fear breath is short

the earth is here
the earth is here
remember it is here and it caught you

fear breath is short
fierce breath is deep and sharp
the breath that whimpers out
is the breath that tugs the heart

for the empty of faith
the empty of breath
what hope is there

when the soul is cracked
all is cracked

"fill it in," the fear commands
"cracks let out the light"

Three Relaited Thoughts

We are manifesto
you are our potential
we embrace you.

As a child I was led by the nose
by the nose by the nose by the nose
As a child I was led by the nose
and I don't know where I go
where I go where I go where I went

Dear beloved government,
what have you done
with my only son?
put him in a box
and shook him really hard
that's all you've done.
no, you won't let him free
no, you won't let him grow
dear beloved government,
what have you done?

Meditation on a Hot Night

I'm seeing phantom people again. They hover just flashing on my impressionable conscious to the up of grind stone stride down turned gaze, dark with pale pinched faces garbed in voluminous night. Quick sear and gone. If I weren't a poet I wouldn't care. But I am and have passed to the absurdity of describing figments, arrangements, presented by my electro-impulses to my weary conscious.

The gap between function and experience is insurmountable. Sometimes I feel that my body is no more myself than the rubber duck I do not own. They will float happily together disregarding their relation to myself as I ponder their existence and my relation to them. I could do that for hours but at some point the body wants out of the bath.

Most amusingly are the arguments that occur between myself and inanimate objects. How is it they seem to me to have personality? Cantankerous machines reflecting their impassionate creators. The product speaks for the producer. My yarn is slipping out again. This hat is very strange and loud. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. So, I'll give it to my mother. She will welcome all my mutant children as things of wounder.

You know it's funny we have three toilets and everyone gets cranky when one is plugged. We are spoiled. Living in the lap of luxury. In fact, it could be argued that three toilets is excessive. Actually, two is luxury, three is decadent and four is unnecessary. Yet I like my privet toilet. I was perturbed to break into the inner sanctum of other house hold members. Often I find myself most disturbed when someone uses my usual bathroom. I wonder at this emotion. It could be that I worry that things will be abused. Often people use my face cleanser as hand soap.

Now I confess that my battle against clutter is not going so well. This may be why things get misused.

It's summer sticky don't want to do much when one is sticky one sticks and that is uncomfortable. On the other hand sitting on ones ass all day is just as bad. I'm totally unmotivated. I only want to lay in front of the fan. Mmmm....yeah.

0726?09

it's not that you didn't try
no
it's more i didn't listen
and i kept on not listening
then you stopped speaking
i thought nothing
because i wasn't listening anyway

i knew it was empty
there was nothing
yes
then i heard a funny little grumble
deep in my head
there you were
it scared me
what were you doing in my head

every thing fell into place
the throbbing
the suffocation
the death
we hadn't danced together in so long
what was strong no longer functioned
no longer mattered
i could not stand

there was no voice
there was no hand
i was alone

memory

What do you remember?
I remember being a child seeing the hill side filled with flowers
I remember the neighbor dogs humid warm breath descending
I remember oranges and lemons
This I remember
What do you remember?
I remember days of industry building tent palaces
I remember blanket hammocks and the cool breeze smell of eucalyptus
I remember the sea
This I remember
What do you remember?
I remember the fog so thick buildings were shrouded five yards ahead
I remember hot days strung together desert wind chapped lips
I remember my shoes
This I remember
What do you remember?
I remember traveling in a clan, road ill, stale air
I remember the night and swamp songs voices sound scape
I remember winter
This I remember
What do you remember?

052609
The faces were blank at first
the minds and eyes wandered
for the most part they said not a word
I was a bit disheartened.
My captive audience I feel I bore,
a failing in my entertainment,
desperation cast me here directing vain attention
unsuited though I feel.

052709
Me and the frozen peas
are holed up on the couch
they in case my arm
I melt them with my heat
then return them to re freeze
in two hours we will meet
in time we will recover
me and the frozen peas.

052809
Expectant faces inquisitive eyes
I hold the next move
anxious shy let go by the end
I'm flooded with questions
I can't keep up inventions occur
thirst weak voice dust
these shoes are all wrong
this bag anachronism.