Brand "X" , and ACME, poems and stories. Surreal, sappy, funny, horrific, and human.
Having come from the seas of your storms and decades of disquiet, I step, directionless, on an unmoving Earth. Being tooled for havoc, I despair of knowing what might fill this brazen peace, this wild surcease. [Art: The Ship, by Salvador Dali]
Do not speak of it. Do not see me. Give what you have to give, willing or no, and don't mind the scars. The remnants of your gown, oft removed, keep us coming back for more. But, in time, you will womb a tree that reaches to Heaven. *** [Art by Zdzislaw Beksinski]
Some thingsmake eyes deadas a great white's,the soul a yawning mawseeking the holy.Swimming long and long. *** Art by https://www.instagram.com/zxc.style/
Mister whiskers, curled up in dream. You, in the faded recliner, the motors of your snore like a cheetah's purr. The TV on mute in blue aquarium light. Outside the window, a borealis of feathering snow. And I, in a sated sigh, put my feet up too. We go gently into that goodnight.
“I have a hunger” - Those words,spoken in a formal manner,were as stillborn, as heavy as a stonecradled in an apron.And, what does one do with this thing you’ve said-you, who were always the comic,furthest from the dead.Taken aback,in slow shock I cup your hand-not leading you to bed,but into nightfall’s garden.We sup on the... Continue Reading →
In a moldering dream, I fitted a woolen sock over the stump of my leg. The two middle fingers of each hand were missing, the knuckles paper-skinned. A presence studied my learned motions and nodded its approval. ~Now you will stay~ ~Now you have learned~ *** image credit: https://pixabay.com/users/mysticsartdesign-322497/
I think of what the skin holds in, what's in the bone, alone. The finds of the fingers that linger. What's unsaid beneath the teeth. *** photo credit: https://openchurch.com/free-download/photo-of-womans-face-in-shadows-1004047/
and this day has a nevermind feel the soulful king is full of regret~hands off~ he knowswatch those whispersfor they betray the teabag tumblesin morning mumblesdo not touch the lingering cathe's spiny he's moonyhe knows, too this boat floats with just a whistle *** [Image: https://pixabay.com/users/dpexcel-5262680/ ]
Everything gets thin Faulty ice on which we stand; the shields of the heart.
A tongue that tastes too wellA throat that thirsts for the whole bath Ears, unstoppered, gate-crashed and ringing,aghast at the brazen yarns Saucer-eyed at the secret shows Heart-throbbed at the wholeness of Om and mute-voiced in prayerful listen [Art by Jamie Heiden]
AreMyFeetOffTheGround 