By the guppy
Date: 30 September 2000
inward/outward
I guess it's a feeling. It must be. Few things in life feel like a feeling does. If i had to nail it down, or pin it to the black tarry substance of a dissection tray, i'd do it this way: waving a checkered flag in a parking lot. If anyone called at this moment, that's what i'd say i was doing. I'm sure the response would be "huh?" I don't mind that response. If people respond with "huh?", at least you know they are listening. At least you know you're talking. At least you know something.
Flags. A checkered one isn't such a bad one to be waving. You can be pretty confident that nobody is going to be getting in heated arguments about whether or not it is ok to burn one. I like that in a flag. If a pyromaniac felt the need to take my flag and douse in in gasoline and light it on fire, i don't think i'd really care. It's not my favorite flag. It's not like a couldn't replace it if i needed to. And it would probably be pretty entertaining to see. But, then i'd be left waving a bare flagpole around in a parking lot. That would surely prompt a "HUH?" from any concerned parties. "HUH?" leads to either alarm or apathy, neither of which is desired.
naked font
bound and tethered
the shallow lick of asphalt, tires mellow
sit down easy, fellow
and wag
she'll catch up
tighten lips and reassure
frost line five feet deep
on a steep incline
dig in angled
dig in
break through
forget the place your aim took hold
forget the young
forget the old
it's pure desire that caught you
forget the cracks
they aren't wide enough to fall through
who's tommorrow's sunrise?
who's the break of day?
bow down to earth
kiss her a new path
allow the forward quaking steps
to be small and beautiful
to be beautiful
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner