bench

2003-03-15, 10:29 p.m.

on this bench i fins that only a little while ago I was with her and other friends. The duct taped sloganscovered the peace wishes. This man in a slate colored sweater shows his kids the colored photos in the plastic display case. The glass reflects a little boy who kicks his dog and shoots girls with squirt guns filled with vodka. My left ear rings. its beautiful. The little prince is in a prison tower, high above the city scape. The little boy had his voice stolen, he still wears his crown and he can see the city through the bared window. He bangs his head into the bars, hoping to catch someones attention. But when he hits the bars, the crown makes the most beautiful noise ever heard and all the people smile. No one ever finds the little boy. no one ever saves that prince.

The sun is sagging down like a heavy ball below smoke grey clouds. I never noticed but when you stare at the clouds covering the sun at the treeline, you can see rainbows on the edges. What is distance but relations? what is time except a reference? How can we live by two forces that are so STRONG, yet they exist only in reference to our lives and in relation to bodies of mass. Now the sun is below the clouds, leaving a yellow trail as my eye follows the pen. Fire trails words and burns away the meaning. Leaves structures that are gutted out, war torn cites of alphebetic form. I wonder where the point lies between heavy thought and pure silence. The point between inner thought and outer awareness. Busted capilaries on the iris and sun spots in your vision.

just like the sunset

a superimposed image

she is in the hall

I wonder/ cease to comprehend where it would sit in the mind of a person with the sentient life. Someone once said that humans kick up dirt and make a mess of the air, then complain that they cannot see. I dont think we evn have to do that. Its oh so easy to get lost with the right combination of colors in the sky tonight.

Green from the neck down

this landscape wears a warm coat

blue and purple sky

charcoal on my hands

exposes the wide canyons

Hands cover my face

animal symphony

wind, is conducting tonight

can you hear it?