WE be the Big Dogs.
butt it’s cold.
Dark as the devil’s den.
Pulling away the light.
Away from the capture
M E D I U M.
A spiral staircase,
an electric escalator
of tiny electrons
I N T E R F A C E.
A soft brush of light
Your retina rods
like Kansas wheat
storm that drives
you warsch out your dreams.
Wringing out the process of daily how to.
Making a special thing about following
the thread…without the pain.
Nobody ever lived without, just so much ptomaine
from that funky little restaurant.
And worth it it was
like a talk in your head
and she slowly drew a leaf
I saw my sister draw a leaf and I asked her where she learned the sequence. However—beyond all reason—she didn’t believe any part of it was her.
She anticipated dad and mom in the development of her talents. She understood edges, but not flying. She saw teachers. She saw lovers. Sometimes both together.
Yet, somewhere a youthful fulcrum shattered, and plunged the artful balance to the fudge-mud, adobe-stuff, plaster-stiffening, everyday-molasses, slowly-slowing…end.
Reality sometimes wraps around my shoulders when I’m working.
Mostly, though I am able to soak up the fantasy of my
Toss it through the screen of my lies
and make myself Be. . .albeit a little more slowly
than those of my friends, who actually take their cue