Wednesday, July 30, 2008

she feels exciting on the inside,
this idea I gave her a splendid name on a springs later date,
soft plushes like the clouds with a hint of lightly shaded
madness, forested urbanisation we mimicked
what we couldn’t patent or plan for, development
scattered to the four corners of the sphere,
silly annunciations for my triptych intentions,
mentioned written a history forbidden, locked away
a page a day burned and ingrained, they left
them under a concrete slab, all of these wonderful
pieces, some fit together, others left themselves alone
tombs and marked stone
rotting in seas awash with memory,
the winding fabric in the wind,
millions of stench and cancerous scents, irritation
and procrastinations.

No comments: