the asthetic universe

what i find beautiful
is moments in time
and time itself.
how time with someone
can turn into love.
how sun,dirt,water and seeds
can turn into a garden of vegtables.
how and infant can become an old man.
how certain words spoken
can change everything.
time to heal
time to grow
time in which to learn.

Me, what do i do?

I burn bridges,
hidE from death
obviously waitinG,
patiently, afraid.

I heaR things
knowing they haven'T
been said.
See thingS
that aren't there
iN broad daylight.

I turN on the radio
whilE the coffee brews
thE televison too
in casE the doorbell rings.

ME, what do i dO?
I forsake love
foR loneliness,
touch,
for longinG.
Health for drink
hopE for fear
and theN some.

I believe
that anythinG is possible
for everyonE
but me.
I don't change enougH
changing everything
daily.
SticK to the superficial,
voiD, safe.

What would goD think
if he kneW
if he were reaL.

I watch time pasS
blinking,
wondering where
it'S all gone.
MinuteS, seconds
painfully drawn ouT.
I dream of sleeP
someday
and quick fixeS
logic out the windoW.

I live as iF i believed
men didn'T have hearts
or anyonE else who cared foR
me.
I stay sick
anD dark
telling everyone arounD me to grow
prospeR, flurish.

A better questioN might be,
WHAT THe HELL ARE YOU DOINg?
WHAT, IN HEAVENS NAMe, ARE YOU GOING To DO
to fix thiS mess?
pick up thesE peices
TAKE OUT YOUr TRASH FOR GOOD
livE alive.

Somebody please
challengE me
and stick arounD to see.

November

In about one minute
i will have no one to talk to
one nuclear minute
I have been spoiled
days of petting
feedings and wine
thrown onto a freight train with
the grain
in a bag of feathers
the books are in the backyard
with the old kitchen table
and bags of wet black molded leaves
In about one minute
everything
will have been fleeting
a memory.

not sisters

like young girls
unable to grow
up
little voices spoken
to in that way
not playing their
grownup games
afraid of the buying power
they don't have
visible discomfort in the presence
of parental figures
representatives sent
reminding them
of where they ever stand
in the middle
of nowhere
blinded by the lights
of responsibiliy
dragging the heavy chains
freedom's chant lured
them into

blatch house

Bauline, Newfoundland

dis place is nuts b'y