tea leave etchings

My Photo

I wonder what net I can knit to capture you And what tints I can sift to loose this nasty hue

Monday, November 21, 2005

impossible propositions expelled from great distances...

We could submerge and re-emerge
And drink of each other’s breaths
Like tides that gulp the shore

Take in bubbles, a compressed for consumption
And whirlpool our lungs with glass
Our eyes be blue tide pools, maelstroms

This limb I grasp is
but a ripple
The hair I cup in a conch
These follicles sigh the sea

Maybe when it's chilled, our breaths
will crystallize
And as solid mass, buoyant, will ascend glacial
Oh the ships our words will sink

Ourselves will condensate and the sea become
such osmosis
We'll rain within each other
Live life feasting on our ebbs thick

I will bath with your salient skin and you will bath in me
Until that bathtub voice wakes our lungs
And we drown and evaporate

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

An explanation for someone

The iris is that corridor,
Dipped gently in the well,
Worn down trodden floor
I trod the floor of the corridor

And perhaps the corridor locus
Is no place to reside,
Beside glass where my iris
My corridor, enter the focus

And in this fortnight is a party
And in this party are lots of people
And the people speak things
And the things mean things
And flakes of the lexicon sully the corridor

And perhaps I walk in shoes empty
What of cavity
Or perhaps in cognitive entropy...
No, the shoes are just empty

So page through the surmise
Hmm, yes that is this
Notions already colonized
For such reason? I can not recognize

And my recognition is faulty
And my faulty is poison
And the poison, from my face, gush
And the gush, to your face, flood
And I lap it up with my tongue

Perhaps the box that drops
From in between my teeth
Is just a hostile prop
There it is, kur-plop

Perhaps the sight that oozes
From my iris ridge
Under your bridge peruses
Your bisect it uses

And the cacophony I oscillate is mercury
And the touch my fingers radiate is mercury
And the ground my heart quakes is mercury
And the corridor trod is eternally
And that which spills from your eyes, is mercury

Thursday, November 10, 2005

looking down while walking

The squares on the floor
lead me to the door
with you on the other side
And lord knows I could never know
what you are doing

I knock on the door and the sound
in a fashion quite similar to several
paranthesis all facing the same direction
travails through your room and
sojourns in your ears
and registers.

And in the same parentical fashion you
reply from out of your mouth and
the audio archs of my ensuing knocks
collide, waltz and gavotte with your suggestion
albeit it's odd to think about but

The squares on the floor
lead me to the door
with you on the other side
And lord knows I could never know
what you are doing

appoach to an ongoing problem of askew

Little Ronnie says
Lying makes jesus cry
well I'm gonna make jesus cry
I'm gonna tell lie

I'm fine with us
okay okay
I'll take my mouth corners
paste them arched properly
okay okay

eyebrow, wave, cough on lip
played for fine blatant tips
that I'm just fine with this
okie dokie
I could never want it to change

You tend to look into my eyes
You tend to stew the deciet, despize
You with your left hand antagonize
I cough, smile, laugh to the side
I could never want it to change

Everyone has want for straight veracity
honesty and undiing complacency
And to turn the ring oligarchy
on the finger, such intricacy

I'm fine with you and me
okay it's great
who wouldn't be glad
joyous, elate

turbid words like falling yatchs
inpregnate the miniscus smote
perculate this business not
honesty and complacency
I'm fine with you and me