TheFeatheredSleep – Permanence – Impermanence
In the afterlife
There is always something to do
pick up the leaning umbrella before it hits the window, leaving
a tell tale smudge
clutter. Le désordre
le bruit,le fatras,
a maniac for the mind seeking calm
in Upton’s Jungle where only heat bakes
rocks inedible
cushions flattened by visitations, last nights vestige
reminds me of when the bad boy dropped me off at my house and I ran
whippet thin and full of bile through tall yellow grass before sun was up
thinking if I could get inside, wash every molecule off, it wouldn’t be real
for what is real? Who is alive and who is not?
Was it real that you gave birth to me? Or did I come out from your forehead
like Athena without guile, just seeking, the end of the puzzle
wet with embryonic writhe
a dot representing the center, a square…
View original post 359 more words
cabbagesandkings524 