Quantum Sagas

Springtime in the Void

for eleven years have i quenched the inferno
that originates fearful at the mention
of your fiery name
rolling off of lips as mountains and tendrils
tracing sunlight through the branches
falling on ever-softening grace.

rival of the soul
dancing in the shallows
forever lurking along the murky strait
never more than a handbreadth's distance
and always so forever arcing
in the distance that falls between
idle madness and intrigue and selfishness

like earth in the hands
glistening and motionless
forever you are slipping; trickling
cutting the air with edges so dull
a maelstrom hovering
in your localized circumference

always flowing
reaching out in streambeds
erosion forever unmasking
the creeping roots
formed of years in silence
without laughter
without mutual comprehension

sides superimposed
the left side null and numb
from streaming without cease
finally winning out of contention
and sparking haphazardly
out of mortal fear

now i stare openly
while rational thought flies transparent
while you speak
following with rain and wind and snow
and speaking in the cipher of time
where loneliness stopped existing
if but for one fleeting instance
when you called upon the flaring moon
and sitting there before me
you became smoke
and forever i inhaled you
'til my lungs thought to burst

and in the imminent explosion
i realized
that night should never come
in your coma of solar windfall
spinning at tangents to your destination
and orbiting in a haze about
my nucleus; my good intention
where the contingent vacuum
was filled with dreaming
of archetypes and monarchy
and your laughter was a collision
of fear and love
and wrenching sadness

for eleven centuries have i
stood in your downpour
with knees buckled in fright
head folded into the gaping emptiness
of my hands
where rain became salty
and stung like sweltering heat
falling from cheekbones
and joining the gathering mire beneath me

and now i stand
raised once again
as if from an afterlife
rejuvenated by your illustrious voice
chords and harmonies
and ever so real smiling
to be there as the mist clears
and standing in the field of your vision

:: smw :: 08.04.03 :: 9.49

Expansion

after moderately basking in your presence
the lack of your being here is a cold, vaporous expanse.
speech is so meaningless to follow the waning vortex of your departure.
gathering impulse on your inconsequential absence,
this momentum may send me quickly towards the breaking waves,
and past, to be dragged down by the undertow.
so you a siren, unintentionally luring me out
with the silence of those words that fall between
that i do not hear except for their echoing in my own mind.

:: smw :: 080803 :: late.early.tired

Worth it?

where do i draw the line?

like a tiger stalking forward,
ever faced with that invisible boundary;
careful not to rustle the brush
in fear that the prey will bolt.

but i do not blend with the grass.
i have no stealth,
and my joints are rusty:
squealing and creaking
with every step i'm not taking.

speaking with a comma
at the end of every sentence,
waiting for the silence...
but always there is noise.
white noise
frothy and silted.

when the night returns,
the monotonous curtain of space
like words saving you from solar rapture,
i will be there
melting, luminescent
(thick film of course).
for i cannot change my skin;
i will never soak up midnight
so well as you.

always in a bubble.
in that static cushion
of misplaced sentences
and misused vocabulary;
in that kingdom of bogs,
foxholes and trenches.

carried away
by a thread of semantics.

there is no future,
only moments
thrown on top of one another
like sacks of concrete
or potting soil.

:: smw :: 090303 :: 2154 ::

Round Corner

as dusk deteriorates
and reality strikes like a matchbook
i'm hit with a squall of coldness
sitting outside in a t-shirt

night is condescending here
and i am amazed that i can see stars
choked by sodium twilight
against the dark blue womb of the sky
and the clouds folded into the backdrop

it's a silent evening
and i am probably the only one awake
everyone else
huddled under their blankets
of misconceptions

it's rare to see stars here
i can actually see orion this night
angled towards the horizon
flying like superman

the stars are here for now
but not like in the country
but i can't go back to the country
not anytime soon
for comfort is not an option

i realize i'll probably die of cancer
and that now i am just wasting time
since i started my life incorrectly
so i must again start anew
why did i used to smoke again?

i remember where i was three hours ago
laying on my bed
sharing my thoughts
and not sharing my thoughts
it's so hard to speak when limited by confusion
but time is well spent
with someone who makes you forget

there i was
staring into your eyes
and time didn't matter
and life didn't matter
and night didn't matter
and cold didn't matter
there were no limitations

i have no faith
except in love
all that matters

i remember where i was
twenty-four hours ago
and now return there

.. smw . 10.05.03 . 0238 ..

Altogether Normal

in a moment of lupine realization it will come upon you
as the second drop of rain does so before a gentle shower;
that had you unhinged your jaw and filled the molten glass
with your warm breath before standing as a child does
in wont of incorrigible affection,
the day may have grown softer, less frenetic...
mellow, ethereal.
that laughing while crying and tasting the aeriform air
heavy with saline on that indeterminate evening
would turn your symbols to paragraphs,
you (perhaps) would have sheared the tether
binding you to your self-sustaining bliss
and retract the curtain who kept the stage
from the intrusion of polished mirrors.

(perhaps) i would have been powerless,
whimpering unintelligibly and pausing in wait
in the blanking room; the oubliette,
for the phrases to trickle as nectar
down the walls into tightly cupped fists.

:: smw :: 08.06.03 :: 00.31

Lack of Specific Company

off to a manifest universe,
where the cosmos never sleeps;
this is where you have gone to.
hovering in the empty space
like an apparition when
the photographic imprint
fades from memory,
and all that is left is the pattern
still lingering from
unexpected affection.

:: smw :: 080903 :: 0030

A vestige, a remonstration

through this passionate nightmare
i continue oscillating
increasingly limited by collapsing walls,
like cubicle dividers reaching to the heavens.
one to one, two to negative one.
-1e-001
this is the current resolution.
attacking in silence with fingertips and
thigh upon milky thigh,
reaching into the meshed webbing
of flesh and cherrywood.

the frosty twilight;
dawn on the waking water
interwoven as a pretzel
or a mobius strip
while adolescents discovered sunken treasure
within the theatre of palm fronds and oxidized copper statuettes.
crossed over, one then two,
wrapped tightly in the warmth of an embrace
while milliseconds and allusions disappeared
and the breeze diminished
and the conversation continued.
pouring out as if into the not-so-still and glassy surface
of the wading pool.

and the return trip;
railing along and drifting off

only to be made amorous
by the orange glow from sodium lamps;
eye-bulb reflections in the windshield:
blue and bright as midday autumn skies.

december is coming
so is january.
with the year end
so ends the carefully constructed structure
with the ease of a controlled blast.
and here shall lie the rubble
to be forever sifted through
by unappreciative hands.

i will be without a place to sit.

. smw :: 10.20.03 :: 00.43 .

Writing again

With you gone,
Seconds stretch eternal;
Nerves like molten tungsten
Turning liquid in my system
Pouring into my stomach
Impossible to eat but a modest mouthful
Yet eating words comes naturally,
and swallowing tears unavoidable.

Pink noise a static rim in my peripheral vision
Blocks visual music
and consumption of any environment
Without you in it.
All attempts to focus upon
Cues less than ethereal
Fail miserably,
So I shy from attempting at all.

My mental ability
Impaired by your seed-planting virus
And the imminent ice-age to which it bears fruit.
Concorde jets screaming through
This cognitive atmosphere
Leaving their contrails; a cascade of sonic fire
Whereby the sky freezes solid:
Ice-clusters pocked with fears and doubts,
Crystalline in structure and fractal in nature,
Recursive and subversive.

So I cling to vowels and inflections
But the lack thereof leaves me in a hyper paralysis.
What I love is information
Raw and tangible
Shining like a bauble or trinket,
Refractive like precious gemstones;
Discovering it like treasure
Adventure on the high seas.
But like priceless jewelry,
Such information is a rarity,
And in this inversion of my local cosmos,
My coverage is spotty
And data difficult to retrieve without error
Of which no filter could manage a recovery.

[8.22.05]

The time is now

It's time to begin posting again, but I'm going to avoid socio-political commentary as much as possible. I had the epiphany that no one cares and it doesn't matter anyways. To follow it all just becomes addicting and makes one bitter and disconnected with reality. The time for life is now. So I will post writing and the such, comments on films and television shows, books, etc. I will get back on it later today with something I wrote.