Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Happy New Year!

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Run Like Me



set me loose from the ancient spring
watch me run in the breaking day
hold my heart in the rays of the sun
i am riding until i'm done

see me now, to the side of light
a mere wisp that rides away
turn around and see the world
hold out your hand and touch the pearl

life is green and life is brown
right side up and upside down
would you break it to fit the mold
you burn your fires yet you are cold
the fires burn
yet you are cold
my eyes are dark, my legs are strong
i run like a river, down to the sea
run like a river
run like me

the days are dying into the west
and yet i ride before the storm
none can catch this winter beast
the trees are still, they sleep in peace

set me loose from the ancient spring
watch me run in the breaking day
hold my heart in the rays of the sun
i am riding until i'm done

life is green and life is brown
right side up and upside down
would you break it to fit the mold
you burn your fires yet you are cold
the fires burn
yet you are cold
my eyes are dark, my legs are strong
i run like a river, down to the sea
run like a river
run like me

***

Monday, December 12, 2011

Elongated Nerves Gesturing to the Riverbanks

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Monday, December 05, 2011

Smile, Mom, Smile



My mother, the cellist...

Smile, sweetheart, and play inside the music of the spheres...

Alayne Sylvia Abbott Armstrong
September 1st, 1928
November 26th, 2011

I will love and miss you forever...



***

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Sunday, December 04, 2011

This Man From the Ocean



a man walked up to me, covered in brine
he smelled like a fish and sang auld lang syne
when he was finished he spit and he swore
this man from the ocean, not rich and not poor

i asked him if weathermen had messed with his head
if storm fronts and fog banks had left him for dead
he rolled in newspaper and pretended to sleep
his eyes became black and he whined like a creep

i asked him, respectfully, why do clouds burn
and why do the seagulls take all the terns
he opened his mouth and disgorged a hook
"if you want the answers then please buy my book"

a man walked up to me, covered in brine
he smelled like a fish and sang auld lang syne
when he was finished he spit and he swore
this man from the ocean, not rich and not poor

***