I am dead.
I watch as my friends in a strange white walled building, the world, mourn me.
I see my beloved, though she is unaware, mourn me. I see tears for me, I hear wails for me. I see coworkers gather around her to comfort.
I wander in and out of places, people seeing… [Continue Reading]
Friday, April 2nd, 2004
Dream Of Reunition With My Admiree
Saturday, March 20th, 2004
I, the Loman
I am the clay salesman,
Running from the kiln,
Smearing my expressions to suit the sale.
And the smiles of others become the fire downwind,
Keeping me aloof,
Pushing me in the direction of the clouds.
Green velvet slippers are beside my bed as I sleep,
Waiting for my soles.
But I cannot wake,
For my deformity, conformity, uniformity –
They do not fit into my slippers.
They are not my size.
I am the… [Continue Reading]
Posted in Poetry | Comments Off
Monday, March 15th, 2004
Can’t sleep
Can’t sleep.
A train, the train from where I have departed, or did the train depart from me? The train runs through the tracks on my brain. The train has come from Hamlet’s Denmark, and through to theLoman’s house. The train stops in the cellar, dark.
Another train, twin to my own, docks next door, in a … [Continue Reading]
Posted in Journal | Comments Off
Wednesday, March 3rd, 2004
Know Thyself
We are grim. We have given way to the bloodshed of meaning, of happiness. We have left behind ourselves, we have left behind simplicity, we have left behind reality and filled our longing with complexity, with grandeur, with nothing. It is no wonder science has helped us to live longer, for we live less in hours that we should in minutes. The object of our attention is shadowing the heart of humanity. We are possessed by things tangible, by things aesthetic, by things loud.
But are we anywhere at all? Why can the… [Continue Reading]
Posted in Philosophy | Comments Off
Saturday, February 14th, 2004
Moment
The moment walks into a room as another leaves. They wave to each other casually, like two people that have taken the same bus to work for years. The moment is alone as it closes the door behind it. It continues to walk in a straight like, its speed never fluctuating. Pictures on the walls of people talking, walking, waiting attract its attention. There are more pictures, of… [Continue Reading]
Posted in Poetry | Comments Off