STILL LIFE

Standing in the bathroom by a porcelain brink
looking crosswise in the mirror over the sink
noticing how far back this reflection goes
hardly anybody left worth a damn even knows
and the rest dropped off what's beginning to look
like a long time ago now and by that I mean already
marked in the pages of this printed out book.

So we bought an old house and entered the game
of war against the mouse of our division and name
buried in a long story that tore through our lives
to say the least at a minimal pace and it thrives
to this day without having to come out and state it
point blank the rift from smooth talking beast
to furry four-pawed friend continues without end
possessing each and every one of us who made it.

To trigger each other's passages as if we're one and all
encoded to be held in thrall swaying to the music
of the alternating staves getting edited genetically
along the superconductive way so that frenetically
everyone of us tailor made to react accordingly
until the long slow choral dance unwittingly reflects
an endless regression of our mirrored family tree.

The centipede walks and twists and talks to itself
and begins to understand this procession while it's
still unfolding off the shelf spitting and winking
to slice and cut like a barbed wire razor positively
humming with electromagnetic power cultivated
by a molecular chain still on the verge of balancing
itself out as we go on the whole wide world tested
in a panic before a mirror in self portrait arrested.

SNAP SHOT

{ for Gregory Alden Davis }


We divide our aspect in a lot of ways
Some of them haven't even been thought up
by the population infesting the world today
but used to be common knowledge millennia ago
others are diffused through the ages by only a fraction
as the fewer among us here so very well know
our mechanical nature swung into action
by the well driven engines manufacturing snow
with all the seasons unwound in a blur behind us
fueled by the dying chorus of a thousand suns
what other reason could there be to explain
this manifestation's for us because we are the ones
who imagine we can see ourselves from afar with alien eyes
without realizing vision itself must set us apart from the rest
defining each other as cells from the host of the skies
shedding a spiral trajectory of sputtering stars
there's only one shadow a singular reflection and we're not it
we are all that's left over after the fuse has burnt out
the impressionist flare fading away into darkness
to bring a concussion of echoes that are no longer a dream
but realized here in the flesh now and for all eternity


                                                           


                                                               


                                                             
                                                                           
                                                                                                                                                    
                                                                 

FISHNET BLANKET

A juxtaposition about
 our one  lonely   sun 

keeps us entranced
in a  dance  around 
each other  chasing

the evenings of our dawns
those dark capes detached
which  carry   away 
our  earliest   dreams

to  dissolve   amid 
the  sparkling   pinpoints 
of  Venus  and  the stars