Monday, March 17, 2014

My Central Facility, and Our Sex

Posted under bedrock
that blackly gleaming mass
organic and fragile
tucked between bone slivers
singing tightened nerves
helium of a balloon floating
I wish to tell you in whispers
next time please go slowly

Sunday, March 16, 2014

At Things For Which We Have No Name

I excel; the blindspace of mind wherein
we write our papers, have conversations -
that particular knack for no brainstream
of thought before the words tumble out;

the peculiar nature of driving forever past
an intended destination, the loving glance
at a painting while thinking of the past -
a feeling of magnum opus for the well-written

words on a page to exemplify a growth;
herein after we are never the same - I
am the writer of such things, if only within
my own mind: I do embody the wordless.