Saturday, January 31, 2009

quazi free write (10 minutes, no edit)

Leapord skin bible in biblic phrases screamin halelujah to the masses and cry ou tin the name of chocolate cheeto jesus. Why? Why would i say that I left here to die when I am surrounded by the living flesh of flowers and bread and knights and chivalrous wolves comming together like buzzards over a carrion beef eaters buffet? No reason i can think of. No reason I can ever think of. never comfortable here. Leg, arm, ass, and bad gas.. i guess more uncomfortable than usual- but this monitor always burns and sings of indescresionary love and a history of violence. All access, all the time . We started off as wolves, us men, hairy and farting and running through jungles looking for for people, looking for meat, to burn rape and pillage. I was there, I was born there. The clouds came, the rain came soon after, then the fires, then the dogs. I guess every river floats. Damn your eyes he said to himself. Damn itchy and crudded eyes. What for? Can I navigate this river without them? NAy.. no need to navigate. The leaf will not navigate. It is not a ship full of valiant and horny pillaging crusaders bound for gold and illegitamte children.. it is it's own vessel. Nay leaf. Winds and walurous and hippos and baskets will weave themselves in and out, carrying the hope of a mankind, singular in its ominence. Float float float float. This river is not a sea captain. This rock is not the loch ness monster. This waterfall... it is a waterfall. Tangible and fatemaking and wet. We are not the type to float.. but to swim and cry and howl like a baby in a snowman. We are wolves in a leaf's clothing. Left to die, left to kill and masturbate into equally abissmal entities. Float float float. I am a ghost. Float float float. I was once your astronought.. bold and shiny with the purity of science, exploration, and discovery.. but I floated to far, melted wings and a record playing country songs of a different and altogether similar era.

1 comment:

lindsey*jane said...

makes me want to go float on a leaf

away away away from history and it's stupid happennings, away from ideas that don't reach these sense and the distance created therin

closer, perhaps, to an imaginary prose that begins and ends with fresh flowers and bread.