Friday, April 15, 2005
wordplay...
“Wordplay”
Exupéry on my mind,
dancers estimated cargo time,
girl with brunette hair
and a smile like twisted lime
amazement in cycles
trifles, thorough
sunset falling scuffle
shuffle-dancers
sandy-shored sway
where sea-birds flock
squawk words talk
without syllables,
representations petit fils
behind closed doors,
veil-dropped social mores
locks of brunette hair
swept aside on hardwood floors
cyclical amazement
sweet serenade
whispers of rumors
horses for trademusic stops
only to echo as once more
blind sugar sweet mini-smiles
glance off my eyes
laughter, sandy winded
upper echelon freeze-framed
time sensitive smiles, a
swing to your gait,
reflexive use of protocol
whip cracked spins
turns tail unambiguously
sunset brunette diaspora
-----------
(this was written because I missed something I wanted to see, and rather than wonder what it was like, I decided to imagine the scene. Oh, except, as always, that one kernel image that is constantly shifting in my mind, going from the very tips of almost invisible blonde (sometimes brunette, i'm an equal opportunity offender...just like richard marx...and if you get that reference, you are as much a fucking loser as I am...) hair to the wispy and self-serving smoke that fled from my cigarette and disappeared into the air around me. I can't deny it is mostly aesthetics, but I am coming to believe aesthetics are important, if only because they are the easiest to manipulate and the hardest to develop. At any rate, on Thursday, I learned how good it can feel to get the wind moving through my hair. I'll have to do that again.)
cf
ps - how i feel tonight...
"There's a bone in my ear
Keeps singing your name
Sometimes it's like pleasure
Sometimes it's like pain
It's a small voice and quiet
But I hear it plain
There's a bone in my ear
Keeps singing your name
In my heart there's a an image
Like looking through glass
Could be looking at me
Could be looking right past
I don't like it when
I can't tell which is true
But I wouldn't trade the world
For that picture of you
Moon in the water
Cold light in the streets
Warmth in your fingers
Sweat in your sheets
Laid out like an offering
Where two currents meet
The river is dark
But the water is sweet
Wailing on the mountain
Smoke on the wind
Can't drown out the whisper
Or the scent of your skin
Don't know where it came from
But I know where it came
There's a bone in my ear
Keeps singing your name"
("bone in my ear" by b. cockburn)
that's enough words for now, if you're that interested, there will be more later...
cf
Exupéry on my mind,
dancers estimated cargo time,
girl with brunette hair
and a smile like twisted lime
amazement in cycles
trifles, thorough
sunset falling scuffle
shuffle-dancers
sandy-shored sway
where sea-birds flock
squawk words talk
without syllables,
representations petit fils
behind closed doors,
veil-dropped social mores
locks of brunette hair
swept aside on hardwood floors
cyclical amazement
sweet serenade
whispers of rumors
horses for trademusic stops
only to echo as once more
blind sugar sweet mini-smiles
glance off my eyes
laughter, sandy winded
upper echelon freeze-framed
time sensitive smiles, a
swing to your gait,
reflexive use of protocol
whip cracked spins
turns tail unambiguously
sunset brunette diaspora
-----------
(this was written because I missed something I wanted to see, and rather than wonder what it was like, I decided to imagine the scene. Oh, except, as always, that one kernel image that is constantly shifting in my mind, going from the very tips of almost invisible blonde (sometimes brunette, i'm an equal opportunity offender...just like richard marx...and if you get that reference, you are as much a fucking loser as I am...) hair to the wispy and self-serving smoke that fled from my cigarette and disappeared into the air around me. I can't deny it is mostly aesthetics, but I am coming to believe aesthetics are important, if only because they are the easiest to manipulate and the hardest to develop. At any rate, on Thursday, I learned how good it can feel to get the wind moving through my hair. I'll have to do that again.)
cf
ps - how i feel tonight...
"There's a bone in my ear
Keeps singing your name
Sometimes it's like pleasure
Sometimes it's like pain
It's a small voice and quiet
But I hear it plain
There's a bone in my ear
Keeps singing your name
In my heart there's a an image
Like looking through glass
Could be looking at me
Could be looking right past
I don't like it when
I can't tell which is true
But I wouldn't trade the world
For that picture of you
Moon in the water
Cold light in the streets
Warmth in your fingers
Sweat in your sheets
Laid out like an offering
Where two currents meet
The river is dark
But the water is sweet
Wailing on the mountain
Smoke on the wind
Can't drown out the whisper
Or the scent of your skin
Don't know where it came from
But I know where it came
There's a bone in my ear
Keeps singing your name"
("bone in my ear" by b. cockburn)
that's enough words for now, if you're that interested, there will be more later...
cf
