Thursday, October 28, 2010

The Breakfast Table

She closed her eyes at the breakfast table.
Her lips slightly evinced her hearts pastoral
praise. The words I never knew but I
could feel her spirit true. Toasted
rye with marmalade and grapefruit juice
seemed sacred there, raptured for the
moment. In those few minutes each
morning she seemed so close to being
free. I had only to ask, and she would
have shared, would have lead me to her
peace. Instead my vanity was in her
grace, my greed in her beauty. She
closed her eyes at the breakfast table.

FOH

Add caption

Don't No - Lyrics.

Because ya'll just have no idea what the heck I'm talking about. And by "ya'll" I mean my one visible and my one invisible followers.

Tripped on a dollar hit my head on a dime
Stained my white collar lost track of the time
Asked a smiling dragon for a smoke and some change
He didn't mind me begging but he thought I looked strange

Boarded up the windows telephoned my old man
Never left Los Altos went and bought a van
Wiped my feet on the mat that welcomed me home
Left a tip for the doorman left a note for the storm


Shivered like feathers on a frost bitten hen
Fell from the rafters swapped a loon for a yen
Unbuttoned my blue collar - reached for the time
Spent my last dollar losing track of a dime

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Don't No

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gBJO-AVqgk

I accidentally deleted the last post of this trying to get a thumbnail to show up. Oh well. I do it again.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Lucy

Red Eternal

He hasn’t been around lately;
but I still see
his shadow on the wall, the dirt
from his shoes on the mat in front
of the door. So I vacuum
the mat.
Scrub the walls with bleach, then paint them
red.
White just doesn’t stand
the test of time. Red however, is
eternal. Red is anger and war and – love?
Anger. War. Love.
The three unified in their
eternity.
Anger is,
war is,
love is – eternal.
Now with the mat at my door clean,
with anger, war
and love surrounding me, I
know he will return. This time there will be
fingerprints on the light switches
and dog-eared pages in my favorite book
of poems.