Thursday, March 29, 2012

For certain

Because your palms are waiting
And the leaves they crush leave
Impossibly thin trails
In dusty dermal paths 
That demarcate 
The seasons you live to see,

And because the tip of your nose,
And your tired toes
And all that goes
In between
Is tense

In silent prediction.

Because the source of every rumble
Puts you in doubt
And the moody gray above
Makes you persistently peek out,

Because the first drop
Halted patiently to be
Ripe enough to float
It's many miles
For you.

Because the first drop
Will salve the tired dance
Of lashes that measures
In its blinks the wait,

Because you promise yourself
A cross-armed walk,
It will rain
For you.

Monday, March 26, 2012

sidebar portrait

The final sidebar portrait for The Dangling Binocular,
my Tumblr blog that seems to be static at the moment
because I'm still figuring out how to code.

Coding can get really confusing, How does my brother do it for a living?
Smarty pants.

Friday, March 16, 2012

In the Sloe Mo World

In the Sloe Mo world,

Babies stay babies longer,

Everybody can't help but wave back,

Strobes lights don't affect the epileptic,

All stitches are in time,

There are at least 4 generations who can compare
 their childhoods at one time,

Popsicles melt slower,

Popcorn stays crunchier,

Food chews itself,

Food stays warm longer,

There's more of food,

Which is a good thing because like happy 15 year olds
everyone is always hungry,

People always forget what page they were on,
instead, they read the ribs and spines and veins of books,
like it should be,

It's easy to keep track of the phases of the moon,

And the sea washes everything ashore that left home,

It brings me back to being a simpler life form that
has the time and willingness to evolve,
(but only in another lifetime)
and is happy to eat and be alive.

(maggi break)

In the Sloe Mo world,

Skirts are delightful,

Implants are frightful,

And the perpetual return of fashion keeps everyone
satisfactorily in mode.

Uno goes on forever,

Board games stretch across 4 tabletops,

Crayons have a mind of their own

And clumsiness is a certified state of being.

There are two good listeners to every conversation

And it takes rudely long to figure out if the next person
is a he or a she, so people have stopped caring.

No one spends free time on narcotics
because they finally take the time out to see the world for
what it can do to the senses, if given time.

Everyone can put out fires in time and still gaze at the
mad beauty with which this unfathomable state of matter
consumes every other.

In the Sloe Mo world, there are no deadlines,

And you don't hate yourself for prioritizing,

So a-waste-of-time becomes far more subjective,

And know this, that the people whom you'd
traverse time and space for, never are...

In the Sloe Mo world,

everyone has a time for a cuppa
what they like

and a spoonful of what the tongue feels
happy under

and you and I have time for a chat
that lingers