Still House


Now empty windows
make the ashes solid
but what about the barrels of fire?

Your rhythm
your hollow brain

Wandering horses shiver and gallop
over ice puddles
wind stabs the breastbone

On the high cliffs above the locks
elevators give way
to victorian houses
stone parapets have that same look
down to the abandoned paper mill
until the path runs out

Skylight and little fireplace with blue jet flame
tongues licking
all sparks forbidden
little dog with a crown
over the bench

There was too much shouting and confusion
now it’s all a lull
of arms and legs and nightgowns

Women listening to bodies like alarm clocks
drinks? food? check?
everything is artificial and very real

White haired man sips his beer
when the game draws his eyes up
hey lemme give ya a proper squoze!

Inexhaustible blue screens

Faceless in a cafe
phonecall from 1917 pick up in 2014
yeah? yeah? ok ok

-After Cendrars (profound today) (Jan-2014)