3 brief trifles , born of ice , dying of inaneness :Then the ice came , the ice i say , the ice ; and the ice lay heavy on my body , my cold inert body , like your whispers lay on my broken heart ; your crass murmuring ; your heartless jests ; the barbs that you flung my way stuck fast to my heart like the icicles now form on the tip of my nose , and only because i am thoroughly tongue-tied can i not throw back the insults you have laid heavy on my lethargic and blue heart ; the muscle that once beat strong feeding on the warmth that ebbed from your spiritual being now drubs on like a weak and broken tom tom ; a toy drum because i guess the love never was real , it was phantom-love , a pseudo and generic thing doomed to poop out and melt to a puddle , like the ice that encases my freezing body will someday , maybe next spring , with the thaw , my body ... frozen ; my love forgotten ; it will melt away , and i will defrost ; rot and seep into the dirt ; become one with dirt and forget love because love is hard , crueler and harder then the teeth that gnaw the dirt , the worm teeth of the worm i have become !
__________________________________________
Needles ... spiky green needles , and they are right there , now !
Only , when you are in a hurry , and the needles are a detriment , then for the love of giant extinct sloths ! cripes ! The damned needles .
Of course when you need a needle , a spiky green needle , there never is a one . But now , needles ! Everywhere . Save us from the needles ; go and needle another and leave me be , you cursed needles from hades ! Ahg , another needle !
__________________________________________
i love you , Filbert ; i will watch you grow in distortion ; you will be green and twist about yourself unsure of direction , but the fun is in the journey not the destination ; you will spread and you will flower and you will attempt immortality by way of your precious catkins ; others might grow taller , straighter ; but none will be closer to heaven or my heart .
2 comments:
Know what I love about your stuff? I love the combination of dark and light, the serious and the silly, like a rollercoaster that swings low into the abyss, then back up into the sunlight of a Spring morning. It's a rare combination, and one that requires that elusive spark of inspiration to pull it off. It's a gift, no doubt.
Your drawings remind me of the sixties in some ineffable way, and something else, too . . . but I can't put my finger on it just now. The photography is equally evocative, and grand.
The Flickr site seems to bring out the best in all of it, but that's just my perception of course.
Hope you keep experimenting. I have the sense the next stage will be even better, and the one after that better yet, and etc. and etc.
Morph on, dude!
well , thanks ; nice to taken seriously as a writer who definetely isn't a serious writer ... right back at ya -- the morphing thing , you know .
Post a Comment