Sunday, March 30, 2008
I eat bitter diamonds laced with lime and shot through with vodka too. They look like they have been stolen from the back of a clever snake. They look like the eyes of evil queens. They taste like they should be toxic. They taste like they should cast a spell. Those who know me know I like it this way.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Lines scribbled on the twentieth of two days later -
It’s only when things go wrong that you notice your body. The rest of the time you are unconscious of your component parts and how they work.
But now my ribcage feels like a cage. A rusty one. With bars that brown and flake and threaten to crack. That bend and bow and moan as I lean against them trying to escape my monster cellmate.
And my lungs feel like dry bellows. Riddled with holes and drying glue and useless. A collapsed accordion in the hands of a tone deaf musician. I whistle the introduction and he wheezes his way through a lament to lost days.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Saturday, March 08, 2008
quiet morning -
in the flowerbeds
Fur that looked like feathers or feathers that looked like fur. White among the green. Macabre blooms on a thursday. White among the grey. A bad start to the day. Remains of skin and absence of life. All shape and sense stripped clean away.
white fur scattered
in the sun
Blinding white collected and consigned to black plastic burial. Bloodless. Nameless. Movement reduced to prey.