sketch

night antigone


It's hardly a very visual crime
It hides itself under your t-shirts in the corner
It might be encountered, much like depressions
The undercoating, slip and pull self
That you unplug behind the counter
Find it buzzing
In the morning

A small red reminder
A welt, a wick
What have you, when
You wear where you've been
Underneath the cloth of a concern
That other layer, the one that records

Each unadultered mark,
The smooth white paper dent
Of every idea you've ever crushed
They all kneel before your crooked skull
Each tarot, lines of endless
Keepsake moments that you shelter inside lights
The honest immaculate, tethered to the air you drag

And I will keep each one hidden, each one new.
Every tattered remnant that reminds me of you.



::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

And I thought that the kitchen was empty, that the phone was off the hook, that no one

Would cook dinner

Anymore

And I thought you were gone

I had a dream that you died

And my life had never been so empty
There was no one to talk to
And you work so hard you work yourself to death and back
And I'd rather have you than a new cabinet or a lamp
Forget about the living room
Just keep living

And then I dreamed that you killed an alligator
And a man was stealing eyes
The alligator was flimsy
You wanted dinner
He stuck his two fingers in the sockets
My eyes are bleary and my skin runs deep.

I clearly feel
Pseudo-somber
And unsure
Coffee buzz / cigarette
Almost filling in the blanks

As you drag your childhood beside you
That tattered bundle of smiles
As others appear
Standing in corners,
seeming as if they were never born.




As it is,

The world seems to be

Compiled of slow hands
Moving motions in a morning
In distinct light, one with
A closed grasp, the edges sewn
A silhouette
The planes each grown with light
as each side unfolds

A gait eternal
A swagger compressed
A room you always walk out of
A liquid hip upon an assemblage of equipment
Each instrument, a fine gleam

A circumference that caves at it's center
It is not a vat
It is an angle.
It is not an answer
But rather, the meaning of its core..

We've run out of all the right words
To salvage this sordid lot
To convey the couple
Breaking up on the night train
This public display of
Devastation
From the moment we enter crimes
To the exit signs in our eyes
When the trees are a transition
With their sprawling shorn skin
Some say "a subtle reminder"
Maybe they've just grown tired

I feel like a splattered scroll of celluloid

A grainy screen of smudges grey

The wafting in between, the smoke in the rafters
The blistering figure that dances so slowly

A montage, a decoy, an ode to dismay
A pattern of fuzz, an intermission
A wry slide of a matinee

Think about every other evergone family
Their attics, their closets, the times they cleaned their rugs
The papers in plastic, family albums, heirlooms, attics
A silence, a sequence, a slowly torn down heritage
A spool, uncoiled.
The clothes that they keep wrapped up in sheets
So many lives that are gone mean nothing to me
Squander




Description of Dream 249

We live in segments

Solitary individual units
The center of a centipede

Each fully groomed, accomedated with the finest necessitites
Water grown tea and small sprial formed larvae

(there is a singe, the one that splices, the one that connects)

and each hostile, environment, eco-friendly
by sedentary actions, small, minute movemnts of the palmstroking sections,

the intermingling
there is a special section

the one (you) always dwell through

splicing of the edges of carrots
knitting your tupperware and selling children for another generation

we all like to catch a break now and then
with your fully customized lawn, rotar tractor

secure environments

we contain skys, oh, we capture them of course
on full display a small, tiny section of time reduced
capture this, for a smoke, for a walk in the park well, what else would you do anyway?
We rotate, move from here to there, mingle, hold hands, smash secrets
The everloving testament to the night, so bloody
I don't care about your time anymore

We're already old anyway
Where else would you expect us to go
We study animals
We reduce vitamins

I have many pereogatives

And none of them have anything
Anything to do
Anything to say
About You or who you could or would have might have been