RemainsIn my perfect, flawless, selfish world, Your eyes would fade to grey. Your skin would luster slate by night And bitumen by day.Remains
In my perfect, flawless, selfish world, You'd cease to smile or speak; Your mouth would neither conjure words Nor stretch from cheek to cheek.
In my perfect, flawless, selfish world, Your limbs would freeze in place; You'd stiffen straight, forget your feet, Lie still in my embrace.
In my perfect, flawless, selfish world, Your body would lie flat, A cutout of your former self And monochrome, at that. &
AnchorAll ships, take note: My anchor floats.Anchor
My iron kedge bobs on its edge, Stands tall atop the sea, And bears its chain quite regally As though not chained but free.
When pulled to port, our stay is short, Just long enough to mock The curious, eccentric flock That sails beside the dock.
And should some other buoyant kedge Dare flaunt its floating flair, My anchor pulls ahead, and then It floats upon the air.
All ships, take note: My anchor floats.
FramesMy bike is a vintage 1973 Raleigh handed down to me by my father. The steel frame I use to bike those forty miles to and from class every day is the same one he used on his campus, way back in the Bronze Age. Sure, I've replaced the brakes, the shifters, the chain, the pedals, the wheels, and about half the rider, but the core of the thing is unchanged.Frames
It's only natural, then, that I was replacing the brake cable when I discovered them. I'd been inserting a Dremel bit to cut some sheathe when I thought to wear eye protection, and what should I find when rifling through the mess called my father's
Casting OffI am strongly considering knitting in my discussion section for American history. Thirteen minutes into class, our TA has yet to arrive, and some twenty of us are quietly pretending not to notice the first two students to leave. I want to fill this boredom, to at least justify the time with some accomplishment--a few rows of stitches, say--but I know my classmates (two more have just left) would find it conspicuous enough to make conversation, and, as I'm seated in the front row, our TA, should he or she arrive, would probably feel the same. I have all the tools for the job, waiting, calling me from the interiCasting Off
The Big Game HuntI call I don't know why but it stops me shaking for a little whileThe Big Game Hunt
There's no answer. A sentimental computer asks me if I have something to say in dulcet feminine blocks
There is a tone. I leave an apology for things i have already said and say things I will soon
have to apologise for.
grief climaxes.
The wait resumes.
Starbuck
Mind of a MadmanMind of a Madman Guy ThomasMind of a Madman
No doubt you will not take this seriously, coming from the mind of a madman, and no doubt the Arkham Asylum stamp on the paper is of no help. But I assure myself that there is someone out there who will. Just as I assure myself that I’m not mad. And as I assure myself that someone knows as much as I do. What do I know? I know things beyond the ken of man. I know things that prove we have got everything concerning a Christian God all wrong. I know things that have brought lesser men to depression and suicide. I know
Today was an unfortunate reminder . . .
Disbelief
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I Rock ~Error732's Descriptive World
"Whatever drowns your dead body!"
Get Framed! ~bkcustomframing
In history artists strived to replicate things in nature or to express things of the imagination. As an artist my primary goal is vengence.
--
I Rock ~Error732's Descriptive World
"Whatever drowns your dead body!"
Get Framed! ~bkcustomframing
In history artists strived to replicate things in nature or to express things of the imagination. As an artist my primary goal is vengence.
--
I Rock ~Error732's Descriptive World
"Whatever drowns your dead body!"
Get Framed! ~bkcustomframing
In history artists strived to replicate things in nature or to express things of the imagination. As an artist my primary goal is vengence.
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