Sunday, June 28, 2015

Post the unlikeable, the failures, and all the pathos that overfillls silence.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

What It Was

Being awake is so very unlike sleep, this constancy of faces, warm pressures, open streets, and insistent calls for attention wear me down each day. Each day my effort is for a silence and solitude in this constant intercourse that I walk into. In the day I operate on versions of programs I’ve written, that secure, propel, and insulate me from the masks that folk don each day. I can wonder tonight who was it that I talked to, what they meant by; and dream how they are. But, today I have little time to pause, and ask the why, and what it was; there is more to be done. 

Sunday, May 10, 2015

to whatever appears

sore from typing and mousing, all night

tunnel vision, after a session 

building, planning, war

enfolded in

to whatever appears 

in reverie

uniformed bodies

synced to motivations 

from the bedrock

gathered, precious little objects of anxiety

sorted out and disheveled continuously

sometimes an ache

throws me to a frantic pace

and I actually sweat

sometimes nothing

only a silence that I can savour

for a few moments in the morning

Tuesday, February 03, 2015

I reason that

because monuments slowly dissolve,

a catastrophe is a evil boon

which we don't want to,

but do hope for.
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