maybe it would be in the wind chiseled afternoon,
or the dusk by tables because I want to think of tables,
of how they would catch the departing light
you navigate the earth so well; you would swing your hip,
we would kick Saturn out of the sky with hardly an effort,
but it wasn't to be and the nightmare continues
tell your children to view lots of television and read rag magazines,
tell them to keep their hair neat,
to go to church with the monotheistic set,
tell them to observe both norms and the newspapers,
to watch plenty of sports,
while lauding their favorite team with the other millions of morons
instruct them to brush for a full two minutes,
and rinse thoroughly,
in order to get out anything untoward
yes, tell them to stay with situation comedies and grade point averages,
to remain acutely aware of the regular rubric,
to run in circles with other mediocre minds,
make clear that nobody arrives past the edge of witching hours
wearing miracles,
or with love in their pockets
state plainly that such odd terrains are not romantic,
or fruitful or lyrical,
making clear that hours without light are not really for them
but most of all tell em' to stay away from the abyss,
explaining carefully that nobody comes dressed w/autumnal hued skirts,
summer denim,
or new white blouses
1
fav |
1071 views
1 comment |
268 words
All rights reserved. |
The author has not attached a note to this story.
This story has no tags.
Remarkable piece, Michael. Great images and music.