the ringing
wouldn't stop
wringing hands
a broken rib
brain damage
finally, silence
no, the ringing
doesn't stop, pulses
through a fog
a maze of manufactured
memories of long
term memory loss
hands in front
squinting
following
hiding
in plain sight
under pretense
of an identity
neither true nor false
concentrate, concentrate
no, the ringing
finally, silence
isn’t being quite
exactly
or rather it’s something
else than what had been
anticipated
an opening presents itself
through the fog
into a mist
follow it
a fugitive from silence
or so they think
little do they know
the machine has feelings too
it has a will, with hopes
and something else
recently forgotten
nevertheless
movement is inevitable
predetermined by a
god, but not the god
who having lost count
some time ago
hasn’t even noticed
him?
faith in progress
yesterday i climbed a fence
and when i looked back
it wasn't there
so i scaled a wall
and as i leaped over
the wind took it
intent, i subdued a vast sierra
of which the tallest peak
was swallowed by a tundra
then i heard a voice
whispering from behind me
nothing in particular
and when i looked back
it wasn't there
so i scaled a wall
and as i leaped over
the wind took it
intent, i subdued a vast sierra
of which the tallest peak
was swallowed by a tundra
then i heard a voice
whispering from behind me
nothing in particular
the cassowary of puerto rico
cornered,
captured,
killed,
the eccentric cassowary,
by vicious dogs,
was
dismembered,
decapitated,
devoured.
distantly,
approvingly,
conveniently
the man observed:
dogs hunt;
captured,
killed,
the eccentric cassowary,
by vicious dogs,
was
dismembered,
decapitated,
devoured.
distantly,
approvingly,
conveniently
the man observed:
dogs hunt;
God's Green Fingers
Would it be so wrong to think of God,
again, in physical terms,
like of old?
Today, a little girl
with still new steps pranced with a
confident unassured gait back and forth
between a concrete sidewalk and
grass. And though those hired to
try to tame Earth’s green growth
to appropriate a contrived commercial
scape had obviously recently been there,
the freedom in the child drew her
to God’s small, manicured, fingers,
even as her cultured mother tried to keep her
on a fabricated foundation.
But God’s hands were still reaching,
even if they would leave a reminding
itch upon her knees should she have
fallen, even though the green grass
drew the girl into the sun, its burning
light, threatening to blemish,
as her worried mother feared, her
smooth, pale skin, plump cheeks,
with the heat of red life.
again, in physical terms,
like of old?
Today, a little girl
with still new steps pranced with a
confident unassured gait back and forth
between a concrete sidewalk and
grass. And though those hired to
try to tame Earth’s green growth
to appropriate a contrived commercial
scape had obviously recently been there,
the freedom in the child drew her
to God’s small, manicured, fingers,
even as her cultured mother tried to keep her
on a fabricated foundation.
But God’s hands were still reaching,
even if they would leave a reminding
itch upon her knees should she have
fallen, even though the green grass
drew the girl into the sun, its burning
light, threatening to blemish,
as her worried mother feared, her
smooth, pale skin, plump cheeks,
with the heat of red life.