Mike Ditka and the '85 bears vs. Led Zeppelin
Prediction: Walter Payton delivers a stiff-arm so severe to a Jimmy Page guitar solo, that he creates a rift in the space-time continuum. Score: End of the Universe
Friday, November 27, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Passage
there is a woolen nest
under the walls of oblivion
silently constructed
by ghosts
in a dome as old as stone
soft paws grind my bones
unhinged
into strange shapes
gentle whispers bend carefully
through the night
around insect screams
and flowing light
quivering in greaves
I hear small questions
bounce against fluid stillness
met with slow dark blue replies
my body shakes
broken on the backseat
I float by heavy metal gravity
steady . steady . steady
to Little's home
under the walls of oblivion
silently constructed
by ghosts
in a dome as old as stone
soft paws grind my bones
unhinged
into strange shapes
gentle whispers bend carefully
through the night
around insect screams
and flowing light
quivering in greaves
I hear small questions
bounce against fluid stillness
met with slow dark blue replies
my body shakes
broken on the backseat
I float by heavy metal gravity
steady . steady . steady
to Little's home
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
What it feels like
1. You are standing in the ocean, thinking of robin songs and midnight rain
Your feet remain exactly 12 centimeters below the water
and in the glassy surface fluctuations
you bob up and down
like a derailed sowing machine
The gulls call and you slowly rotate
2. You are a layer cake, with mayonnaise substituted for icing
contradictory flavors held together in space and time
Spoiled, you are resigned to eat alone
3. You are a cat, charming a bird through a pane of glass
The awkward clucks you make do not find their target
But reflect back to the boy standing behind you
Your feet remain exactly 12 centimeters below the water
and in the glassy surface fluctuations
you bob up and down
like a derailed sowing machine
The gulls call and you slowly rotate
2. You are a layer cake, with mayonnaise substituted for icing
contradictory flavors held together in space and time
Spoiled, you are resigned to eat alone
3. You are a cat, charming a bird through a pane of glass
The awkward clucks you make do not find their target
But reflect back to the boy standing behind you
Friday, March 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
the king of fools
said to me:
I am a Prarie Chicken, a Whooping Crane
a boy with a bat, kicking the snow
The morning and night call out my name
and I unroll wildly into new topographies
I fold into the space between grains of sand
and stalk clouds hung high over saturday afternoons
I ride the winds, I fall on rains
I grow with the grass,
laugh at babies,
clap for thunder,
I have forgotten my own name
and ask you for a cigarette
I have spent all my money
on a sunrise
and burned my shoes
to celebrate heat and light
My body is all dusty bones
and rattling leaves
a wagon wheel and
a plaster floor
Where I go
you cannot follow
but I have been wrong
before
I am a Prarie Chicken, a Whooping Crane
a boy with a bat, kicking the snow
The morning and night call out my name
and I unroll wildly into new topographies
I fold into the space between grains of sand
and stalk clouds hung high over saturday afternoons
I ride the winds, I fall on rains
I grow with the grass,
laugh at babies,
clap for thunder,
I have forgotten my own name
and ask you for a cigarette
I have spent all my money
on a sunrise
and burned my shoes
to celebrate heat and light
My body is all dusty bones
and rattling leaves
a wagon wheel and
a plaster floor
Where I go
you cannot follow
but I have been wrong
before
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