Sometimes it's like a song.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
viking:
good gosh your poems are amazing.
kay:
You do speak the truth.
The blog, such as it is, will continue to post on its home page at http://bloodghostratio.blogspot.com/ -- as for this site: meh.
context
They could try to find me, if they had a reason. They could try to find me, if they had the nerve. Look all they want, it wouldn't matter. Look right at me, I'll still be gone. The trick is to stand on the seams of your shadow. The trick is to leave nothing they would want behind.
I am always out of sorts....
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They could try to find me, if they had a reason. They could try to find me, if they had the nerve. Look all they want, it wouldn't matter. Look right at me, I'll still be gone. The trick is to stand on the seams of your shadow. The trick is to leave nothing they would want behind.
I am always out of sorts....
Read More
ambition
The day breaks hot and thoughtful, you wake with the birds and the dog. You begin again because all the dreams have left you. You begin again because any other plan is lost. The dull footwork of repetition. The plodding march of every single day. The heat will not relent, the day already sacrificed to the flies and the dust. A breeze slips by,...
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The day breaks hot and thoughtful, you wake with the birds and the dog. You begin again because all the dreams have left you. You begin again because any other plan is lost. The dull footwork of repetition. The plodding march of every single day. The heat will not relent, the day already sacrificed to the flies and the dust. A breeze slips by,...
Read More
the incidentals
The night pretends to fall and I pretend to notice. It is enough of a plan for the incedentals. It is enough of a map for holding still. The light as its leaving, the heat as it lingers yet. I write one thing and then another. It seems a listing with each veer and lean. It seems like sayings once you settle on...
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The night pretends to fall and I pretend to notice. It is enough of a plan for the incedentals. It is enough of a map for holding still. The light as its leaving, the heat as it lingers yet. I write one thing and then another. It seems a listing with each veer and lean. It seems like sayings once you settle on...
Read More
aura
There is ruin stamped into the day. Even my thoughts draw flies. The hot coffee sits, cooling in the cup. Each notion sprawls like morning shadows, light and long and losing all the time. The drift away from meaning as the words all take their moods. A bumble bee buffets the wall beside my head. Language another color in the spectrum. The geometry of...
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There is ruin stamped into the day. Even my thoughts draw flies. The hot coffee sits, cooling in the cup. Each notion sprawls like morning shadows, light and long and losing all the time. The drift away from meaning as the words all take their moods. A bumble bee buffets the wall beside my head. Language another color in the spectrum. The geometry of...
Read More
the king of no tomorrow
The clamor of strange weather wore down the day, the words spilled as free as contempt. The bright blue crown did little more than blind, while the gusts of thick dust choked and spun. Some sign post missed, some marker spared the terror of acknowledgement, while eyes strayed from the road, running wild over every scale and skin. Somewhere a...
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The clamor of strange weather wore down the day, the words spilled as free as contempt. The bright blue crown did little more than blind, while the gusts of thick dust choked and spun. Some sign post missed, some marker spared the terror of acknowledgement, while eyes strayed from the road, running wild over every scale and skin. Somewhere a...
Read More
unilateral
I serve no purpose but to call down these curses. I follow no path save the drive towards oblivion, cruelty the only kindnesses allowed. The days bend and bend, falling off the plot of continuity, scaling the cliffs that memory leaves behind. Flowers dying in the scenery, dust and death clotting every single breath. No side left that will stay mine, no battle that...
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I serve no purpose but to call down these curses. I follow no path save the drive towards oblivion, cruelty the only kindnesses allowed. The days bend and bend, falling off the plot of continuity, scaling the cliffs that memory leaves behind. Flowers dying in the scenery, dust and death clotting every single breath. No side left that will stay mine, no battle that...
Read More
sunset song
The dust danced as the light dappled on and off, the strobe of sun and leaf, the glamour of wind and shine. The sun lingered, adrift in a polished blue sky. The sun lingered, squandering its grace as it might. The ache was that absence of romance, that rend along the mend of mind and hunger. The ache that was the settling of...
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The dust danced as the light dappled on and off, the strobe of sun and leaf, the glamour of wind and shine. The sun lingered, adrift in a polished blue sky. The sun lingered, squandering its grace as it might. The ache was that absence of romance, that rend along the mend of mind and hunger. The ache that was the settling of...
Read More
martyr
Another day and the meaning is elusive. All the words lined up, birds on a wire, stones in a row. Dust all that is left of the garden, some warnings about the machinations of snakes, fig leaves and another angry thunderer. The precepts of poems and history, laid down between the readings. The vastness travelled always somehow lost in transit. These old bones, this...
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Another day and the meaning is elusive. All the words lined up, birds on a wire, stones in a row. Dust all that is left of the garden, some warnings about the machinations of snakes, fig leaves and another angry thunderer. The precepts of poems and history, laid down between the readings. The vastness travelled always somehow lost in transit. These old bones, this...
Read More
