orbit (critique6)

Inspired from "Her Lips Are Copper Wire" by Jean Toomer

Lift off

destination space

erupting fire

tips of fingers face touch

ignoring questions

that swim in the membrane
The everywhere is behind

Can't we just live in the clouds?

looking down between earth

with a different level of sound 

and a dropping impressionable hurt

sparkling within the stars boundaries

Eagle eye for easy routes

we quickly run out

of carbonated sugars

and escape now, in yards

traveling so far

along drifting coasts 

in air conditioned cars

Look!

here we are

we are smart 

cotton candy clouds 

lost in moisture 

perspiration 

plastics pouring out

A decision to be alone

even just for today

everyone stay indoors

Someone predicted rain 

H

heavy hormones have hate hoarded 

half here half home half history

history has habits 

half here half home

hoarded house

heating up

hassle heated hot habits

hoping hate habituates

hopefully having heated head hour

having ha ha ha

healing unhappy hour

hoping havoc holds head high

ha ha ha 

here?

harboring  

having honor

(hot-dogs)

So much depends upon a pantoum (exercise 5)

So much depends upon
finding what you really want
considering other peoples opinions
and going in your desired direction

Finding what you really want
A call for much responsibility
and going in the desired direction
chasing stability

a call for much responsibility
overwhelming feelings
chasing stability
organization is key

overwhelming feelings
considering other peoples opinions
organization is key
chasing stability

Setting a setting (exercise3)

The bumpy pavement, the passing cars, and the mechanical horse helps with an escape. The passing streetlights do not show every bump and crevasse. Leaving you and your horse to "feel it out." Riding at top speed, standing at every bump to ease over it. Being in control has never felt so smooth. Not focused on destination, for now, just balancing on the side of a mountain listening to the crunching and falling of rocks. Running the red light at every intersection. Taking my hands off the bike and extending them out as my hair flows back. I continue pedaling over the bumps and cracks, balancing has become more of a game. After awhile of riding this way, putting my hands back on the horse, I sail down the mountain. Allowing everything to fall in place, I close my eyes. Then my control is suddenly taken away. I lay on the pavement feeling alive but I can not say the same for my horse.

Hungover Hemingway. (critique3)

The Iphone, the laptop, the sprite, the fried chicken, the bed, blanket, pillows, the smell of an early morning spliff and nothingness were all you needed.

The blue-backed notebooks, the two pencils and the pencil sharpener (a pocket knife was to wasteful), the marble-topped tables, the smell of early morning, sweeping out and mopping, and luck were all you needed.

-Ernest Hemingway A Moveable Feast