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this fiction of mine laboured tightly in the skull of memories and mysteries worked to the wheel by furies who deal the willing thread in...

Monday, March 21, 2011

boulders


because of man's zest obstinate in success 
stones roll faithless and as we climb the hill
we meet them head on
once capsized they furrow our backs
-it's a world diverged calling for carnage 
at the sight of flesh

these operations yield a speed and curve 
unabridged of guilt dealt with all desires squared 
in a puzzle fair 
by a spread of ladies in shadow 
-o yes that old trade- ready to maim
whoever collisions fittingly 
emotions in hand

it's a piece of our heart laid on the table 
to bid on a rumor of one fanciful ride 
on the yellow blunt gallows where hangs 
the knowhow of our fathers' hell -we 
envision they nod on the stars to lit 
the skies all -we do not understand care
-we roll in the fall who drove wolves 
blowing sea shells for pure joy as 
the cups spill overflowed with betrayal
-we hear a far rumble...boulders we think

it's the one with the stone wallowing 
in the stumble -never short of faith nor ever 
short of rock bottom- there he rolls and tries 
and pushes the stone up the hill once again
and careless the shadows of a lady cut 
his breath

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