"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Sunday, April 15, 2012


Day 15: Not much feeling the parody prompt today, so I did something else.

We can suffocate the abstract,
dance concentric circles around the truth
and bury our embattled vigor,
but until our eyes can draw blood,
you may as well count us out.

The bitter family is brimming, now,
stranded on the outrigger as sharks unravel.

Then we'll find a new shade of black,
trapped in a wooden frame, embellished,
while the red mist pillows outward
and tugs our sight away,
back to the cold case, the unsolved.

The bitter family is swimming, now,
cast away to the black sea and forgotten.

At home there will be a finer touch,
songs lifted from the old books,
a finely woven chorus of anthills
sewn together in a rickety loop
and cast around our reddened necks.

The bitter family is dimming, now,
dusk settles on their backs and they're


Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Tame Impala, I Don't Really Mind

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