Why weary, and palsy arm at the oar? (Melville) Broken pattern and white whale seen. Avenging life with unity. On the path repeated, surrounded by poison oak and cactus needles,the birds tease endlessly. Laughing back at them. Everything here is already done. Surrounded by spiders who craft low-lying traps for the day. Things happening in …
Ah, to sit slack-jawed, studying the hours unasked for. Pushing logic onto illogic. Knowing it’s more fun without the thinking. Why even put pen to it? The world goes by one streetcar desire at a time. Thinking the others are well informed. Hoping they’re amused, stuffing faces with popcorn and shadows on silver cave walls. …
If the scene is nothing, and the production crew is no one, then hire the director, actor, writer, lighting team and cinematographer. Demand action and hope the straw dogs provide some kind of crazy to bounce off of. Can you give them lines by offering lines? Act one, scene one, take two. “This moment is …
If infinitywould quickly devour me I’d see the sun had been turned outand moon plunged into sea All tales eradicatedAll evidence annihilated The toads and hares and worms and bearsall incinerated The purple leaves of plastic treesThe mustard seedof focused greedThe bugs on trailsThe wins and failsThe rocks in patternsLights and lanterns Mary Poppins, Peter …
This poem held up as a desire to be involved in something completely ridiculous. Dress me up in jester clothes. Plaster on the decades. Only to tear off the costume and act surprised it was so simple. Huh.
