young pilgrims

i am leaving early
[tomorrow morning]

traveling

behold the unreached
traveling

acquainted with no one
traveling

i'll not miss you
but when i'm done
i will miss
traveling

my hair is a new length.

my kind of awesome

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Parabolic whimsy

today i was a child.

i was a kid. 

i was young. 

i personified joy, innocence.

tilting, sun light, nah: sun warmth

breeze,

in my hair, 

my face, 

under my arms, through my fingers, 

swirling round

collide

rock playthings

yellow roadline hopscotch

 tightrope success

in my ears

beating, pounding

the wind, the rhythm, the sun, the lyrics.

laughing, beaming.

today i was a child.

basic space

this space is themed

waist adorned with apron strings

she -nonetheless- saunters

this space is themed

Tuscany: chipped paint,

peeking-tom wood grain

china

retina jab of colour

digital standstill

two hour laundry, pre instantgratificationism

this space is themed

Scandinavian: bear hug elegance,

toe curling comfort

blood

legfire delicacy

this space is themed

marrow churning, subconscious alliance

this space is themed

Ocean: acidification

deepsleep rhythms

goose flight equipment

womb light

under the bed there dwells

plainveiw secretwhispers: unfulfilled eroticism

this space is themed:

my 3:00 p.m. Scotch neat

my bottle of Valium

face adorned with laughter

she -nonetheless- falters

this space is open to suggestions

When you talk to Denis on Thursday

please let him know,

For your information,

and Denis's,

you assign a director

and that is it.

if he so desires them to

you will need to tell him this

and

tell him how to do so.

correct permissions.

resources only appear         ...            ...             ...          in the footer link?

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

"Our similarities 

provide us with a common ground, 

but our differences 

allow us to be fascinated by one another."

-endangered beauty-

red rabbits

revert to childhood.

the anticipation is stronger

the taste, acquired

the hunt, innocent

my mind tightly focused

on you

the,

chocolate bringer

the,

waffle maker

the,

camouflager

the,

greetingcard resurrection

within the breath

the organized chaos of this room is forcing me into lines, boxed shapes. the manufactured grain of the wood matches the flyeye speakers.

bands on my fingers, synthetic on my toes, structured, man-made.

the whorls of shadow, cast by my confusion don't fit in the drawers.

there are edges and middles and we make it, we create it, we place it there and expect it to be there upon our return and it is, because we are the makers. we are the water. the icebergs and this room is the ground, the mountains, aching for valleys to mediate the jagged edges, to promote the raw sexuality of the straining molecules. this is the room with the chemical paint finish. with the flat realities and legal identities. this is the room without glass portals, this is the room of our descent.

my memory knows something else. something farther away. where the whorls are lifted, memorized. in that place we impose labels, lines, but they are shaken. they are thin veils, sheer, flirty. useless. for when the dance starts, those veils fall, one-by-one, and we are left naked, exposed to our others. in the place we haven't created, we change nothing and it will always change. in this place birthmarks become continent maps. wineglasses are swimming pools for butterfly nannies, where nailpolish is a figment of the goats imagination. we are in the valleys, the left over sex-scent of carnal beginnings. we are inanimate. we are the intimate. we are there and that is us and without our veils we fly apart, our pieces finding niches. our glistening, is all the light and we are all that we can see, hear, we are the sensation of a lovers tongue, we are the tip of destruction and the definition of breathe.