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Iron twists, brown dullness rust multiplies and weakens sounds, smells, touch of a city below my feet vibration. Rock and glass people smiling, frowning, running a fountain turned off for the winter and birds invade the caverns of the damned. Sunken eyes and sacred smiles the salt air and poison water. Intrigue at the exotic repulsion at the sameness regiment, routine, a clock strikes one and one again to infinity. A black case and a gun a shining blade or baseball bat. A loud wail, flashing lights someone over there just died. A tear, a drop of blood a used condom on the sidewalk. Neon electricity buzzes as a bum yells for god. (he says It will all fall down into the center from which it was born.) It is at once fascinating and repulsive; scary, vile. It compels and welcomes with dirt beneath its fingernails and a dusty handprint on your back after it hugs and says welcome. You are marked for life, branded by the twentieth century. |
I've had it for years and it follows wherever I go. Some days it's strong and sharp in its darkness, other days I struggle to see it and fear it is gone. It moves around me, sometimes in front sometimes behind. Leading, following, maybe just beside, but absent of a shoulder to lean on. Its silence provides a voice sublime and as it slips over a paved sidewalk, the Not sound, divine in nature, calls up to heaven. I've watched it change for years, bigger and wiser, taller wider small and large, through happy sad, a constant friend. It's life has been long, as long as mine, it wears its age and experience with grace and dignity, not a wrinkle to be found on the strong brow of my silent companion. When I sleep, it has an honored position below me, alone I watch it stretch along the wall, a whole or part, a projection; the outside of my soul. Should I become blind and never see it again, I think I would miss its simple pleasure; a reminder of the sun, the moon, and the electric power of man. When I die I will take this thing that is mine and mine alone, to the grave never to be seen again, and I will mourn its passing at the moment when others mourn mine. For now, I will choose to sit alone beside the sun, and spin in circles below the moon, wonderful mortality I worship the light and dark. |
Seemingly elegant whenever near, a high high note oh a mystery to one to all whenever the door creaks or there's a knock on the floor perhaps I'll remember to look, look behind the shadow cast by a moon a red body of terran ecstasy containing an old friend or a friend no more who waves and follows in the tail of forlorn regrets and a life of lonely solitude condemned for life to wanting time to straighten again to love to move with the seeming elegance of another lifetime. |
[Cover | Surroundings | Creativity | Darkness | Life | Nature | Love | Peace | Epilogue]
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