Fattening, these catastrophes: though
complex metaphors elude my grip, as if
finches on a palpitating underground cable
have yet to eat, and eat they must; you,
my dear, look lovely, even in the backyard
as I sit quietly even softly contemplating
some new way to do everything at once.

You must have seen me there. Weren't you
chilled? A left-handed compliment may not
know what the right hand is doing. But,
back then you told me what you needed:
my dead cold lips. New aim. I'm the one
struggling in the leaves, crushing stars
into my favorite white dust. It's more
like off-white, don't you think?


=====


***************************************************************************

Lewis LaCook

net artist, poet, freelance web developer/programmer

http://www.lewislacook.com/

Stamen Pistol: http://stamenpistol.blogspot.com/

Cell:440.258.9232(Please Text Me!)

Sidereality: http://www.sidereality.com/



tubulence artist studio: http://turbulence.org/studios/lacook/index.html





















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