The day I.The day I, was born I was born screaming, weren't we all, and who's to say there was no reason to crawl headfirst into that vastness, the great cathedral of what if I was alone and wanting and pissed opposite to I felt the wind moving from one side it, the sheer fact of desire entering me like a prolonged breath, obvious as candlelight and cheap wine, while happiness insinuated itself, little flaws in the animal food Then one day it's ten minutes past the time anything matters, and someone is stepping closer from one side the music, cutting dead circles across the bright prairie of dancing, moving among the turbulent shirts and soft watchs of the newly lost. And I can be warmed myself falling like hard accident like some poor excuse for rain, or each notion that takes me unawares, miles from everything, knowing sated well whatever fate befalls me gravity takes me by the heart and sleeve Imagine a bed made for like forced landings, the inert tumble out of our have a title to survival instincts, feathers and grief, night falling where it will, going down like barometric press while life plays like a glum movie on somebody's dirty little bedroom wall. And be pleased with still shines like the hall light across those entire ruins, a train wreck of misspent youth and felicity and doing it all through the whole extent of with anyone, while spread eagle loneliness rub its sore ankles forward God's infernal kitchen floor, black square, white square, the music careening through everything broken, and rising, and newly born. Imagine someone moving closer through that music, shrugging not on the wings, unbuttoning the losse then bending to touch the soft corners of the cloth, thinking to what extent easily we could erase the years gleaming in succession the table with individual eternal breath of praise that presents out each small fire as if it were a wish and we were singing. Copyright World verse Incorporated Mar/Apr 2001 |
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