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135 lines
3.4 KiB
135 lines
3.4 KiB
<[[Brennen]]> I sort of fixed these so they are readable again. A downside would be that they are in fixed-width text. I should figure out some kind of poetry notation so that it's easier to write with the line breaks.
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= the dude on a moped poem =
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Dude on a moped.
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Yellow moped.
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White dude.
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Driving down Interstate
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in boring Ohio.
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A blip in my vision and then
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gone forever like a
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bug flying past the car that
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actually doesn't hit the windshield.
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(It doesn't seem there are many
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of those, but really
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how would you know?)
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Drive, dude.
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Drive.
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= the small wakefulnesses poem =
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half past one
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a.m., house creaks with
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small wakefulnesses--
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cellar spiders navigating
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stolen webs
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in concrete corners, always dark;
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drunken moths
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dash themselves against the lights and
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drape their folded wings on walls.
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all move under silences
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flung heavily into the air,
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heedless of the disembodied
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whispers in the hall.
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(in their lives)
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sleep and wake are just the same.
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somewhere within an arm's reach
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i can feel ghosts in motion,
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glinting shadows reaching forward
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toward memories i cannot see.
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windows trick reflections, wonder
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why i am afraid,
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and wait quietly as yesterday
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walks resolutely by.
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:You know you're better at this game than I am.
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Bah. Maybe one time in fifty. Have you any idea how much complete shit I've had the sheer audacity to commit to the page?\\
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But, thanks. That's a higher compliment than you think.
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= the poem we mostly know too well =
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icy dew at two a.m.--
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you are on your knees,
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convulsions hidden by draped shadow
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and my jacket on your back.
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(those last two beers were a mistake.)
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flowing from this near-darkness
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breezes wake my tired mind;
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I think of the last
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two hours-- you
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crumpled on the bathroom floor
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a red streak in that pale room
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murmuring "I hate myself".
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I sat on my knees and looked
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up to sky-blue hand towels
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embroidered with
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(what I think are)
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irises,
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as though praying at an
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altar.
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= the sunrise 7:48 poem =
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Tweak, nudge, shift, delete, beige keyboard keys clatter.
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Maybe, just maybe, she thinks, I can finally sit back and say, "There."
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:I added a newline after "mirrors.". Does that work? Because if it does, I think it's finished.
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It does.
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sunrise 7:48 a.m.
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belly-lit clouds
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rolling over-and-back, they are
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oceans, escaping
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swept out over Nebraska
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(no doubt regretting it,
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now)
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turn my car down the highway
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past bare frozen fields,
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sky's tide rising in the rear
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-view mirrors.
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this one goes out to
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tomorrow.
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= the inevitable poem =
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Our family, gathered around the dining room table, is shrinking again--in numbers, and away from one another. Is this the irreversible trend, or just the day?
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The world outside is bright blue, alert and despairing against glaring kitchen lights. Close the curtains, because every nightmare is approaching from across bare fields...
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= ( =
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our family
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gathered around the dining room table
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is shrinking again
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-- in numbers
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and away from one another
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is this the irreversible trend
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or just the day?
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the world outside is bright blue
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alert and despairing against
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glaring kitchen lights
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close the curtains
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because every nightmare
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is approaching from across bare fields
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= ) =
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<[caeb]> holy buckets, this is still here.
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<[caeb]> *cough* and i note there's a space in my name.
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<[Brennen]> It's a software problem.
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