tea leave etchings

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

Monday, December 12, 2005

it's harbored

I see her in him
His strand daisy bowler corkscrews into her fine chords
His marbled eyes grow moss as from erstwhile they trod
I see her in him

I see her in him
From some vantage he grasped my interest as if to be beacon
From other vantages he fractures into light cracks and molds her silhouette
I see her in him

I do not want to touch him, but touch him to in turn touch her
I do not want to be with him, but am with him to in turn be with her
I do not want to kiss him, but kiss him to in turn kiss her
I do not want to love him, but I love her

I see her in him
Like one might see the taiga in a stack of novels
Like one might see contemplations in an eyeball
I see her in him

I see her in him
To the point where my innards kink twice round his words
To the point where I faint up the sea's surface
It's that I see her in him

It's that I see her in him that it quells me so

Can't I set her free
Can't I let these tendrils slip through his ribs
Can't I touch her face

Can't I set her free
Can't I clutch his pelvis firm in my tresses
Can't I pretend it's her

Can't I be set free
These wicked tentacles that envelop my lungs
These wicked words that envelope my tongue
Shan't I be set free

Can't I let these tendrils slip through his ribs
Slide down his navel
Past his lungs
Can't I snap, don't I have a right to snap

I see her in him
In all his slops she descends past the sea level
In all his clouds she is the heavy fog of the sea
I see her in him

She'll never be let free
I'll never be let free
These vile coils will strangle me alone
I won't let myself free

For him

For her

Sunday, December 04, 2005

It's sometimes confusing what is to be done next

It's theorized
that the respective platforms we fall back on,
that card where our eyes won't meet, where our tongues won't lap
is in fact the same
the same twilighted footsteps we tread
the same cavern our eyes descend to
in mute we are but ridge to ridge

And yet
that landscape we return to,
the mountain ranged where our ears twitch to,
where our teeth tap of, is in fact
wedged by atmospheres
oppisite sides of the everything

why can't i speak to You on that landing
why can't we speak together of that landing
why do You drop like a cliff from the death
why does my hand, when You fall, stay
i push Your breath out of my lungs

And furthermore
you, your scent it gives me craziness
and you, your manner it gives me craziness
and you, you remind me so much of her I want to vomit
and she reminds me so much of loss
And furthermore, You...

Friday, December 02, 2005

the pupil doth emit a gravitation that tugs the clock strings

don't you wanna take two watches
in your hand and
see how far the gears can
hurl your knuckles
perhaps each succinct tick could
topple nine years
or more in the heart beat that
twitches the blink
than the heightened breeze of a gasp that follows a wink

don't you wanna count the roman face
that fences the circumference
and circumcalculates, a thin line ungulates,
each footstep down
the hall strikes the walls thrice fold
and the diameter drips from the face
in a classic puddle
upon the bootstraps of a fine lad with a staff

don't you wanna hand shake the wristwatch
like a colander calendar
drain out ninety minutes and relish it
on fine china and sliver
and seep the seconds to make the divinest liquor
and restore the adore
that you've lost in the day
to graze the haze is to stew
two fine sheets in your hand
and at the simplest demand misunderstand
the action, the sheets are just your bootstraps
you pull up during hard times

and the wristwatch is just
a bottle cap refracted off pressured preserves

and the shoddy face is just
the reflected radiate of sixty-eight orbs on a radius

and the watch is just
in between your fingers like dust between the
pages in cages on
my shelf my darling my shelf is
but a landing
and the clock, my darling
is but by my eye with the second iris going
round and round and round
around you

from the crisp airway betwixt two tall buildings

I always contrived that
My mind fought in a different stairwell
Then the general surroundings
And though we may pound a race
To the office cei9ling to bust
Through that pupil door, it is still
A scream across the alley way

But to let the suits dance
To let them spin their neckties down by their waists
Is to soak my sandaled feet in brew coffee
To let the coffee brew
Dance suits, dance

I've temporarily surmised that
The things that sport their existence
Like fine tweed suit jackets
Around my eyeballs and touch pads
That these light wave briefcases
Are of a different class of office supplies
Than stapled to the comprehension of everyone

And let the suits dance
Let them shackle their wristwatches here and there
And let my rooted feet soak up the brew
And drink, the tuber femur through
Dance suits, dance

Perhaps during fifteen minutes of break
You can lap me up, gulp me down
My eyes are dark like coffee
Perhaps I drink too much coffee
Over me you can bark your talk
And drip your saliva down your neck
I could never think to drink your spit

So just let the suits dance
Let them rejoice in cuffs and collars disarray
I'll just let myself brew
My contemplations being just percolations
But oh look at those suits dance