"A haze hangs over the city," she tries.

She tries: "A lenient master is a cruel master."

"Heavy hangs the head that wears the crown."

"I bet he's lonely in that big house."


She tries breathing.


She tries: "I'm strugging for independence."

She tries: "Posting this to Facebook shows courage. Not to post it shows cowardice."

"No one listens to me."

"No one listens anyway."


She tries smoothing the fur of a buffalo rug.
She tries feeling guilty.


"I just don't see it ever coming right," she tries.

"I need a god," she tries.


She tries praying.


She tries spooning coconut milk over her lips.
She tries playing games.
She tries cycling downhill, tries not to brake.


"I should have--"


She tries: "I must discover the meaning of 'will'."

She tries: "That cat is dying."


She tries dying.


"Only necessary things," she tries.

"I opened my eyes and it was still morning."

"Maybe it's all true."

Oppositions

A Go board
A black and white photograph
Two cats, not necessarily
black or white
My little way of thinking
or not thinking
A sketch I'm doing to avoid thinking
The future, not necessarily
of staying or going
and yet one must decide sometime


Easy Street Prompt # 29

I'm Glad You Asked.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Gc3RW0NHlg

Go Club Of Greater Central Lincoln -- Cheerleader
Wildsource Pizza Club -- Dustman
Murky Basement Fanciers Of The Great Plains -- Webmaster-in-training
Allies For The Investigation Of Suspicious Colonic Spasms -- Grant Writer
Impossible Body Temperature -- Founding Complaint
Lapsed Meditators Anonymous -- Member In Good Standing
We Believe In Love (WBIL) -- Lesser Evangelist, zero conversions
MMPRPG Wives And Widows -- Correspondence Clerk
The Vast HeadChurch Of Laurie Anderson -- Neophyte

I'm Coming Back

I've been addressing my fears
one by one

I've been making step by step diagrams
in my head
of how I'd kill an animal I meant to eat
or an animal that meant to eat me

So, naturally, the internet
is okay now

accidentally wrote a poem in twitter. more of a pun, really. but so true.

i wonder if i quit taking the pill, would i regain the ability to conceive -- of the existence of good in the world?

ENVERSIONING

my friend challenged me to write a story about a typo. this is more of a stream-of-consciousness prose poem. i gave up a little too quickly.



It can go one of any number of ways. That's the thing about time. That's the thing about things.

You get up in the morning. It's the 21st century. It's dumb like that. Things occur to you like "I'm going to create my day. I'm going to manifest my desires. I'm going to nurture my artist. I'm going to make him express himself. hey Hey Hey Hey." But it never turns out like that. Every day is the same, in its own unique way. Every day you fail to do this thing.

But it could change. It could change right now.

Imagine, for instance, that insterad of sitting here the way you are sitting, halfheartedly vaguely interacting with a page of wordsk and who knows what they mean or whether they're worth your trouble, you are in fact on a great big clippers hip, sailing from this town to that, in a sailor suit and hat. Seriouisly. Other people have better lieves than you, that's what made them great. They didn't dream it, they be'd it.

Inagine, for instance, that instead of sitting here you are running up that road, running up that hill running up that building running up that electrid bill.

You see, you can't even genuinely put yourself in that picture. You're stuck in the hopelessly quotidian lonely little details of your own personality. You know what you're going to do next? You're going to go buy a tub of ice cream and a bag oc cheetos and go watch Project Runway by yourself. You call that romance?

But it could go any number of ways. You're swerving on an attomic level. You're headed towards Dreamtime. You've got potential. You've come a long way, baby.

So make of it what you will. This tissue of lies.

Thus Spake Biggus Dickus

prompt: Write a poem using only words that start with "s" (duh)

and having done so, can't help thinking of that scene in Life Of Brian where they make fun of people with speech impediments.

Surely science swerved

sunday's sermon

somewhere southern.



Superman salvo

sleeps sans shuddering,

so saith sage serpents.



Sudden shame?

Seek several suggestive shapes

subconsciously severed.