Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Dearest, honorable, King ocean of frothy crown. (Or are those three tiers of teeth, homey?) We must be friends sir, please, it's of utmost importance, I mean, how can we not be, we've played together, danced together, in the dreamy moonlight. I understand your ragings, your impatience with all thing...

Let her be, don't waken her, let her sleep. Stop looking at her, like she was something, good to eat. See what else about her, you can guess, there is to see. Maybe something sad, forlorn, haunts her dreams. She's given in, to something that isn't, what she wants it to be. Something about the folly,...

Tiger tiger, burning with forgiveness, resiliant resignation, give thanks, there will be food. Tiger tiger, All meat must be cooked well done, yes I know, I miss the raw stuff too. Tiger tiger pacing in the cage has waned off a bit, so what. I speak for all of you locked up too. Tiger tiger, No adju...

I was not
aware of
me there,
until now,
far from it,
longing for it,
staring at it,
spinning out on it,
for days and days
in fast forwards,
to the end
of it,
only to go further,
spilling backwards,
unwounding,
to the original
wide open joyous spaces,
of beginning.

Frozen sun relic,
pig snout surprize,
drunkard's eye
first opening
on morning light.

Snowstorm exclamation,
shaded in
tropical bird staredown.
Humanity is cloaked,
in pasty brittle trappings.

High row
glee fix.
Shooting star
souls
visible only,
via
x-ray eyes.
Dreamspines
revealed,
in shocking caricature,
clear as bells,
naked impulses,
shooting like heroin,
straight from the
heart.

Look closely.
I'm in here.
A memory,
haunting ivy walls.

That pile of rocks,
a path unmade.
Left behind long ago,
in trade, for you.

Light at the end,
used to be bigger,
brighter,
dazzlinger.

Dishwater dark now.
Winsome. Losesome.
Sparkling gray,
like my hair.