Thursday, February 15, 2007


peacocks and vines
winding around pictures
of smiles and things
things you try to remember
by placing them
above the memories
that belong to other people
next to the machine
that spits out your thoughts
and your bullshit
blinking red
tells you when you have to
a photo
black and white
she is so beautiful
and you are now older
than she will ever be
next to a machine
that spits out
other people’s thoughts
and bullshit
on top of fake brown lines
dirty fabric
where cords wrap themselves
around your feet
as you spout out
your ideas
into a piece of metal
wondering who will hear
them first.
you suppose this chair
should support you
in your endeavors
reaching for the piece of love
wrapped tight in tin foil
the only thing
that will always love you back
no matter how hard you cry.
unwrapped it looks cold,
calm, and from somewhere
you hear a voice
Tell me a secret
Tell me something
I don’t know
So you do.
and this chair will remain
in your memory

Take 888

underneath skies
of prayers and wishes
dreams and thoughts
ideas of communication
never fully being
among the green blades
and eyes shut so tight
they see so far in
they can’t see
the real and the reel
you wonder what color
these eyes are
underneath an ocean
of voices and cries
pleas and demands
thoughts of comprehension
that never really wanted
to be understood