(no subject)
kid, parked
oh child of mine
your hair belongs to the wind
your toe to concentric circles
in swarowski lakes
your cheeks, to caresses of rain drops
your dark eyes should reflect
sparkles on indigo skies
and the smile,
your vague smile,
should fly over rainbows
oh child of mine
captured before birth
parked on asphalt
green glow of black device
on your sweet forehead
how will I pass on to you
the vast inheritance?
Life was not enough
I had to expand until
I became rain
Love wasn't enough
I had to erupt
Into butterflies
I had to be spring
to dissipate into blue
I had to be broken mirror
to scream to scream to scream
.... life was not enough
I had to be blue
to dissipate into spring
I had to mirror
I had to rain
I had to butterfly
Venetian
You,
wind gondola
My skin,
Venetian waters
listening
to your trailing
fingertips.
We dissolve
inverted
In flowing sky
Falling in love
as runaway
cognitive bias.
white noise valkyries
like demented cherubs
slain indiscriminately
in pitch darkness
Deadly miscalculation,
Convincing proof of fallacy
of this damaged
fragmented
human
My emotional landscape
Is Escherian
Iconic ladders twist straight
hallways excite with trapdoors and obscure passages
stairways unwind cutting through sparkly dark salt undergrounds
Leading deeply into the moth tickled throat of a yawning Narnian wardrobe
yes that's right
my emotional landscape
is a Freudian amusement park.
I perceive a wink of approval
between the lines of a D.H. Lawrence novel
In Merimee's Carmen serenaded by cobblestone and heels
And in the muffled voice of Nabokov's crystal Lolita
Somewhere
Through an ornate doorway
The sedated smoke of sheeshas
is choreographed
in arabesque calligraphy.
Beyond, a cavernous space unfurls into being.
On ivory background mute assistants
offer enlongated vertical streams of steaming sweet mint tea
and deaf carpet salesmen drive a hard bargain.
A missed step, and somehow
at my feet unfolds a steppe
and here, discarded pop culture references
Weary of the televised tension of their existence
dodge cowboy tumbleweeds
and shred linear logic
I rush out the door
The suspended, inexplicable door
And find myself in a desert
my emotional landscape
is fraught with quicksand caves leading
deeply into
hypnotically into subterranean lakes of liquid lead
From where I do not know
How I escaped
That one time.
My emotional landscape
Is a labyrinthinean Carpathian forest
alternately enamoured of its storytale self
and gnarled of fear
And you?
my fool in shinning armour!
Your frail parchment map
inversely cautions you in vain
to unadventure.
- escherily yours
oh child of mine
your hair belongs to the wind
your toe to concentric circles
in swarowski lakes
your cheeks, to caresses of rain drops
your dark eyes should reflect
sparkles on indigo skies
and the smile,
your vague smile,
should fly over rainbows
oh child of mine
captured before birth
parked on asphalt
green glow of black device
on your sweet forehead
how will I pass on to you
the vast inheritance?
Life was not enough
I had to expand until
I became rain
Love wasn't enough
I had to erupt
Into butterflies
I had to be spring
to dissipate into blue
I had to be broken mirror
to scream to scream to scream
.... life was not enough
I had to be blue
to dissipate into spring
I had to mirror
I had to rain
I had to butterfly
Venetian
You,
wind gondola
My skin,
Venetian waters
listening
to your trailing
fingertips.
We dissolve
inverted
In flowing sky
Falling in love
as runaway
cognitive bias.
white noise valkyries
like demented cherubs
slain indiscriminately
in pitch darkness
Deadly miscalculation,
Convincing proof of fallacy
of this damaged
fragmented
human
My emotional landscape
Is Escherian
Iconic ladders twist straight
hallways excite with trapdoors and obscure passages
stairways unwind cutting through sparkly dark salt undergrounds
Leading deeply into the moth tickled throat of a yawning Narnian wardrobe
yes that's right
my emotional landscape
is a Freudian amusement park.
I perceive a wink of approval
between the lines of a D.H. Lawrence novel
In Merimee's Carmen serenaded by cobblestone and heels
And in the muffled voice of Nabokov's crystal Lolita
Somewhere
Through an ornate doorway
The sedated smoke of sheeshas
is choreographed
in arabesque calligraphy.
Beyond, a cavernous space unfurls into being.
On ivory background mute assistants
offer enlongated vertical streams of steaming sweet mint tea
and deaf carpet salesmen drive a hard bargain.
A missed step, and somehow
at my feet unfolds a steppe
and here, discarded pop culture references
Weary of the televised tension of their existence
dodge cowboy tumbleweeds
and shred linear logic
I rush out the door
The suspended, inexplicable door
And find myself in a desert
my emotional landscape
is fraught with quicksand caves leading
deeply into
hypnotically into subterranean lakes of liquid lead
From where I do not know
How I escaped
That one time.
My emotional landscape
Is a labyrinthinean Carpathian forest
alternately enamoured of its storytale self
and gnarled of fear
And you?
my fool in shinning armour!
Your frail parchment map
inversely cautions you in vain
to unadventure.
- escherily yours