black was the without eye
black the within tongue
black was the heart
black the liver, black the lungs
unable to suck in light
black the blood in its loud tunnel
black the bowels packed in furnace
black too the muscles
striving to pull out into the light
black the nerves, black the brain
with its tombed visions
black also the soul, the huge stammer
of the cry that, welling, could not
pronounce its sun.
II
black is the wet otter's head, lifted.
black is the rock, plunging in foam
black is the gall lying on the bed of the blood.
black is the earth-globe, one inch under,
an egg of blackness
where sun and moon alternate their weathers
to hatch a crow, a black rainbow
bent in emptiness
over emptiness
but flying
-ted hughes
humor me:
i am wondering what has happened these past weeks. where my little soul is. i remember as a child standing on the jetties when a hurricane was approaching. before the ocean started to churn, and the wind gust unbearably, the earth would tremble. you could feel the atmospheric pressure drop, and smell the ozone. . .thick and metallic. i smell that now.
ha cha cha
pink nipples. brown nipples. i am utterly (wow what a missed opportunity for a bad pun) fascinated by them. sean told me that when they had the baby he was flabbergasted at how something he once thought of as being so incredibly erotic became. . .well. . .disgustingly utilitarian. theyre little fucking milk pumps, hed say with a cringe. oddly enough his mother-in-law hadnt known me for 5 minutes before she started singing the praises of her own boobs. i suppose one should try to play to their strengths. remember that scene in the graduate? it was like, only in public.
yesterday
was recovery from an 80 work week. from 24 hours with no food. the bike came down for the first time this year. oh how ive missed her. alex and i walked across the williamsburg bridge and ran into kara and her cousin the british-chef-that-lives-in-the- south-of-france-so-doesnt-know-too-much-about-london-these-days-you-see. when we got to corner bistro and began eating, alex almost cried. it wasnt over the burgers, although they were just that good. i worry about him sometimes.
prayers
ricky is in day two of de-tox. theyve put him under an induced coma to let his body dry out. to let his body stop bleeding from the inside. we used to think jack daniels for breakfast was cool; now i wonder what well think. i wonder what hell remember. thegoldmineshithouse boys were all drunk last night when we showed up, especially big t. we are all robbing peter to pay paul aren't we?
oh, and the cardinals have vowed silence.
black the within tongue
black was the heart
black the liver, black the lungs
unable to suck in light
black the blood in its loud tunnel
black the bowels packed in furnace
black too the muscles
striving to pull out into the light
black the nerves, black the brain
with its tombed visions
black also the soul, the huge stammer
of the cry that, welling, could not
pronounce its sun.
II
black is the wet otter's head, lifted.
black is the rock, plunging in foam
black is the gall lying on the bed of the blood.
black is the earth-globe, one inch under,
an egg of blackness
where sun and moon alternate their weathers
to hatch a crow, a black rainbow
bent in emptiness
over emptiness
but flying
-ted hughes
humor me:
i am wondering what has happened these past weeks. where my little soul is. i remember as a child standing on the jetties when a hurricane was approaching. before the ocean started to churn, and the wind gust unbearably, the earth would tremble. you could feel the atmospheric pressure drop, and smell the ozone. . .thick and metallic. i smell that now.
ha cha cha
pink nipples. brown nipples. i am utterly (wow what a missed opportunity for a bad pun) fascinated by them. sean told me that when they had the baby he was flabbergasted at how something he once thought of as being so incredibly erotic became. . .well. . .disgustingly utilitarian. theyre little fucking milk pumps, hed say with a cringe. oddly enough his mother-in-law hadnt known me for 5 minutes before she started singing the praises of her own boobs. i suppose one should try to play to their strengths. remember that scene in the graduate? it was like, only in public.
yesterday
was recovery from an 80 work week. from 24 hours with no food. the bike came down for the first time this year. oh how ive missed her. alex and i walked across the williamsburg bridge and ran into kara and her cousin the british-chef-that-lives-in-the- south-of-france-so-doesnt-know-too-much-about-london-these-days-you-see. when we got to corner bistro and began eating, alex almost cried. it wasnt over the burgers, although they were just that good. i worry about him sometimes.
prayers
ricky is in day two of de-tox. theyve put him under an induced coma to let his body dry out. to let his body stop bleeding from the inside. we used to think jack daniels for breakfast was cool; now i wonder what well think. i wonder what hell remember. thegoldmineshithouse boys were all drunk last night when we showed up, especially big t. we are all robbing peter to pay paul aren't we?
oh, and the cardinals have vowed silence.
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
i ♥ art stuff.
(workfase)
It has a nice rhythem
And I like the way it flips...
Reminds me of some of my friends in high school....
Self destructive and loving it, but living in it all so they can turn a blind eye...