Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

pass the lady a free massage
phones off the hook
appointment booked

time to test the cardamom
mon, comeon

doreen's still in the pizza box
she's missing her own party
but that's the story of her life

we don't often fight for the covers
legs are warmer than peppers
close the box for seven minutes

'it's a damn cold night'
avril lavigne just told me

there's a warm pizza box
with your number on it
close your eyes and make a wish

as days tumble
into my open hands
and pile up like sugar
lighter
and sweeter than
any dream could ever be

as my feet get heavy
dragging drunk lines
into the syrup
of the road

i rise my eyes
in hope to see a sky

but all i see are
steps

my own movements

sneaking across a
curved horizon

used to play kissing games like kids
one was called Seven Minutes in Heaven
you had to have a closet

anemone makes a furtive escape
a rush for the door
between phone cords
and temporary blockades

sweet apples whisper
"Beaujolais, tonight"
anemone readies her glass
surreptiously poised

ready to dash towards the party
swiftly but softly
her aura lingers on

yes, pass me massages and cardamom
get that lady dor out of the pizza box
light that clayman a cigarette (or more)
and offer a whole grapelit sky to judih

this day's a mosaic of tastes

today's like a ship in a storm
it's hard to keep balance
while the mad ark
is plowing its way through moody waves

and judih sits behind her bamboo wall
and clay and dor are still wrestling with the pizza box and theri ahses
and mark is climbing scaffolds and minutes
in between other minutes and his notebook
and wylde has left traces
and
...?

smorgasbord of lou reed and tin boxes
plate glass and postcards from paris
anger and bliss
tossed grape balloons
over suddenly calm seas
as loch ness nellie dances
tripping to ireland, we expect nothing less

someone's tickling my seabed
toes between seaweed
coral excitement

panta, our words are flying to you
yesterday doreen made it from the pizza box to the mail box
expect the package of our expectaions to arrive soon

a rose quarz and a hippie plant
(tousled and unkempt)
buena vista social club on paper
and old photo in a frame
postcards and scissors
a grey sky lurking through the window
an origami camel
and a silver loop of light
and a cup of coffee
and an almost
fallen night....

time to import words.
i'm gonna rip open a letter from barry fitton:
yeah, stealing with full credit:

Time-slips on a Sunday evening



I remember

the first time

that

I

traced the outline

of your body

with soft

feather light

fingers

a Marco Polo

journey

across

unknown

skin



I

remember

the first time

that

you opened for me

warm

wet

thighs

trembling

lips

quivering

as I

entered

into

you





I

remember

the first time

that

I

tasted you

salt, wet

honeydew

nectar

dripping

into

my

mouth

from

above



I

remember

the first time

that

I

saw your tears

as you turned

to say

goodbye

now

each night

I remember

and

each night

is

always

the

first

time


Barry Fitton


yeah, words from Barry - riff if you like....

packed expectations
expected package -

yes! words carried by sounds
on the way!

(thanks! can't wait...)