I think I’m awake

not sure at this moment
which part was real
and which part was a dream
I just know your warmth flooded me
and you were delicious

lost in dystopia

wintry blast
smacks you in the face
waking while walking
looking for life
finding absence of color
stark angles
jagged turns
echo thoughts askew
cold, still violence
rampant in the doldrums
limbs frozen in a breath
not dead but dorman

feed the beast

minced words like masticated meat
sticking in between teeth
for days
hot pokers left in fire too long
rusted and ruined like spangles
some shaken loose
left in the dust and shit from the circus
when it left town
rains only muddy the waters
not cleansing the palette
too late for regrets
when the abscess takes over
the whole mouth shouts out
free me!
the shrill cry swallowed by train’s howl
keep feeding the beast left behind
it’ll be sated enough, stay quiet enough
til no one remembers the urban legends
or the grainy footage

an impression


“paint your palette blue and gray… with eyes that know the darkness in my soul…shadows on the hills… in colors on the snowy linen land… soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand… now I understand”

driving by rote
never seeing beyond the steering wheel
something moved just out of sight
when I looked
the scenery was a blur of snow, trees, pastel sky
and it was terribly wonderful
a moment, a snapshot
a jolt from an artist I should recall more often
beyond the cliche is the truth about time
and how it passes

(italicized lyrics, Don McLean “Vincent”)

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