Monday, August 27, 2007

And you, you knew the hands of a devil.

What is that, the change, the breath of life which dances on the humid kiss of Spring? It's a torrent of possibilities, a tsunami of tomorrows, deep, dark and green blue peaks crashing through the canyons of Winter, filling yesterday with tears, today with life, and tomorrow with hope. Dreams sprout infant green (white blossoms) - tiny plans dart and dash about your ankles, coral colours of a deep blue, see?

Luck is here.
If you want it.
If you relax and let the tide take you.

********

I've got a good spot to sit and watch the world drown, up high some and dry so I can smoke. What do I think about Spring? It's the inevitability that all this will be forgotten. That nothing means a goddamn thing, that no matter what you do, pauper or prince, that tomorrow will swallow you whole, and though you were given the wings of an angel, or were cursed with the hands of a devil, you will be forgotten - perhaps a footnote, if you're lucky, or hungry, more likely not. That's how I see Spring when I sit on my peak and watch the cycle from above, sucking on my cancer, alone, again. It is not an unhappy thought. That we are all turned to stone and covered in moss, covered in new life.

Monuments to what exactly?

You tell me that Spring, what will you remember about those who Fall before you?

********

You have a chance now,
to try a different cycle.
To begin that road, there,
on another foot.
To look beyond these borders,
to find something deeper, further
to find something true,
to fucking run TOWARD
not away.

Run toward it.

I'll race you.

8 comments:

  1. i delight in your words, and in your delight with your words. the way you fold them and plump them and play with them and place them, just so. they flow, and there is no feeling of overwork, or overhandling. the dough is not over-kneaded, it is all just so. truly beautiful.

    along with the sunny skies of today, these words have made me happy.

    thank you.

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  2. hehehe, I meant of course, SHUCKS, not sucks. No Freud here. Swears.

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  3. Sucks and shickers MG, you sure do know how to compliment a poor ole country boy.

    x

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  4. yeah right, shucks not sucks.

    i should introduce you to a good friend of mine - sugar belle. if you be a cowboy, or a sherriff(hey hey, look at that, i do believe you are) then she be able to "entertain" the lahkes of you.

    http://comeoneovertosugars.blogspot.com/

    seriously, you make the words sing.

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  5. It's not so much about who remembers you-- memories lie-- as who knows you in the now.

    Or that's what Spring should say. She's all about the lure of petals.

    (CHURROS!)

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  6. You realllllly need to read "Even Cowgirls Get the Blues". That goes for all of you.

    x annaspades.

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  7. hehe, I know the book well. If you like Mr Robbins, try Still life with Woodpecker. It's a funny chaotic love story and wonderful, but maybe my favourite is Skinny Legs and all. Which would be a good name for this blog actually should I ever change it...

    He's cool. It's been ages since I read him. I should revisit.

    Hope you are well Ms Spades.

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  8. I really feel this, but I do every spring. Kudos

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