slide

1/13/05

i must have the true heart of an artist
for if I can bleed this fast and dream this deep
and feel these cannon-shot holes in my chest
but be lifted to the sun with the slightest south wind
i must really have it inside,
just cleverly disguised in the greatest of guise
with bites and bytes and sprites –
the things geeks dream of

but I doubt they can feel as I; strong, like
the smell of fresh dirt ground beneath a
traveler’s clouded and ambivalent steps;
they see the grains of sand while
in the dying light I see the forest old and stricken with decay
and oh how the bloated sky roils above it!

what I would give
to have that microscopic vision and stoic stance
against the rest of it all like those warriors for
the abstract;
but all I can see is the reality afore me,
the blackest ice

and all around me the tankers slide