Sunday, January 21, 2018


I pull the bulky flow of thoughts around my shoulders, skin flickering at the shards of belief which scrape across the sensitive expanse of angst.  Time shivers in the cool embrace of past experiences and the multi-coloured patchwork of broken promises and shattered dreams.

Time is much in my thoughts these days... the inevitable passage of its reality.  I watch from the narrow end of a telescope and see behind me the expanse of was going to do and one day's that litter the fractured path of my life.  Excuses, justifications and lost possibilities brighten the patchwork of fabric, and I feel a poignant sadness as my fingers feel for the closed reality of their former promise.  I lie back, pulling the quilt around my body, a slice of blade caught in the weaving cuts and bright blood trickles from the soft expanse of flesh.

I am surrounded, the me, the soul, id, the existential core of self that lies enveloped in smothering blankets of excess flesh and wonders how I was caught yet again.  I look out from the pads of smothering revulsion and feel trapped, caught in a body I don't recognize nor wish to claim.  That little mark..... the small blackness trapped in the blue-veined breast pulses and sends a soothing promise of nullity and cessation of pain.  

Like a callus, I rub my shoulder against the shard of promise and revel in the clear, bright reality of pain it brings, illuminating for a moment the greyness of an existence lost in idle speculation and lack of will.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Whither wander....

It sits, nestled deep within the surround of pale blue arteries, snaking outward through the expanse of pale red muscle and white tendon, a small darkness I sense there deep beneath the surface.  A pale of smoke which amorphous and innocuous sighs and bleeds outward.  Look closely and  the lines you think delineated and sharp bleed soft into the surround of flesh... reaching, like a flower in delayed motion, you breathe out, and in and the small darkness sighs and expands.

I open the mirror and the sun spills through the large doors, beyond which the forest grows and the creek beneath a thin, crackling layer of ice sighs past the house.  My eyes, like the ocean surface bleed colour from the sky and shift in waves of possibilities and melding of tint from palest green to darkest forest gray...

Behind my changeling eyes I feel myself as if a sideways glance (because direct will obliterate the true reality), that flash at the corner of your vision.... I breathe out.  I always felt most real when the flesh lay taut over the bones, when pale expanse of skin blinked shadow and shade as it followed the contour of muscle and tendon.  I felt myself then behind the flesh, almost free, and loved to look down the expanse of gross flesh and see the clarity of bone, the sharp jut of hip, the concave of belly and the long bones of thigh and calf with the sharpness of knee providing breathless contrast to their sweep of pale length.

Now, encased and imprisoned in gross flesh, I sit shivering beneath the surface, crouched behind my prison of broken vows and the reality of monotony and despair.  I whisper to the darkness I sense deep within and coax it with promises and seduce it with possibilities of sweet air and freedom.  I cup if gently in my mind, butterfly caresses, whisper of soft papery wings across its throbbing pale dark coolness, breathing softly, encouraging and coaxing....

Beyond the window, the squirrel rummages in the disordered churned snow of the deck, seeking sustenance and hope.  Simplicity personified in the bushy tail and busy prehensile fingers as they dig through the snow for discarded seed and peanut shells. 

I sit and raise the mirror yet again and watch the colour bleed from my eyes as the sky thickens and snow clouds roil and over the pristine landscape greyness descends.... and deep within I feel the thrumming of my small dark and smile.  I wonder at the needless complexity and confusion of the human beast and watch the squirrel do what he needs to survive.