To Minus Light

rivers of air inside a careless breeze
struck down in the prime material negation of
charged senses in electric countdown dropping to
acid lime vectors
Shape, Color, and Sound looping into
endless dishwasher cycles
clapping ceramic to the floor
striking words into chordless irony praise
for the prose in position ready to draw or defeat
a morose application to the eyes
shadowing pigment
to minus light in grayscale gradients

meaning found through meticulous manicure
striking fingers poised with slipping shoes
flickering dancing figures in blazing kindness
the shame that youth ends far too soon



[22:14|26.3.013] ©c.thom

Old Thought

Laid to sleep by the lilting of the ocean; birds cry and fly in the salty air, yet no land is to be seen.  A faint whisper of a dream dances behind closed eyes; a bow gently is drawn upon spider-web strings.  Many eight-legged bodies can be felt quietly crawling over each other in a silent dance.

The moon rises and casts its delicate light from the horizon; the soft drumming of a heartbeat undulates in a firm rhythm.  The faces of lost loves rise and sink with the waves; a chain of rapture and disappointment.

A spectre floating on subconscious introspection speaks ancient secrets in susurrations.  Gray hairs slowly replace color, and lines are etched by concatenation.  A smoky bouquet is breathed into the nares; embers of failed resolutions burning to cold ash in the mind's eye.


[22:11|23.3.013] ©c.thom

Caliginous Memories

A pause, a shift in the wind, a mirrored reflection in the now still water; honesty divided, weakness refracted, a ghost in the machine.  Crows sing their twisted songs at a cautious distance.  And while music flows, thoughts are damned; rotten clumps of chaotic whims floating on a sea of sin.  The quiet beating of a light rain brings flashes of luminescence, followed by muttering doubts.  In this surge of electric epiphanies, glimpses of future fortuity is perceived; followed by draining tremors of guilt, hardened into the silence of an unfeeling heart.

In the crux of self-sanitation is found the need to forget; to dull the cutting edges of caliginous memories.



[20:53|22.3.013] ©c.thom

Misfortunate

a shadow behind the masses
weaving between smiles and endless faces
a smoke on the horizon
too faint to be seen

too familiar to be recognized
monikers lost in yellow pages
incompatible with photographs
thoughts too dense to be scried

alone in the middle of nowhere
living in some when-else of time
too meek to seek out company
generations of alternate reality

never there when the moment is prime

a flare for the surreal when all are blind



[17:27|06.3.013] ©c.thom

To Gain by Homicide

Lycocaine Enable
to gain by homicide
all purple scars
and torn sleeves
cresting the dune
sand stinging skin
until skinless skies

walk, haunt the desert
bleached bones in human arraignment
discordant waves
hammered into brass
bleating streams of sunlight
while hungry teeth masticated igneous stone
obsidian eyes reflected quiet rage

anger at all greedy fingers
carving with filing nails
names where namelessness evolved

cleansed in atomic fire
rinsed in rising ocean
dried in solar flare
folded by time and space
placed away in singularity


[16:34|06.3.013] ©c.thomas.carter