Trapped in a Lamb Pasture
The whole world seems mysteriously cranky and illusive, distant, motorized, metal on metal, urgent and detached.
The quaint mistakes of delayed decisions, the thoughts that have become thoughtless, mealy, gangrenous, maybe.
Hand paddles, tingling hands--swimming in a world of water--wanting to swim all the way to work.
Cherry-picking my favorite mortals.
Look at it this way: I'll always have you to talk about.
She was even enthusiastic about being depressed.
Daydreaming near your machines.
Who let go of you?
Some kind of edible instance of memory, yo.
As I tried to turn the nut, the pliers went mushy.
That's what they get: strong features.
The world's most beautiful people are starting to care, a lot.
Something I say to myself: I'm only here for the time being.
Here's where sleep doesn't come home with a big grin.
A dog barked at me as I reached for a box of shoes--that said--I felt the need to touch a woman's shoulder and say "oh my God that scared me."
There are some people that you will remember as being clearheaded and uncomplicated while you will recall others as being perched on the lip of utter chaos--with their hands outstretched--reaching for the neck of your shirt before they dive in.
Smooth black morning--the small comfort of a desk, a chair, a cup of coffee in a favorite mug and a new pen.
Not being certain if things I see on my body are real or not--until I see photographs there's no real way of knowing--and yet, even then, there is a sense of doubt that envelops me as I look at what appears to be another body in a photograph. That's very troubling to me.
I manage a retail store.
I think what might be needed is the small of my back with some rain slicked evening--screened in porches, glazed, the portico and slow machines oozing by.
Words meaning so little at certain times--like trying to make too little air go around. Too little air makes the head light up.
I'll always have you--I said.
A couple showed me some photographs of gorillas on their cell phone. Close-ups of enormous gorillas. "Wow, those are big gorillas," I said.
Butter is moving into jelly.
These are the tokens that allow me into yesterday and tomorrow.
The quaint mistakes of delayed decisions, the thoughts that have become thoughtless, mealy, gangrenous, maybe.
Hand paddles, tingling hands--swimming in a world of water--wanting to swim all the way to work.
Cherry-picking my favorite mortals.
Look at it this way: I'll always have you to talk about.
She was even enthusiastic about being depressed.
Daydreaming near your machines.
Who let go of you?
Some kind of edible instance of memory, yo.
As I tried to turn the nut, the pliers went mushy.
That's what they get: strong features.
The world's most beautiful people are starting to care, a lot.
Something I say to myself: I'm only here for the time being.
Here's where sleep doesn't come home with a big grin.
A dog barked at me as I reached for a box of shoes--that said--I felt the need to touch a woman's shoulder and say "oh my God that scared me."
There are some people that you will remember as being clearheaded and uncomplicated while you will recall others as being perched on the lip of utter chaos--with their hands outstretched--reaching for the neck of your shirt before they dive in.
Smooth black morning--the small comfort of a desk, a chair, a cup of coffee in a favorite mug and a new pen.
Not being certain if things I see on my body are real or not--until I see photographs there's no real way of knowing--and yet, even then, there is a sense of doubt that envelops me as I look at what appears to be another body in a photograph. That's very troubling to me.
I manage a retail store.
I think what might be needed is the small of my back with some rain slicked evening--screened in porches, glazed, the portico and slow machines oozing by.
Words meaning so little at certain times--like trying to make too little air go around. Too little air makes the head light up.
I'll always have you--I said.
A couple showed me some photographs of gorillas on their cell phone. Close-ups of enormous gorillas. "Wow, those are big gorillas," I said.
Butter is moving into jelly.
These are the tokens that allow me into yesterday and tomorrow.
posted by Todd Colby at 8:32 AM
1 Comments:
i agree with your dad
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