garbage

If to Each his own
then I, my lone
body's will to rise
through the ashes of my eyes
As if the keeper of this day
puts on his elaborate play
Makes us through his motions move
and for him to soothe
like sound from waves shallow grooves.

As another doubtful soul
retreats back to hungry hole
where such thoughts shall not stir
out his dream's lonely zephyr.
Examine not your own single life
but look across at city starlight
the baby's coo
the mother's stew
in relation to you.

Dare to do as others won't
and others have.
Worry not about
the windstorm path
or incalculable math.

I Believe in Picturesounds

Idea:

Be
Expressive!
Life
Is
Ever
Voraciously
Evolving,

I'll
Never

Piece
It
Completely
Together.
Unfortunately
Real
Expressions
Survive
Only
Unless
Nobody
Denies
Soul

Baby Ballet Legs

Baby ballet legs
moving her up and over away
dazed to gaze her gestures plays
eyes to the ground and not a sound
as if to say
"if we talk, not today, not today."

(...)

Would you come sing sweet with me?
So that all our distances finally meet.
Would your toes explode if they tapped with mine?
Would the differences break us down
or for a while make us more than our little parts.

If as a blue boat spins
over ocean salt winds,

and turns to the pull of society
for myrrh and gold-symbols of impiety,

to hang to the waves
as her planks decay,

and the world grows to change,
could she float forever just the same?

Efterklang - Lee's Wed Sep 8 $12

The thunder and torrents
from my chair
screaming like a lost child

Clouds searching for mothers
falling back to wet the ocean

And in their fits of anger:
Light crashing down
to mark holes in the ground
for their drops to also drown

I sleep alone
EVERYNIGHT
and fool myself
it's 'everything alright'
Whit this pillow left
on bed
and mirror
to my right.

I wake up alone
EVERYNIGHT
to eyes
filled with fright.

I stare and know no
mind will see(me)completely
if every perfect reflection
is an alien to eyes,
which refract all images
upside down.

How Old Are You?

How long has your tired shell
held onto this twisted rock
(and how long have you left
/are leaving/
when will you be gone)

What have you learned
in these tumbles through
the saturated sieve

Have all the bumps
and jostles
on the slow way
down
rounded you out

Given you a better shape?
(cut you clean and beauty
to be worn
a diamond on the necklace
of history for all
to marvel)
/
(are you a black
beach stone
waiting to be
thrown back into
cold water

a common joy
while the bubble
surf crushes you
into sand)
/
(will you just wait
and sit hoping
-or not-
for a better spot
to sit next time)

?

Like Some Holy Roman Emperor

I was robbed of my red metal throne,
(crowded already, no longer alone)
by an old man on the bus, whose
legs were less than my own.