Wednesday, November 16, 2005

...not kansas...

buckle down the phantoms
as the pillars around you fall
while waves of burn encroach
like a rising of the flesh's tide
along a beaten shore of left over
tremor marked
filled with

working parts spare like hospital dust
keep afloat
the way others find laugh
in hardscrabble hands
or empty save hope
as one wrings the next
past defeat
and through chase like cut

fog is fog and the undertow leads despite the blind
and though i do not see the wreckage
before me
i can feel your embrace

welcome home

arf 05

Monday, November 07, 2005


recover the notes
along the seams split akin to hollow calls at midnight amongst not so friends
and piece together an old masterpiece
of trepidation
like hard candy tears the mouth
she cries and one cannot become the needed
any more than one can become the had
when pushed
when paled like witness lied
when under the behemoth of gossamer just
like soul
loses the call and finds the flats minor when full

her hands press heavy
with hurt
and crass edges breaded in sounds
light to the touch
and harsh to the flesh
the heaved
and murderous
and unfinished
and wet with wounds so foul
as to make jugdement
easy attained in operation modal

loss is not much more than period passed by with a dash of hope
and gain is nothing languishing in fear

gather and keep
borne out of need
there cannot yearn as hard as push deep by conundrum found
inside the whole
of one
without edges defined

maze this is not

turns i see
dive into choice laid forth
force corrections said north
two other
if need
were ever if speed
finds dull

that's when you and i
make haste
like eagle
scared of waste
of the image
has made

shot shot
shot shot

and kill
and kill

grabbed and filled

with doesn't the hill

make free


Sunday, November 06, 2005


dusted i come to this
wiped out from the heat and the long strides i have not made
alarm clock and try to smash
come again i wanted to tell you
come again

withered the hands and special the chance to touch
slumped over the couch like pulverized
you can’t be held like this
for too long
it burns
and snatches breath
and snatches breath

my ache culls me into a sleep
where i dream not of you but of how to
put you down
or not

there is not enough blood on the hands of this world

tee hee

reeks the scent of the part where i wake up
and i don’t know you
and i realize
that despite
i failed
and that
i always fail


Friday, November 04, 2005


porous heart
reached to longings end
spreads itself like hot iron press
along its own drawn out trail

each mark leading to the next
each harder and deeper than the last
each not of the other
despite a pattern
despite a direction known

if one
just once
had spelled the fortune that the step by step tide and its no ebb had wrought
how then would it be found

so tossed
so misplaced

do not be alarmed as the shade crawls in
that's just wait
folding in on the weight of the two of us
not standing here

the only monster in these parts
is the line
not crooked
not broken
neither whole nor arrow

filled with that which angers hunger
stretching out
feeding its leaks