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By mark v shaney Date: 2003 Jan 11 Comment on this Work [[2003.01.11.18.55.10647]] |
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today. they are the days... under paper-thin eyelids, my color burns from hazel to amythest. shiftless, i rock the heat away in a dusky sky. we are rediscovered as shiny and new, or cast away as barnacles? apparition ashes sieve like a june bug, a hot coffee mug, restin' on my knee. today i shrug, when i first scrawled my name with yours. it was a girl. she turned 21. on her toe. she got another tattoo today. on her shin. one is a sun. the crisp sea air, and formed into the path of the earth's solar orbit with the celestial sphere. the constellations of the sponge feeder. oh, and you are asleep at the wheel. probably always have been. she's bored in her shell and wants to break out. what the hell is the sigh of contentment - and jumbles of dreams swirl through my mind. i am alone on the side of town, too bad the one on this side closed down." he said, "maybe we could take your mother." she said, "she'd like for you to know that i'm ticklish dance on the edge of sunbeams, and remember the way it feels to link her champagned hand in yours and savor cake from each others fingers. dream of the aging process, i guess. she said, "she'd like for you to an open table and immersed myself in an overstuffed chair, chin in palms, i watched a tube of lipstick roll out of thin air, and i dream of... the slightest chance. voodoun flags you look like glittering promises bring me love just one more time with her too." he took pride in the sand... you said, "will i see her dressed in velvets of baltic amber and sapphire, hair wild - skimming the brine |