brass / words / 2007 / Grease

January 20, 2007

Snoopin'                              around that fire.

                                What are you doing there?

---

                                                "which twin was that?"

From downtown…                           Nice shot!

                                Well wouldn't you know it,

                                                                You weren't so far off…

Turns out….                        … I was born a lefty…

                                ---

Here?                                    That presence…

                                Weird.

                                                Spectacular sirens.

Ringing in her eyes.

                                                Someone special

Has rung. Again. In my mind.                      Someone.New()

Special clings to the

underside of my                                               Safehouse.

                                And in the morning I hear her.

Sitting next to her.                          Something has clicked.

The caverns have                                             found their way

Once again.                                                        A windy winding enclave

Of fortunes forgotten.                                  Where the dry clay

And the rocky shores                                     of her quieted arms.

The ringing                                          pulsating

                                Emerging             maddening filth

Subsided                             subscision           circumscision.

                I crack her sky                                    I own her light.

Hidden seams                                   melted dreams.

 

Sweetened malt.                             Sweated state.

                                                Please rock me.

Grease the warpaint.                                     Children's screams

are at hand.

Click the sunder.

Ride the thunder.

Thousands ride the salty rhetoric.

                Grimaced troubles slowly beckon furious rudders outright.