‘Til Eyes 1

January 9, 2011

It was the perfect adjective as the mist slicked the pavement and caused scars of white light to slash across the surface. I walked over to the grass just


beyond the sidewalk and laid recklessly in it; placing my hand to the moist earth,


deliberately stroking and fondling the moist blades, feeling the wet soil as my fingers dig

into it and that silty earth insinuates its way under my fingernails.

I’m still psychic;


saw your dark eyes as they surveyed a figure televised in a messianic pose. Rain rolls down my face and runs into my eyes.


Then you gaze upon her angular face with the huge all-encompassing eyes. I sent her to you because I knew you of all cosmics would see inside in ways that no one else would.

Her dress could’ve been any color really but your mind fills in the gaps as it should be; swimming? No. It’s just the wind winging its way through her hair and the folds of the dress; dark but ambiguous in hue because you’re dreaming and for once there’s no color


                                                        just fluid linearity and a slender shoulder upon which her chin rests. Maybe I throw down the gauntlet to whisper or scream or dance ridiculously while my shirt clings to my sodden form


and I fall back into the mud.





Basic. Touch your fingers to earth; the back of your head sits in the silt, ringlets of brown curling tentacled around your face like octopus halo. Camera in your eye stares heavy-lidded upward and you see the battering rain steering currents that make that succulent brown mass  of  hair move and cling fortuitously to that forehead and cheeks





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