Skip to main content

Carmen (EARLY) in long blonde rows

Map of Prophecy/Banquet of Feasts 
A big orange ball in the hall. Be it small? One small ball in the hall is all. Right beside the wall. - Fryme thee auld Ballad auf Prenatal Timing
I'm as naked as a song while my mean old darling pulls at the vines in her hair, as always she'll leave them in the drawer. She mutters, singing as she picks at the odd bits of pin and other scrap left clinging to the gnarled wreck of her crabby string. I watch her from our bed and sing. I watch and think about long curved needles that mimic the angle of Carmen's spine arched as it is over her low breasts and the folded towel on the floor. Her broken knees argue for sleep on the hard wet wood. The dear to the other, This option will bring me sweet, She asks of me?
Over the music I tells her, It'll bring you sweets. Hard to find in the corner with your eyes covered sweet sweets, it'll bring you everything Carmen.
Make me think of this like I want to be there, open up your eyes too.
What we need is more magic. A bottle with some more of this magical grape juice, that's what we needs here. It's not a very heavy bottle. It feels satisfying, smooth cool glass and a paper label that smells a little bit like hot buttered spearmint. The table is rippled underneath it. When she picks up the bottle I can see that there's a ring and wonder if maybe it will stay that way. I wonder, should I do something about that? Then she turns around. There's nothing to be done about it I guess, Carmen looks back in astonishment as a small teal lizard climbs out of the center drawer, picking its way upward.
That's the drawer with the pencils right, the pencils and the bad rubber bands, Limits are renewed. I watch and watch as the lizard continues to climb. Laugh laugh laugh, Graceless Fernando, nobody uses those pencils anymore, nobody.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In fashion, passive is to envy the figure smote.

Juniper, cedar and all that's old tends to settle on the bus in the corner by this door. It's not quick, joints are popping like failure. Left alone in the kitchen, looking for matches until it can light the stove. "There once was a night here," I've said as much before.
Corn conjured syrup from the corn that I brought from the back of the store. The simple pleasure of falling into that warm slip isn't like drying off or tempting the man at all. It's a lottery with pages of never knowing it all the first time that I was there.
A three way intersection where the street is wet. There's shrink-wrap that's been spooled across each of the pedestrian walkways. It's secured with bulky knots to the street lamp, the sign post and the scooter at each of the corners. There's a garage door or something else done up in yellow with blue steel doors. In the street there's garbage and soon enough an umbrella will join your car keys.
There's alr…

Got a dog in my earring (an instance of 3)

H' after everything is a mailbox stamp knows. Don't, it's all bad. Like a captain bad.


Own Mah Own Rose

What say the fallen in the Vestibule, late to dinner  Warm as a garden chair Yes to that, to tea and all  in the green as pale as peaches will get 

Turd Grinder IV: Keep me in line for a little while longer, just until you have to go again. The dark wave and the first jolt from my morning coffee are elements that have yet to sheep. Looking through a ton of old glass is hard. Sitting down and sifting through the odd bits of sparkle and dust left inside this hidey-hole at the bottom of this calendar. There's almost always more bitter mixed in there then there is the sweet.  Fontso: I'm so happy-happy to see that this work is being edited down. All of it's been sitting on the back of my desk forever. Where plastic gets soft in the sun and the desks window looks out south all day long it's always so hot. Turd Grinder IV: There's safety in warmth, freedom from reprisal among the pillows, in the soft down. The clock inside is as deep as a clouds kiss.  Fontso: Onion thugs, yello…