Sunday Dec 08, 2002

0
pa's pa's compass has failed me well
i'd kiss it & bury it in that magnetic sun
it's all yr fault!
we met the end together
close behind grew thorns in my spleen
of it now breeds a disco of doubts
nothing sore as a dream catcher to these
all there is to believe casts fantastic images
the struggle is so full of comforting
darkness closed my i's
& a flame in yr ouchie rises to rip yr fuckin' teeth out
just how they said it would b
the loveless coward pays you to cut his loveless coward grass
you show up on time
i can't believe my i's
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
binkymcqueen:
You asked about the vinyl--where should I begin? It is so true about the grass.....
toiletooth:
i can't believe in gnomes, as of today. i recall winding tree trunk, the smell of pine needles in the small red. string-strung pouch they gave me. it makes me sad to have to do this, but all i ever saw was the mockeries of them, littering lawns everywhere, amalgamations of the truth so watered down, they're now in the category of christmas lights, and bent over grandma booties gardening. i want to believe in them, i looked for them everywhere. i knew they were nothing like david. to wear a red dunce cap and ride upon the backs of fox would lead to recognition, no doubt. why to wear the costume? knowing if they exist, they definately use the term fo-gnome. not gnome. no gnome. no gnome ever thought it necessary to show me with my eyes.
i'm getting older. and i can't blame it on david.
it's those fucking lawns.
them i blame.

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