IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
no note reprizes range
no hope will offer ease
when time is all of change!
I would die to let others live
I live to see an answer
I cannot know of doom
while I am looking for it
so may time, perhaps should retire
and let the buds gleam for a new spring
Even oblivion for hope
until our worlds collide�
Where did I read of a journey as poignant as pain?
death may be the ultimate bliss, but bliss is
utter desolation�
There a shadow stalks its master
No victory at nechomachy
A day, no more, I gave her one
a poem dark and hiding none.
A day has passed, her smile is past
to dark words what laughter lasts?
To see a girl, a slender girl on the edge of one�s vision, along a path, perhaps, swinging her arms. Then to see the skinny girl raise her hand�one can�t see her clearly; she is becoming clearer�raise her hand, and suckle a tube of laced ash; that, that is death.
(I say weakly, fearfully)
There are breadmolds and tidbits of rat pilings in every crevice of the dank meander. Step lightly and fear not the sludge that words transform. Is not the rag that wipes the shoe more dirty than the shoe itself? So our words are carriers of the vilest things imagined; proliferations of particular insidious organisms, strange molds, and quick creatures that frighten and skitter into hiding, only to reappear when least convenient.
a crown of thorns is woven
into a shaded nook for crows.
And as the hours tap deafly
we lose the thistles of the field
in the tainted threads of worry
Frame a frame that has a pink wall behind it, and yours is really white. And leave the light licking it, until it wickers into a knavy paste, all flickery and ghoulish. Until it is a dry pallor, as of salt in the base of a pan, water boiled into the far corners, where the lights don�t disturb their second migration. Here is the false and the gritty. Staring faceless from several clear points; blank, bland, cash in the bank. No need to make mistakes.
Images, page 1 Miscellania Main
The preceding is pending copyright (c) 2006 Nathan Coppedge.