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The keyboard winds calligraphic i's
under the rough&tumble
of a rickety handle on each moment.
They're pressing forward
with every brush(heart) stroke
fashioned on this easel
of picturesque life. Though
this seems ten pages ahead of it.
Let me probe the (pain)ting a little further.
I disaggregate that beastful mind,
knocking the "-ed" off past tense,
forcing that first dip and wisk
not to have taken place so soon
(for 20/20 hindsight kills).
This story has yet to be written,
but deja vu beats my breath harder.
Maybe it's just me this time...
Looking at the blinking cursor
on Urania's star charts and record screen,
I'm suddenly doubting that.
 Lovers Never Tell · Thu Jul 24, 2008 @ 09:38am · 0 Comments |
