Shea Cornelius, please meet your party at the information booth

 
It sounds like hooves.
It sounds like they've been prodded into action by some invisible electrical pulse.
But I can feel it, staining the air around me like spilled coffee.
And I can see its aftermath, whims blurred in gentle pallor, colored like the inside of the Lincoln Tunnel.
And I stand and watch it whisper by, if only because I hope it will serve as a trail to my destination.

And the intercoms blurt my name in sudden, accidental ecstasy, like they've been waiting for years to help me find my way.

But it's no use, because my way has never been mine.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Neko Case, Deep Red Bells

Wheels

 

The spirals blurred
and whacked weeds
sown
out of necessity,
brain crops
in photo-editing software
overpriced
and wildly
underutilized
before 2 pm,
when it's
tea time and
the crowds gather and
rush
inside to escape the
automatic sky
firing hailstones,
layers of color
lost
between smiling faces
and cotton
stretched thick over the
tops of clouds,
hiding little
but leaving everything to
the imagination.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Paul Simon, Graceland

Practice

 
All I could smell was leather. All I could see was what I could have prevented but didn't. All I felt was the slickness trickling from my bottom lip. What took a moment to feel needed only a second to register. My team heard the pain before I felt it.
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Some more Quick Links, because I like to keep you busy:

A piece by Pete Richter up on his blog, Atlantic Refreshment, that I think is quite brilliant.

xTx brings us the latest installment of Zombie Summer, a great poem by Mike Boyle.

Andrew Kaspereen proves that our obsession with Journey ruins great moments.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
The Roots (feat. Mos Def and Styles P), Rising Down

Parade day rain

 
The purplish sunset bleeds gray
Wired to blow
At the slightest touch of our
Beloved watchmaker

Then the rain falls
Each drop
Distinctly New York City colored
And tethered to the flood

Then the tide rolls in
Sweeps down fifth ave
Men watch until
They're forced to skitter to cover

Then they pile on
Ships bound for the heavens
It's been called off
But I'd rather feel the earth
Beneath my feet
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Kayne (feat. Kweli and Common), Get Em High