Sunday, September 26, 2010

Listening to the wind skip like a broken needle

The 4 walls of scattered clouds
                              stapled to an abalone sunset
              & the concrete steps to the beach below

A not quite parallel universe
              versus a jingle-jangle breakdown where you cave in to a sort of sleep

                                          To be subsumed

She said, “I hate to say I told you so” & then she did
                              Ear to the ground as if through channels hollowed out in the mind itself

Part of my mind is an old scratched & warped Stooges album
                                                the other part is an impossibly flawless wave
              one you can ride for 300 miles

                              the last part is entitled “The Neon Palisades”

              Dark sky (via telepathy) darker water
                                                                i   n   d   i   g   o       t   i   d   e

                                                                She turned & began to
cascade vertically on the wet pavement

                                          but a pale twist of smoke before the flame jumps up from the
                              dry grass & dead weeds
pale fingers, scattered clouds, abalone palisades
spilling like concrete steps
                                                                              into the sand