Dark Poetry Prose Poetry March 25, 2006 Dark Poetic Prose

3-25-06 saturday 10:26 pm

soft iron on hard fabric. presses upon delinquent seams. they wander. pull away from each other. lumbering aimlessly like dinosaurs before the meteor. everything is gone. that's what is written on the chalkboard. but the eraser tells a different story. it's too clean.

there was never anything there. other than expectations. moments holding their breath. like children bargaining for what they can never have.

the apostle in the courtyard counts the petals on the rose. one. two. while its roots finger the soil. in earnest, teenage sex.

occupying the quadrants that otherwise would be dormant. stumbles the cloud to rain again.

release.

touch that world down below always looking up at with its accusatory stance.

scatter the sour in all directions. as the truth is, so must the lie be.

saturday 3-25-06 11:04pm

No tears. Just water. Life's foundation. Circumscribed. No hours. Only minutes accumulating. Those velvet ropes admonishing us back into line.

Just cancer. How sweet it takes. these beautiful poisons.

All the evils they tells us to avoid. The best of life. The atom in the bomb.

I wanted him to say something. But he just hung up.

I wanted to be different. Not so hard to reach.

I'll never know if i succeeded.

Are we still in quarantine. Are these poisons all we can know. How immune do you imagine yourself.

How much infection are you willing to own.

It tastes just how it ought to. Soiled garments discarded. It follows deliberately. As the moons chases the sun.

lost in the shadows of what we've let ourselves become.

So alone. A raindrop on a leaf. A beetle on its back.

So consumed. With the notion of having been known.

The crime tells me to trust it, but we are long since without that stage.

It bangs like a gavel. So definite.

And the jury is gone. There's no one to hold accountable.

Except. Color us in cornflower blue. Change yourself to suit me.

If you only could.