in praise of winter walking

on winter walking there exists a perpetually blooming bush deep murky purple flowers en route down church street turn around corner then more down hill walking to exercise track that each time startles always in awe. even now i feel its vibrant nonchalant thereness, a kind of beloved mocking my senses into awareness of acquiesced petals floating abstractions gracing the ground. purple praised up hands against the blue beyond.

it is speaking to me, '"i cannot be denied, come unto me,
you cannot resist my infinity, gaze upon me. i am beauty."
it speaks the truth.
i am humbled to be enraptured so. hallelujah, hallelujah!

--20 july 2009
--2 august 2009

Will this world remember you

Quiver

it's like a flagrantly thrown dagger with no thought for the hearts in its path.
--écrit le 5 février 2009

Vermillion gape

Take me with vermillion words.
Cleave me.
I can take the weight.
An open violet gape wants to create.
I have enough inside.
I am not closing the cave door.

--le 5 juillet 2009

Internal Dialogues

SOME FIND HER BEAUTIFUL

"Love finds and sees beauty,
so those who love her find her beautiful,
i'd imagine.

(pregnant pause)

But damn,

(petite pause)

she ugly tom."


FAME HOUNDESS

"i ain't no pyscho celebrity fame houndess"


"to grease my sustained interest and energy"
--written dialogues, 17 july 2009


KEEP REPEATING

"and you, i repeat stuff tom.
i be repeating stuff over and over,
damn, over and over,
keep repeating."
--verbal dialogue, 1 july 2009

Matin d'Adieu Michael Jackson

Dear God, let us be alive before we die.

and the telling and the telling is the story.
and the story is the searching, the understanding.
-le 23 juin 2009

The violent hours

The violent hours.
Thoughts like tired birds.
To be beloved in this world,
The hungry night.
Redeem what you must do now.
A conscious decadence
Trying to tempt truth to dance with me.
What do i know?
Breathe fearlessly.

-le 7 mai 2009

melbourne eyes

....succulent and vivid

Sunday Morning Permutation

i'm up early here being graced with many wonderful different birds talking singing sqawks
to my ears that speaksings to me each morning just beyond the glass of my elevated abode.
i yearn one daily voice in particular to see his or her song and what types couleurs of body feathers is worn up there in all those tress by that one my feather friend. i am grateful to witness the cyclical permutation as dawn veers her head latterly, the world shifting as darkness lengthens with the sun's ebbing presence in the heavens reversing.

third person narrative

......third person narrative evokes the writer and the character(s).