Archive for June 7th, 2011
The Morning’s Commute with Wild Tree Tops
Mind fuses empty prairies
with blurring confusion,
shrieking of the morning commute.
Trees, higher than the Rockies,
with crowned top hats of
barbaric branches blowing terribly
in Kansas wind
while lower shoots
remain sane and statuesque.
Tin can with carcasses of cushion,
floating, aiming for oblivion.
All of the structures disappear,
melting in tanks of tan cereals.
The cement far below
is icy air.
Tree tops whip messy, red jello
through my ears, out my eyes,
baking my brain.
American flags
sift through dust above the trash,
only some half mast,
many ragged like the city,
sitting in the boiling crater,
allowing no escape.
The city I swim in
while glowing orange
with a determined
but massively unconscious
survival mechanism.
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Is it Wednesday again??
Not yet, but it is One Shot Wednesday #49! Go check out the fine work this week!
Today’s Madness
Confined dark,
papers with yellow,
raspberry,
strawberry,
thwart view of continuum
of thick disasters.
My Day in Six Words – XX
Gratitude,
life “preservers,” chance,
higher powers.
Gratitude, Not Fake 100
I swarm and I can smile. Pants are baggy, shoes creaky and cracked. Need new shoes. Why would I wear a coat when it’s 95 degrees? Peoples’ faith is so tentative, and I wonder why the dismissal is wicked. In some ways, I’m a master, and they’ll miss me. I wrap things honestly. Maybe there’s too much medicine, maybe I’m a dog. If I’m not in the dungeon, is it too much? Sealed from the airplane. I swear it is an airplane, and it haunts me terribly. Fly me away while I’m smiling in my blue suit, eating plastic food.
