Hey, guys. I've been meaning to drop in and post like i normally do (well, like I used to) and churn out a classic soapbox rant about my day-to-day trivialities. However, feeling the flow again, I decided to substantially tweak - and finish - a piece that i started a few days ago, when feeling particularly stressed from general office insanity. Here's the result.

I need to jet, however, and call up a few folk this evening, still, before i hit the sack. I sincerely hope you have a wonderful Monday night, and the best of days tomorrow. Sleep well.

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act of balance

9/13/04

tonight a nightblue whisper is the rhythm
barely there like
a child’s wish, but
now that you mention it
really the beat’s closer to the flat
sound of wind
on heavy lead afternoons
that brushes against paper lanterns
unlit, flirting
with the walls outside
ignoring the insides, leaving them
smeared an unbecoming
eggshell stillness
that overlooks the cobwebs
scattered about in the corners
in an idiot’s fit, laying low
stepping past the vitality
captured on stretched canvases
that hang like regal corpses

soon enough soft rhythm becomes
a pounding blitzkrieg, whispers turning to
daytime battles
and I’m tired, oh so tired
run down by the nothinglight
that filters down through these nothingwindows
onto my plain mercenary nothingwalls

of its burnt nickelodeon image
and stale mildew stench
I’ve grown tired
but my oh my, don’t that wind
sound soft tonight
like drops of the sweetest jazz
falling from the heavens -
the tears of god on the eve of war