billyfivecrows

Scene 1: A deaf man shouts into a cave, longing for an echo.

No other scene. Barely an act.

(On the other side of never, butterflies
Rudely compete with gods. Arcs gauge

Where the mirror repays its favors.

Save yourself a circuit, and close your eyes.

Ears glow, embarassed so

At least there's blood

And the pressure

Of rushing...)

***

I should be in bed, I have to get up early. But the caffeine and cigarettes just wont let me. And besides, I've reading I want to do. The Paul Bowles book is riviting. Wonderful writing. You get a true sense of what India was like in the 1950's, as well as a true sense of its timelessness.

I'd love to go and see that part of the world. But being an American on the road these days is a bad idea. Maybe some day.

ah well...


goodnight lovely ones

r.


a sharkstooth for cupid

What you're dead for: the humanity.

A gaze is like a gesture with suspended edge.
'Homesick' is outroar calmly in wave.

A soft jaw procedes the sadness.
A softer song beneath the sea.

Stretch a breeze over eyelid, dive deep.
A sharp bouquet orbits the stem of arrow.

Hearts will walk on water

Love can hardly stand it...