juanonimo: William Miller - Ruined Polaroids
THE REAL IS A WET PHOTOGRAPH
(Source: blue-voids, via singtheremin)
circus
the circular circus
hovers over the hollow
of never
& glancing down
you view yourself
you with the infinite eyes
in the chasm
like you stepped off into heaven
catching white in your mouth
and two clouds with their shrouds
swing low
to touch your cheek
(shadow of aforementioned never
touching you)
drift of wind flutterbugs your hair
but the rest of all of you
will never sway today
for the evermore of sunlight
you cannot touch
is echoing in distant rooms
full of meaningless projects
THE REAL IS A WET PHOTOGRAPH
and you memorize the maze
cuz it’s not crazy to crave
this life pulse of people
but it sometimes seems so lovely
to float
in a golden box
as the leaves heave themselves
in dusty rows at our toes
the sound, unwound
reminds me of the fifties clown
who lost his leather jacket
but found his beatles button
‘rhymes with mutton’
i pause to explain
the rain
my brain
psychic pain
but the waves are just washups
could soon be a tossup
for 11 lucky rainbows
standing at my door, what for?
what’s the score?
hope you’ll be there with bells on
before we are all gone —
don’t count the cliches
as they’re sincere
and longwinded here
because the lassos
that are passions
bind us to this purpose
of every pore toward
magnetic rapture
Oculi - Blind Eye
(Source: proustitute, via creatio-ex-materia)
Calling out across the carpet, a flesh of condensation
participating in precipitation
exceptional landscapes brought the above a hovering
conversation… in part with you, as I see you… way… over… there
and partly with myself
about letting go of great moments
WRITHING UP
under an assortment of colorful garments
the mixed messages of discombobulated buoyancy
Is this not an extension? Of myself? Of a question? Of a question I’m asking myself?
seven atmospheres above a new height measured
somehow my calling became my body became my calling body
in the all above a new height measured an abacus counting pi-like infinities
extending, recoiling
actions that induce movement
seducing this buoyancy
I see you standing on a cloud in the middle ground…
i’m being propelled toward a new gravity
the doctorate by the brevvaxlings
The patio was a refuge and made me forget we were on the West Bank, much less in a condominium in Cedar Riverside neighborhood. Darkness filtered in through parallelograms of space between the lattice woodwork to create smooth pauses to the light. People stopped by that were unfamiliar. I was trying to be cool, friendly, chill. I drank another beer to relax.
Like Spain, we stayed up way too late. We sat on the floor. I brushed the cat’s matted fur until she couldn’t take it anymore. There was a large aquarium with fish and the glow of the florescent light through water. Remember when we watched the sunrise and saw the goats moving along the hillside across the Tajo River?
Your place was beginning to look like your dad’s house. I could tell you were definitely related. Rocks and fossils were strewn about the house to gaze at, touch and wonder at the beauty. Pinpoint the particular then eyes to the sky to view the bigger picture. Your gift of gab, structured silliness and hope were inspiring.
But the small talk was killing me inside. When we finally talked about your life, your real life, I had already made up my mind. I looked down and my jeans were full of cat hair. All those aspects that were you and so great were defeated. I left disappointed in you and your decisions to hurt my friend.
A few months earlier, I had learned you had an affair with your best friend’s wife. Still reeling from my own recent divorce, I chose to listen to both sides of this story. Your best friend was also my friend. We had all met in Spain on a study abroad semester over ten years ago. The large, gaping hole in my heart was as lost as the darkness on your patio. It was as painful as brushing out the cat’s dreadlocks. I entered your house that evening with a preconceived notion based off of my personal hurt and empathy for our friend. Only now am I learning to forgive myself for how I felt about you and my perceived hurt you inflicted myself and upon others.
then the voice of reason came crashing in,
forcing language and mouthing hungry animals all the way to starbucks
it was a fantastic contraction no panic or faction but the reaction of an exhausted mother to reboost and retreat and feel great about the heat sit still hold the bill and pay it, pay twice and make sure it gets paid keep the top up forget about the weather gottam it nothing important just civilised intention tonight we get into the mix, we choose words carefully and make them meaningful, tho not to let it all lightly go by you.
PASSES
1. stones with algae flowing like a lady’s hair in the current underwater
2. the chamber of the heart when lit up with an incandescent bulb, about 25 watts
3. it was a sold out show but we were on the list
4. a soundtrack for riding
5. a spaceship made of flutes going thru the carwash
6. close encounter with clover, start this one over
7. field frequencies pedal forth in acoustic bone echoes, electricity wavers thru people having an impromptu picnic of dandelion stew cooked in a cowboy hat
8. a parachute onto nets of cloud that actually hold
9. detroit freeway names
10. you filled out your application for sainthood
11. a couple is breaking up at the table next to you
12. untitled
13. resting to enjoy the view in a corridor between space station and vessel
14. the way out the wormhole is b flat to c natural
15. windchimes of my mind twined with thine
16. spelunking the junkyard was more fun in 3033, the girl from the future tells me
17. trading between the windows while i’m in the sun shadow quadrilateral on the floor archangels in the storefront
18. for time’s old sake
-from the Ascona Poems
