Colors series: cinereous

oppressed and set into motion by the same hand-

bronzed, with long fingers-

struck and caressed by the same voice:

the context consistent, the intonation capricious;

carved and stabbed by the same true knife-

with a handle of steel, battered and dented;

and looked upon with love 

and watched despairingly 

by the same good pair of eyes. 

random bits I don't remember writing, all dated nov. 2013

these things were supposed to mean nothing to me but instead

pencils

the corners warp into a roll

and all the new teeth manage

to gradually misalign. 

all the circles

I try to draw are ovals and

all my squares

are tilted and difficult. 

I'd rather be on the roof dissolving leather in acid and pretending to be unrestrained

-both grungy and credible at once- 

but I can never get to the roof,

since all the ladders I try to draw

are rickety

and unreliable