Outside

We found God in the garden where we'd left Him, sitting in a pleasant day.

"Pretty much perfect out here," He remarked, gesturing divinely. "Wish you'd come join Me."

"We know," we said, irritable and itchy, heading back inside to watch our shows.

August 2015

View From the Cabinet

possess me
like a comb:
disposable, with
faint disgust--yet
useful, say, even valuable
when times insist. then,
to be honest, shelved
i become clutter.

(let it go!
i insist
like bad art upon
myself, my rights, or
whatever it is i ruffle
up about. such thoughts
contend with value;
not quite dishonest,
but: can silence lie?)

so cage me
like so much
dried organic slough--
water me at night
when the moon insists upon you,
then sponge-wring me out
when the day prevails.
i don't really care.

own me! crunch
my bones in
your sharp-toothed jaws, lick
your sneering lips. but
listen closely: bring your head near:
you cannot stop me
from having insane,
unreasonable,
unspeakable joy.

there is no
reason here.
or there are: cliche
decisions made as
a child. you wouldn't understand.
when the devil comes
to collect his due,
at least i can say:

i tried, and
i smiled, and
i was just your comb.





August 2015
I don't even know what this is about, the words just tumbled out of the keyboard at me.  Actually maybe I do know.  Maybe I'll find out.

The Dinner Cruise

Maybe times past, I wouldn't mind,

But I've seen films since then--

Whole two-hour, feature films--

Where every frame was a giant,

HD testament: you could

Count hairs, or tell

If the actress wore contacts.

I mean, it was awkward.

So then why are you,

With your one (1!) printed frame:

A one-frame film, tangibly displayed

For Metro riders, we cogs of commerce--

Why is your resolution so dim?

The image itself, of course, inspires.

Broad, inviting logo; a woman 

On the deck of a river-bound dinner barge;

It is evening in the flowing valley

Between two Mediterranean hills.

Tables are set with candles

And fine china: you can almost

Smell the roast lamb and wine.

All this as I'm looking for the exit;

National Archives, 7th and Indiana 

Sort of. It's for a meeting. I'm not

A regular. And this image--this

Tawdry advertisement, this pixelated homage,

This promise of escape--I found caged

In smeared definition, the embodiment

Of mortality.

August 2015

In town for a meeting; 2 hours early. Sitting at a Starbucks murdering time.

For

for the love,
forward:
forlorn foreground
forgotten for years--
a forbidden forehead kiss;
fortunately,
forever forgives
our forsaken forms.
forge forth new
forceful, fortressed
memories:
now-foreign forebears
long foregone.




August 2015
just kidding around, bored by creative lapse.  "i get my creative juices by watching people," i told Andrew yesterday, sitting on the porch feeding the bugs our flesh.  "so i wouldn't mind riding the Metro to work."