choosing your name
the dredge wears you down
dig it back through the earth
the clock dragged through the soil
no face purely its own
blueprint
original?
how far back for that?
the wild mother scrapes the cave
children with grown up hands
looking for origins
wrinkled eyes
grasping at the newest flesh
super market baby
divinely robbed
placed on the couch
the new girl tires of the old man
a young one wouldn't treat her to so many gifts
or love her enough to shoot her in the back
and your revolution
must it be staggeringly new?
write the expected outcome
refuse them their malleable natures
the water taking more earth
the costumes growing tighter
authenticity called into question
the celebrity scandal cleaner than one thought
and therefore tainted
for the girl in the fire is not enough to take notice of
revolutions are remembered
they ride out on fireworks
but enough ale shows the empire in its future rags
and long before that, there was a prophet
fire smoke burning matters of time
glazed violence
savage as a strict geographical trait
and pigment has something to do with it as well
and you're starting to forget
the reason
that you
started(?)
draw your axis on the void
spin the chances into spiral stairs
don't lose your eyes in the reflections
the superstitious believe
and the profane believe not to
and now?
the real now?
the time that no other time seeps into
cracks in the windows sealed
the days before not seething inside you
that time
do you know this time?
dredge the ashes from the fireplace
reassemble them
try to make them what they were
before the matter broke
down
into all the other author's opinions
through your two way mirror
with your lust for accolades
claim the revolution
deny them the flexibility
inherent in their fingers
saving the calendar
forgetting what it felt like in your hands
at the time
attractive nonetheless
never wanting to fall asleep slowly
time without action loses its axis
and the images drown as they try to prove
that it is their right now
again
more important than today
than laying your head down
and savoring the texture
of the sheets
now feeling too tight across your toes
the old days stronger than when they happened
happened being finite
events being finite
never bleeding into what is
REALLY GOING ON RIGHT NOW
texture
texture is now
-------------
propulsion in the realm of the infinite
-------------
reflections of self
-------------
back through the soil
clutch at the substance
make your case for history
excavate the division
and hone it
to precision
too much weight on the structure
direction
falls
the retreat is the flood
we want to believe that the world arrived with us
our bones have come floating through various oceans