Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 19, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

06-19-05 9:50pm sunday

that reminds me. of how. of when. i can't look at those fingerprints without pressing against. without wondering whom they might belong to. anyone?

that sways me. cause i feel sometimes gentle like that. when rigid has worn out its welcome the soft miracously comes back.

reels changing. movies of life. that black oval in the upper right signals to someone that it's time.

give me half. give me three quarters. just not all. not everything. i can't stay til the credits come. can't sit in the dark and wait for somone else to turn the lights on.

watching is persuasive. yet passive. listening no longer soothes my senses. as it once did. like a hungry flower i am deaf to anything but color.

capture the leaf, but leave the stem. leave me if you must. without wings. but still able to stand.

i can't remember why i started writing. can't fathom when it could ever end. everything is middle. so full of itself that it can't move.

weeds between the sidewalk spaces tickling your ankles. every step you take causes you to brush up against.

but what you feel of is not felt by them.

06-19-05 sunday 10:05pm

leaving now with yourself in hand. just a pale shadow of what you are able to grasp. moving away from. never toward. just as the ocean will always push itself away from. in endless waves that lick but never are able to swallow the shore.

grasping firm in your plight to resolve. who will be your victim. could it end with that girl or will the woman suffer for.

if i had an answer surely i would've committed it to words by now. but like the seasons all i can do is change. only to eventually revert back to that same old form.

just as the voice i hear when listening unfurls its furrowed brow. it's soft and sweet, yet surly. poisoned with a life that's exceeded its years. and spends each night longing to retrieve them.

if it was as easy as it ought to be, i'd long since have convinced her that she should. though i'm not possessed of any good reason. i know if i were to offer one, she'd take it if she could.

because yesterday lays there in the street like roadkill. and the faster we can escape its stench, the more likely we are to drive as fast as velocity will allow.

yesterday has never been a threat. but tomorrow always will.