Saturday, January 8, 2011

flourescent gore.

poetry is a habit of mine that fluctuates in its frequency. typically it comes when i've a few minutes to spare or my mind is wandering. because of this, bedside scraps of paper and math notebooks tend to attract a lot of it. 

i think i'm going to start posting some of it from time to time (starting with this post) to help keep them somewhere that isn't as readily lost or thrown away. also, it may help flesh out the blog with some more regular posts. or perhaps just flood it with garbage. but if i was afraid of posting garbage, i wouldn't both posting anymore. 


in less than a minute you will change--
color soon will rearrange
from the red shapes on black i saw before
and again you'll adjust in a minute more. 
electric black and florescent gore,
the devil's cattle on on a midnight range.
    yes, you've no hands to tell of time.
    you need them not, small clock of mine. 

bean of light

kidney bean on my wall,
what's your point in being?
have you a goal you're chasing?

have you a fear you're fleeing?
or is fate with you agreeing
and softening you with good intentions?
or do i label you with my own fears and contentions?
you're likely just another false projection i am seeing.
     i confess, the latter smacks more true,
     but i feel less concern for me than you.

p.s.--a quick note: though i love poetry, i've never been able to take it very seriously. feel free to read anything you like into this stuff, but know that what i put into it is of consistently shallow substance.

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