A lichen and moss covered wood bench.Squirrels discarding acorn husks from above.Just out of range from being skulled.Nike the dominant shoe walking by.Rarely an Asics; never a bougie ON brand shoe. Lots of white Air Force.The occasional Blundstone boot.Vans for the skaters and concert hipsters.An injury boot hobbles by.Doc Martens.A shoe something we’re allowed to …
And a purple-haired college girl sat down at the sleek black pianoin the corner of a fancy traditional room of the EMUwith rustic oil paintings on the walls.She banged out a genius five-minute meandering songof dancing young hearts that made all of usappear ugly for not knowing how to playan instrument so beautifully.
And the house-less, home-less, place-less, loneliness of Eugene streets bicker with themselves as the orange morning breaks.There are spoils to be divided from the student housing dumpsters.A man with nothing still wants something, and apparently that’s me today. Slow orienting to spikes of sunlight on 13th Street.Go east toward the coffee shop then further to …
Morning show. First light.The brain is different at dawn. There are secrets in every one of us, and they’re the same secrets.They’re the ones that jump out at us when we read great literature.The voices that come from our own encoded recipe within.The secrets that sound like gospel when we read religious books.Secrets that sound …
And the woman in the park wearing scrubs heads to work.She’ll send catheter-driven blades, saws and cameras through pig and antelope hearts. What are you resisting?If your life was saved, what for?If saved by a high-tech catheter, what for? What is this day for?Does anyone really need artwork?
