Poetry

I stick a match stabbed the middle of my eye Squinting… and wincing… and winking… I strike it and watch it burn down… to the licking… lapping… wick… of my self It sputters and splinters and sizzles out And without evidence continues something more

If paint were left to dry… If imagination only a lie… If the whole world was to bleed from its seams… …the director left behind the scenes… Alas… Viva la resistance… …it dreams… …the beginnings… …and ends… …of things…

I sat THERE and watched from behind a screen the variety of which which could be scene A movie reality… …a stolen dream He was THERE as far as… I could see with full knowledge of every surrounding monstrosity I COULD SEE He knew, though there shone no eyes And I his knowledge as the […]

We is propped We IS Propped Up on Stick and Staple and Pedestal Stop We is up We IS Up Over on Propped, Stick and Several Mop Stuck Out of Sight Out of Mind Just… …Out… …of… …Sight… Girls and Boys Dressed in their appearance Cradles flickering in their grave