billyfivecrows

Myth in mercury, how to disturb me:

Ribs like a tree on fire,
Impotent snow
Peaches in a stench
Boredom of voices

Hatless when the sun declines:
"Kindly, sir, no pain."

You ask

Is this random?

Enough, I guess

To offer milk, white lace boiled in the blood

Of a ghost. I do not know, but I do remember

Hunger is verse to vessel. Something

Nestled in the shadow of a shelf. Reach higher.

(Chair is broken, sob. Leg is small, now rob

The ladder, pay the rung. Now slip. Now skirt.

Now pants

Like a dog

Chants like a god

Several

Words fall short

I do

How odd...)





***

Unrelated to poem:

So I went home today to finally tackle the flood damage from a month or so ago (I have two homes! A joyous life in abundance!)

I scrubbed and scrubbed and STILL have much more to do.

I have a basement bedroom that was once two rooms, wall removed. No windows. If it rains for more than a couple of days straight...whoosh...water. Anyway, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Everything was coated in a moist dust, and on the walls behind some of the furniture I found a greenish-white powder growing, yuk! My painting studio is down there as well, and flows over (heh!) into the bedroom. No major damage. Large canvases on the wall were a bit powdery mildewed, but it wiped right off. Most of the important stuff was out in the basement proper, where it stayed dry for the most part.

"Medusa Loves Lucifer", "The Cornfield", "Miriam's Cross", "god's birthday", and "Premonition" were all fine. I was worried about the ink and oil paint stick combo on some of them, but all was well. "Premonition" is painted on an old, crusty headboard, so any water damage would have just made it that much better, anyway!

One portfolio was slightly ruined. Old "Gothic Camoflauge" studies, a shame to have damaged, but oh well.

My books were a bit musty, but no biggie.

All my winter clothing was damp to the touch from ambient moisture.

Oh...the antique piano the ex- is storing there had a layer of thin, green slime growing on it. I cleaned it. Played it for a while, and miracle of miracles, it's still in tune. She rags on me to take care of it everytime I hear from her.

If she's that f***ing worried about it, she can come get the damn thing! I'm done with the responsibility.

But it's nice to have it to play while I'm there.

And really....no big hurry.


I'm at home #2 tonight. Cat in lap, enjoying a blissful insomnia.

Reading:

'Wild Animus' -Rich Shapero
'Wilderness' -Jim Morrison
'Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstacy' -Mercea Eliade

and 'The Collected Poems of Frank O'Hara'

No music.

It makes me dizzy and annoyed most days.

I usually only listen to music if I'm interested in playing music.

Not so much these days.

Maybe soon...


Love and light

-me