Category: creative writing

words to walk with

of late and without hate
a date to contemplate
let your mind create
unwind from the deterioration of your excuses

don’t catch whispers of spies
and double marmalade pies
extend and mend
to defend your beating breathless heart

evoke and choke
your essence
you quit making sense
now re-situate your mentality and debate

your existence
and minds subsistence
of a regurgitated forgotten sense
your skin has gone dense

http://www.flickr.com/photos/eichg/

an ode to yesterday’s sunset

forgotten and foretold
bold and ill and rotten
evoking an anguish beyond the horizon.

a lion awakes to fall and forget
into a drunken stupor
of idiot resentment.

blood stained tears ill-begotten on building’s walls in downtown los angeles.

Here, everything is for sale, there is no tag, there is no yard. It’s more of a concrete complete with heavy cream.

I’m deep into the part about almafitano. from bolano’s 2666. It’s about as sweet as any album from bon iver.

Georgian vs. colors

Something about the Berkshires that always draws me back to muse on it’s nature. Not just the fresh air and the abundance of trees and animals. It’s also the colors. Simply, put year-round its colors are as varied and spectacular as any place I’ve ever lived in over a prolonged period of time. This picture in particular gives me a sense of amazement, and not just for the streaking colors of blue in the sky, but in the variance of colors from the grass and the trees. Also, this court house holds a special and monumental moment in my life.

The Georgian architecture is everwhere in the Berkshires and Great Barrington’s town hall is no exception.

poetree | blue bricks

blue bricks and sweet kicks
dawned frozen chosen sunrises
wrinkled dreams of a past elusive
distance is our friend and time is our destiny
let our minds awake free
thawed from ice
to awaken to the colors of trees and streams
stones and birds nestled into corners of earthen brownstone

further down the line the paddler discovers the current
and its sway is that of magnetic forces destined to determine
any landing.

red bricks and savory licks of my face
are the remnants of years past away.

On another note, I’m going to finish Roberto Bolano’s The Savage Detectives this month.