Monthly Archives: July 2012
Water Polo. What a cat!
Doing the Pommel. What a cat!
Love of splash in shady corners
drives the lone graffiti artist
to spray graphics bold and shortest
heeding neither law nor orders.
Heeding neither orders nor law
an artist paints on walls plain bare
round-bellied letters with wild hair
declare where I do dare to draw.
When I dare to draw or paint rhymes
words and lines dance free in the air
I give them weight all they can bear
but it’s not my weight nor my times.
Not my times nor even my weight
lie under the rhyme and the sound
I dig through the lost and not found
for the one way to box my freight.
For the one way to freight my box
leads me onto old crooked roads
of sound, only sounds are the loads
that hold the tock of my rhyme’s clock.
Sculling. What a cat!
Darkened abruptly eerie day
steps from the shadows in the room
and begins to sculpt shapes of gloom
spread outward through me and away.
Spread outward and away through me
shadows stuck tight to my feet sweep
through a dark crisscross of the street
longing to skip their heels and flee.
To skip their heels and flee along
a river of asphalt too black
for shadows to play in the cracks
let light change soft shape into strong.
Let light change the stark eerie shape
of tree branches writhing to knit
street lace on a sidewalk still lit
on and off by a neon drape.
A neon drape blinks with the flash
of cursive opens and light beer
colored light bound to interfere
with shady corners’ love of splash..