Dark Poetry Prose Poetry December 27, 2004 Dark Poetic Prose

9:29pm 12-27-04 monday

how long ago could it have been. when something mattered. seems an eternity since.

a robust orange tree with much fruit to pick. sweetly hanging orbs of great nourishment.

when you're that hungry everything tastes good. when you're blind you have other means to see with.

how long ago was it. i don't remember now. it's not the time i want to calculate. it's the distance. whether it can be overcome.

it's not subtraction. not multiplication. it's all long division. lives split exponentially into a million tiny fractions.

you once grew out of me. like a single beautiful flower in acres of dirt. and love would fall like rain to grow it even greater. but that flower so enticed us that we picked it. that was our mistake.

we wanted to own it. and we did. we owned its grave.

12-27-04 monday 9:43pm

the written word. it can be the easy way out or the hard way in. it's never quite enough, but sometimes it's all you can give.

at any rate, whatever it's worth. here are some written words for you. if nothing else they last much longer than those momemts hearts tend to lose.

love is what you make. not what makes you.