Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

my alibis are ballistic
more like hard taps
than the old soft excuse
time has come the walrus bled
and arctic talk on raw fishes
makes me know
that you have to feed the polar bears
or they will eat you

heh heh heh heh

yuk yuk yuk
cluck cluck cluck
quack quack quack
nyuk nyuk nyuk

"rage warps my clearest cry to witless agony"

as some freak said;
if I recall, his name was Ted.

latah

dylan keeps his end of the deal
what's goin on with me
pushed to a corner

a white box is losing patience
saturday night stirs my mind
the week-to-be spills over the side

quiet deliberation -to run now
or to face it like a real woman

time undulates in quiet spanish guitar

a man yawns
a man yawns again
a man takes it personally
a man eyes his holster

the story of a moment in time

a woman shouts
a woman shouts again
a woman takes it personally
a woman eyes her agony

the story of all the time.

There are ten more minutes
to string along verses.
We are immersed
in deadwinter,
ten minutes
to dig out
warmth
from
an
icicle
day.

a man yawns
a woman shouts
a child laughs
a singer croons

a poet freezes
a writer teases
7 minutes = 2 chances to change the world

Let all women speak their peace,
all men speak their treatises
and vows as we are soon
to be silenced
by a closed door.

Thank you all for
making your voices more
than I had hoped.

I grope in darkness
looking for a lightswitch
to turn off.

You have enlightened
the dreary winter
with your auras.

my luminous aura
bows in radiant modesty
twas nothin

twas everything
it was
and more

night
bitter
and
words,
warmth
to dig in
a lifetime.
In mother-nature,
we are so consumed.
There is only eternity and me
to string theories across the Earth.

if there be wider consciousness
let me be a permanent tourist

Give me your final words now
as the time is nigh
to thank your
spirits and
say goodbye –

and I
will try
to pacify
myself
with
your
truths
when we
are through.

The curtain comes down.
We are all brand new.

graceful exit

I, one who writes,
but barely pays attention
to the now and the right now,
the this and the somehow,
buried deep within teasing
I gasp in realization.

Cold, under snow-
Is it not when all is barren
that we learn to grow?