Sunday 8/06/2006 12:06:00 AM

The rise of the yellow. Soughing gods. In their broken limousines. Tilting heads back. CPR for the analogy. Gestating the lie. Carrying it in an empty womb. As if to say, I am not stricken by what you accuse me to want. Ever your victim. Never your slave.

The fall of the brown. Porcelain heels. Rubber toes. As the sand compiled its bibliography.

Tasting the eyes as they look. So impaired with vision. As soon as we're not too young we're old enough. To know why it had to lie to us. Pretend the karma was still listening.

Setting places at the table for those who had cheated our hearts. Dull knives buttering bread. In the throes of holes not ours.

The hunger I can live with. Pale dandelions seducing their grass. In lobotomies so tender.

I could spend my life making you prove everything you said. But why cut off the dog's tail when I find so much amusement in watching it chase.

Measuring the darkness. Twice.

Cutting once.

0 comments:


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.