Monday, October 23, 2017

Bones

Who knows...

               Bones
Who knows...

               Bones
And bones and bones and bones
Holding together muscle and skin across the cloudy empty spaces, the tight wound nerves in the sky empty places.
But who knows...
     
               Bones, not even real, not even tangible, stable little rattling scaffolding, and in places weak and rotten.

Who cares...
             Except the way it gets expansive in the middle, the muddling exhalation of air and the rising inflection at the end.

Who knows...
               Bones
But it is utterances that hold us up

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Cartography

Jesse S. Mitchell


And until it all bleeds out Disney.
Bright four color pomp.
The precious cartography, a light that enters our eyes blurred like paint but still and quiet that leads us through the plot twists and story arcs
And all the things that never pay off
Like mystery and warm water, cultishly warped around the body.
Inbetween the lights.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Embryo

And then it was the ocean
And it surrounded me
All around and every side
And with failing faiding echoes
The waves came round and broke against me
And that was all the world was.

Monday, March 6, 2017

Machine

Here comes the grungy sky machine,
The deportation machine.
Here it comes, chugging over the hills, thristy,  the drink up the oceans machine,
The chew up the folks and spit them out machine. Bloody.
Here it is, the powerless to stop it machine, the get behind me, satan machine.
The purple bruise machine, the beaten black and blue machine.
And here we are, the railways, on the railway, strikers with the sabots in our hands.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Ex. 1

Jesse S. Mitchell

One word
Dislocation

Two words
Inebriated enthusiasm

Eight words
The natural ebbing and flowing of regional expectations

Many words
Black out drunk. World war and eye fatigue. This planet, spins. A dervish. Mystic. Slamming into every wall, and mad, every kind of boundary, a rush around, blind and increasingly wild. Those wobbly orbits, uncontrollable, smashing everything into rubble. Rubble and dust. And that's us, the crumble, rubble, and dust falling off broken like meteor showers.a

Sunday, January 29, 2017

Anduruna

These are the mistakes we make while we are busy watching the mistakes we make as we mend.

And isn't it strange the ways
The bones heal?
Deformed in places, thicker
But always firmer, in spite of breaks.

We as etymology of a word. Diffused as code over years, confused. Saturated in static.

But isn't it funny the way
The meanings come through, blurred, fuller
But always plain, despite the cracks.

Blood type. DNA. RNA. neurosis. And panic. Healthy family. Blue eyes. Brown eyes. Cells divide. Redivide.

But it is always similar.
The faces always familiar, peculiar in places, stronger. Evolved mammalian. But always fractured to let the light come home.