Tuesday, November 15, 2011

a wisp of dark cloud

you are the colour of ash wednesdays
and the hash hands of your sensitivity
reach out to bristle the air
to fall asleep
and remain soft
so soft

so soft

vibrant life


Sunday, November 13, 2011

low fi : kodachrome: paradise

music to make your belly ache

unicorn hustle

The Black Unicorn

The black unicorn is greedy.
The black unicorn is impatient.
'The black unicorn was mistaken
for a shadow or symbol
and taken
through a cold country
where mist painted mockeries
of my fury.
It is not on her lap where the horn rests
but deep in her moonpit
The black unicorn is restless
the black unicorn is unrelenting
the black unicorn is not

A. Lorde

the butcher's block


I came to the uplands of a rock pinnacle where death hung like a shroud
these shades of stone peninsulad out into the open air like a finger of death
like a mighty phallus set to cut a crescendo in the sky by the thrust of a weird god
and in this state of being that is so close to harmony with nature
that my very skin froze and began to fall from my body to be replaced by the bark
the bark of theocracy!
I was ruled by the spirit of immaculate misperception
and this I knew
nature was the cold heart of morning that burned itself with cigarettes
I had never seen something so self destructive
abusive of its claim to rebirth that it murdered its flesh over and over again
this was the absence of love of life
this was merely life unkind

now I see why that funeral of eyelids called the night was so important
it hid us from the tabard of light that exposed all of this disgusting masochism

I dig my heels into the dirt
I spit an incantation
mangle the roots and burn the forests of imagination
there is no home here but a coffin
one made of straw and fruit
horns of plenty
horns of death

no more shall a mouth go hungry

s. sparling

the silence of the turquoise tiger

in the dark