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”)
with abandon
so much more rattling around
wanting to find a way out
it seems like magic swirling around
sometimes consuming
more than I intended
glimpses escaped over the years
stories to tell
but not until recently
did I give myself leave to speak
now I can’t shut up
veering wildly across platforms
no compass
feeling very gonzo writing with no edits
letting the freak flag unfurl
wondering where I’m headed
today, this moment, I’m questioning why
that’s not a good sign
usually I stop dancing with abandon
and abandon the dance to think
and I’m not tired yet
I want to let go
please fool me
don’t wanna know the science
behind fire breathing
don’t need to know how card tricks work
wanna take levitation and disappearing acts at face value
wanna gasp at the sword swallower
don’t tell me about genetics
wanna believe I’m unique
don’t teach me mathematics
wanna find patterns in nature alone
don’t wanna stop believing in fairies
don’t need to told about hell
wanna see angels in my garden
wanna be fooled please again and again
The Word Rummager 