![[…the space between infinities…]](https://notalentforcertainty.files.wordpress.com/2017/08/dreamstime_xl_53268295.jpg?w=1200)
the masters of the universe the mistresses of pain the fortunes of the other folks their houses down the lane a passion for veracity a cavalcade of fun a phone call in the dead of night to be the only one an afternoon of pleasure spent an instant on the way an overarching sadness that engulfs the everyday a word or two that hides its face the comfort we don't give the space between infinities where we choose not-to-live the music of the hidden heart that keeps in how it feels the whitewash on the sepulcher the tomb of our ideals the aftershock the ambulance the cold and bloody dawn the moment after of all of it the tv goes back on
Tag: Alinear Dissonance
fourteen times
the story and the metastory
always, it’s about her
and about her knowing it’s about her
so much kindness in her voice, arrogance
only specious in intentional
vacating of previously occupied
territory ceded to the opposition
transactional analysis, used
to good effect upon mountains of
regret and underneath umbrellas of
translucent rainbows
young life scrounged
fourteen times by hotel maids
who once served hot dogs to
shy cabinetmakers and window-washers
lies, luscious lies –
with the occasional truth
thrown in for flavor
intersection of parabolic interests where
cold indifference serves as a
reliable guide
plain plastic platitudes sent
seventy-six ways into
walls of wanton
sensuality
To share is human:
at the margin bleak
a white powder day, the buzzards swarming in
circles above an inadequate dissonance
finding winter across bleak margin, and
a cross above frightened bushes huddled for warmth
it is a winter’s choice that must be made in every season:
to carry on, or be
carrion
To share is human:
simulacrum, memory
driven through the broken glass broken by the driving wind ghosts are standing by the lake broken by the driving wind simulacrum, memory memories of what's to come ghosts that shiver by the lake memories of what's to come shielded purpose, veiled intent cold as death, and colder still ghosts of time in times of ghosts cold as death, and colder still broken by the driving wind frozen lake's inconstancy ghosts that claim me for their own simulacrum memory
To share is human:
Rhapsodies of Violet
skies exploding in
rhapsodies of violet
and gold confetti
while the mountains gird themselves
for sentry duties to come
To share is human:
sgraffito
retrahent dreaming as the subconscious indulges in its sgraffito a vectitory wondering covering up the pandemian amid dysbulia
To share is human:
in soul of search mates
belonging.
the sad is search and
difficult with all of its
dramatics to turn oneself into a
prize it’s moral
acrobatics we love because
we love to love to need to feel
inside but all that ever was
and is is made of clove and
pride we string along our
platitudes we soon evince our
longing but souls are made of fragile
stuff and yearning for
