carbondate

a.e. hart's sketchpad

Month: June, 2011

psa

the pace at which i walk
changes every three and one half minutes;
radio friendly.

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easy.

im satisfied that when all of this is over, i will have two strong arms, and the courage to lift my voice again. i squander a gift every time i open my mouth. there are lines to cross, and i have crossed all of them.

as we are forgetful, i will tie your mysteries to this flag. a flag of war. a flag of war on war. and you will sew your backwards alphabet into my misgivings. here we go again. a ghost and a martyr. a satyr and a movie set.

i wanted you to know better. how frequently we are disappointed.  i am watching from the audience now, and i am impotent. everyday power pools in my back, and these days i can barely move at all. it will become a sickness.

i have a barrage of excuses. a litany of distractions.  i should have quit so long ago.  i should lie and steal to make the space for it.  but i bound myself in moral law, and you carbonated the moon.

it wont be long now. its june again and my heart is broken. you will stain the paper, and i will finally explode. a surge of sweetness, of purpose. and then i will rest. so satisfied. so easy.

dry

i quit writing, and started painting
so now im always waiting for things to dry

in particular
since you stumbled into a puddle
and are drying your shoes
somewhere alone

i am reconstructing my home
and my heart
in case you dont come back

i took the pictures off the wall
in the kitchen
took them out of their frames
and cut my own artwork into
a series of simple shapes
painted the frames
red and yellow and blue
these are building blocks
now the glue is wet
and im back to this state
i cant seem to avoid

if there were more space
in this apartment
i would move on to another project
but the space i gave over to you
was more than i had room for
metaphorically
and besides
there are jewels to collect
here in the settled oxygen