Entry: Oh no... improv! Monday, May 09, 2005



What is it about those funny-looking clothes
I've never seen before, and what
about that loud brassy voice I can't get
out of my head?

He fuels a memory of him in objects found everyday
to keep that unvoluntary longing still wanting,
as I remember vividly, in its same way.
A conscience keeps clear when away, discussing
what should be avoided, what seems a tragedy.
I won't stop now.  There is no use repressing:

how his head makes hats look better on him than any other.  even my limbs 
In slumber get lonely without warmth of wings' sacrifice to shelter dreams
merged with reality into reconciliation followed by peace then a dance till dawn

when light initially begins to sparkle during oblivion of time, I find peace
in sky blue as a result from a morning begun with bright foreshadows.
Every morning after, in days of his light, I sense him in all while I live,

pouring a glass of water, watching TV from news to comedy,
thinking about politics or science, seeing an American flag,
flowers.  Roses.  Seeing roses by the window, through the window.

Thinking, it's useless.  It's useless.  It's useless just to think.

   1 comments

hastang
May 18, 2005   10:04 PM PDT
 
sparkle during oblivion of time.. cool..

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