top of page

To Be Or Not In The Basket

it was exactly when i fell asleep dead like at the party in the tree house in your dreams


multi level no goodbyes and there was the round table by a window with a chair left for


me next to me and we spoke like theives speak like i could ever forget the compass


spinning it was the diamond of the table set for the date when it was i'll never remember


for what is it to be awake if not to know when it is one fell, that apple then, shot the stem


for the leaf like a drifting thought downstream, flows it does like it did back then when it


was and when it shall be, that fawn exploded from one ex-hail, she makes the best potions


lucky for her the second I remembered it walking on clouds full of rage for to rain blood with


crushed dust in the grail of amethyst for to smoking what of it and when was the stone


rolled away, it is the incense that took me away, for the tomahawk, and the limp biskit I woke


my mom up with when she was sleeping in my bed just this morning, and the clowns on the


white mask dancing the black jib like a jabberwocky for the wackiejackied it at the skate rink


said these hands are clean my mind is my knife my entory is entropy my knife removed my


spleen, the question then, is, do you trust your family, where is my knife, where is my life


what was i wearing back then, i was naked in the cave, i was a rainbow spray paint for water


colors running down the back of her friend, she said you looked like you we're on fire


descended deeper into the sand, and I wonder what it is she really saw, I wonder what it is


that deep into history, like a diamond in the basket it crawls, there was a snake back then


there was a serpent, we had a pint with our toes, didnt they twinkle like they did back then


didn't the stars rehearse for our grand arrival, i was laying in the sand, I was the spectre of


a diamond's reflection walking for the footprints left on the surface of the ice laid pond as


the manuscript ignited and the hawk took off running with the courses that turn it back on


open up open wide open widener the binding contract is not so binding at all lest in layers


vest in favor of the complete abandonment of abbadon, his name is Eugenics, he has a first


mark degree in the blasphemy of Bao, there it is again written on the wall, there it is again


the dented soup can, shooting up like a soda thrown for the art of snipers have a scope then


eat a coke friend and share yourself to the spiders, on mars the black cube of Saturn project


protect it the secret from the theif wrapped in the basket for to be shaken not stirred, a knot


in the rope sways dangling the hole makes the tree wimper, whiskey the whisker enter the


boat and set due course toward the wind, round the cornere off the yoga cross still hot from


the steam, return him to me the theif of the gold coin bitten for a bite of the apple spreads


between a message of tv heads throwing footballs in wonderland like dorothy for the wizard


of all, who was the last to turn around before the tin man shows up with a plum for to stick


your thumb and write cursive in backwards ink thats blood in leaves feathers of trees falling


from raining bows trading in the corpses for Nazi Gold training the boots to sing songs


reminding me of the letter written and placed then the crystal with set, the light bulb was


broken, I said to myself, how small do these glasses get, shooting spark strips for starlit


dinners in the pleasure dome, dancing the dance the dancer taught us before throwing


up and setting the stone beneath my shaking leg, just dropped in once on the ramp her


brother made into a half pipe into a half life it was my second try that i fell on my face by


the parking lot it was the stone into the dirt it was the dirt beneath the tree before


the leaves rolled the stoning tones for the hammer and the screw that romantic touch of


the glove that ramble om that staring song of death reversed into a stream, stepping the


stones and walking round a tree for to start up the ink again and believe in something

Recent Posts

See All

The Hourglass

Point A Needle To The Sky, Centered Minds Point A Gun To My Head, Circumstantial Ends Point A : The Diamond Sutra, Centrifical Forces Yet There Are One Thousand Arms Tied Up In The Book Of The Dead An

T E L L M E

never was there such a hand beneath the sin play to the part of the devil's grinning twas there such a death as to it

Comentarios


bottom of page