|
caramba
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Sung
Country: United States
State: Michigan
Metro: Grand Rapids
Birthday: 7/12/1977
Gender: Male
Interests: dead artists, poets, musicians, philosophers
Expertise: Still applying myself
Occupation: Artist
Industry: Art
Message: message me
Member Since:
6/10/2003
|
|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| My SongSilence left with the footsteps that came
The birds that circled
Trees that swayed
Later I asked to hear it again
That same day
Because it was my song
I went to my friend
Who moved to the country
To be with a woman that I never knew
He came out to see me
In new clothes and shoes
Changes that I had never imagined
I asked him to make that song that he heard too
That once disturbed the silence in our neighborhood
The one that kept up for an entire day
Until by the new moon, when it went away
It had rhythm, clapping, and words
Spiritual as Jesus in a room full of birds
Instead he brought me into his yard
Where his wife made jelly and sang her own song
Sweet though hers might have been
She could not make it the same
But the next morning, before the world was awake
There was silence
Then I heard my song again
| | |
| To the edge of the worldI ran to the edge of the world
Even though the world is round
There is an end,
And eventually I outran the streets, signs, and fences
Past the last roads
To see something new
Surely there would be chaos
Instead there were trees and houses
With wider roads and greater lights
The mythic hilltops from ancient battles,
Stretched to a horizon that somewhere fell away
While the sun in space slowly orbited behind a veil of blue atmosphere
The night caught up
When I returned from where I came
Everything old was new
Except, where the history of that other place was a foreign one
Here it was once mine
And passing by a mirror I saw someone I knew
Even though I no longer recognized myself
Apparently I never had to leave to change
| | |
| Humble BeginningsA grand cut of stone to build a restaurant
Marble, with licorice lines and peach specks
A cornerstone shared with a bank.
The trees lay an even shadow over the doors and windows
A Breeze works each leaf as a farmer hand picking
Whipping the shadow somewhat violently on the marble stone
Silent hits without any protest
For the stone's hardness, its cleaved face
Burnished by a bike rider's foot
When she posts her heel against it.
| | |
| What Could I DoHistory was written
As if solitude never was,
or that private issues was not one for country
But
-I saw it in my lover's eyes while she lie down
Her empty smile made me mad.
Being neither happiness nor consolation
I could only sit next to her in the darkness.
Then she pushed me away, and that took my breath
It heaved in me but would not expel.
I stumbled towards her only to be repelled, without words
I picked up my socks and left without closing the door.
This the second of Adam's lot, the first being boredom, but
Tonight it was loneliness. It was strange that there were so many of us
Outside, with our shirts off, and some of us bleeding at the shins,
While some of us sat on the park benches hollowed like a cave.
All of us so somber, at our own funerals
I wrestled with thoughts that neither were sane nor brought relief
I got to my room and beat myself until everything lie broken
The next day she came to my door and found me asleep
Sitting next to me, she ran her finger through my hair
But all I wanted to do was push her away
And be myself.
| | |
| AnonymousBefore I become dumb
And the world dims
I say to you goodnight
With full and round words
Complete with purity and good intent
Stay close to me and say my name
Grow closer with every sound
Open your heart shaped room
That I can enter and stay
Lighting all the lamps bright
Sleep falls on me now
Your face and narrow shoulders grow thin
What of you will I remember
Or does it matter for in the morning I will love you again
In all the different ways
| | |
|
