unfinished

when the impulse of silence
has grabbed you and held you in rote
and all the little raindrops
are drilling in your insight

will you see the chronicle of
the angry hand of jealousy;
the sand of your smile
black and roughly messy!

but there's never too far
a little outcrop
of tall-standing crabgrass
and the smell of fresh cob.

the dancing dragonflies
with baked apples and cinnamon
and newly caught cat-o'-nine tails
and tables laced with lumination-






NOTES: i almost never rhyme, ever. despite it, mostly. but there's this artist, Joanna Newsom, whom is absolutely stunning and breathtaking not only with her music (and absurd yet charming voice), but with her lyrics as well. listen and read along and be prepared to be amazed.) and she simply inspires me to write silly things (that rhyme).


i will never finish this. that's the whole point of stream-of-consciousness i suppose. hehe