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nothing and everything

loneliness is a vagrant we pass by. all dust and rumbling engine and crackling bass distraction. invisible, peripheral. best left unmentioned. like the way we are in love as a pillar of ashes that one breath would render atmosphere.

so we close.

wait for endosperm to wake embryo.

the dreaded void we fill with vibrating steel string and entangling smoke and hours by the mirror wondering who.

so we wander to the gathering places to find our selves in their turned away face. and the stranger's pollock looks with his ballpoint poetry and his nineteenth century boots strapped neatly round narrow ankle that i envy and reach quietly out to touch with blue paintbrush.

so what have you done? wrench the air of my next morning living room with its skipping record antics - fire ants prickle with doubt and momentary relapse of confidence.

i don't know.

but we have to laugh at times like these and turn back the tides of punishment on the ignorant destroyers.

i have done everything. and nothing.

i am. who are you?

2:35 p.m. - 2005-05-29
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