Iram-et-Dolorem

Wand'ring, shifting; moving through Endless skies of azure hue, I come not far though distant Place, the home of my descent, Be e'er lost to mortal eye. Sword and shield and bloodless cold, Through the endless years unfolds A time of war, endless strife, From dawn through dusk, and dark night, Peace e'er lost to mortal eye. Wand'ring, shifting; strings of Fate Played with skill, ne'er to abate The flood, the crush of pendant Souls; fly to hell on currents And e'er lost to mortal eye. Sword and shield and mar-less skin Secrets others from within, To keep them safe, and safe keep Them from product of the deep Though e'er lost

I   Don't      Owe         You            Jack               Shit. You weren't here when I made this   You won't be here when I revise You can't crack open my head      Like an egg         And peer at my design      Like a dictionary         And look up my meaning. You're digging a hole. You cannot escape   And as soon as you've gone too far      When there's no climbing out I'm just going to shove the earth back over you   And you'll be just as in the dark      As when you started. You can't find light under ground   Under stone. You're shoveling through shit at night   Too blind and desparate to look u

Velvet ripples engulf    Expand and contract Heaving alabaster presses firm    Expanding and contracting       Against a rigid brace of finely carved oak. Ten chissels all at once scrape down    The front       Of an otherwise unyielding surface          Clenching board and barrel       Expand and contract          Curling toes instead of shavings             Spreading away from two pillars          Not her own. Vices grip the full, beautiful curves    Of her impressive machine.    Steel cables draw tight       Contracting    Hydraulics drive the pistons       Expanding. Brakes scream and squeal    As she veers out of cont

Drenched    Dripping Water defies gravity    It falls and slides    North, South, East, West. An umbrella is a sign of futility    When rain pours horizontally. A thought occurs to me    Between puffs of smoke    Drawn from a skillfully lit cigarette    Pursed between weary lips       That it might be stupid          Unequivocally so       To walk a mile in the rain for a cup of coffee. Especially in December. I have coffee and tea at home    Which would suffice    If not for this sudden urge for a vanilla latte. I could have settled    Skipped the trip and spared the hassle       Just like I could drop her          She,