It all starts with a whisperseed
Or a fine-ish Line or
A tickled pre-sneeze…
And as I scribe it
slice it
slash black inkblood from the page it tickles me this pre-cursor of verse
Laying dormant & serene in its husk in the pen in the oscillating hair it shows such extreme promise the show
that encore debut
So the mist stirs & rises with velvetted curtains as gradually it…

BOILS! off the dewy pelt of the valleys as the curtain call makes the Earth turn the Sun up so slow like a stiffened un-dimmer switch in a cocktail lounge as it closes for the morning
Yeah morning has broken like so many other sticks under stones – falls over bones – like the poor straining Surface of Seed around Sprout in like dirt on the continent suffering drought until corpulent bloated-black frustrated clouds…

BURST! with a frightening thunderclap thirst for release you can feel the relief as it sneezes out lightning in sheets & fevers : pelts over landscapes upended into portraiture sideways with Parallelitic fine-ness lines slanting slashing rainruling the design of He (or She) the
RainMaker ManBaker ThirstSlaker
A d j u s t – t h e – h o r i z o n t a l – h o l d
Trust the thought that heat gets cold & hot again waves bend & break over beach & try to imitate the grains in their thousands by…

SHATTERING! apart into indenouemerable droplets recklessly reflecting rays & reminiscences which inevitably soak into every winglimb scale feather follicle & leaf until the saturation reaches that point between flipper and foot & as if in retaliation LIFE BURSTS FORTH BOILING & SHATTERING the page to pieces in the Iambic Pentameter penned by the poet the GREAT POET in the wild blue wonder within us all which yearns to be captured but hides instead in head in our dreams in our beds or during…

the DAYDREAMS! while the sun backflips over the zenith and the moon – beats the poets of the generations – slings its syncopated Dervishdance to the tidetune the Grand Nocturnal Rhythm that’s tapped our Souls & whispers seeds of doubt & madhope in the back of this Orb with its satellites of eyes ears nose with its volcanic core of mind erupting mouthmagma with its redhot passions & words & Trash careening towards…

the CRASH! into you and into me and everyone here and all the not-here’s ‘cos this is LIFE not some elaborate fancydressrehearsal, the show goes on everyday which is Anyday & any way you can keep the world turning then keep it for all the Heavens sakes however large or small the slice— its just a god-damned Macaroon! iced with the comfort that though that wicked WorldWarmer winds down – wallowing – westerly it inevitably re-rises, sneezing Eastern euphoria : re-minding me that every single friend I have
is somehow stuck to the globe and astonishingly
Tinged with Genius…



Joined December 2007

  • Artist

Artist's Description

It is a trick of the text that makes this piece seem longer than it is.
Just like life, really.

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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