exploetry - Tumblr blog

[exploetry]

against the wall

blurry-eyed playing

dice

throwing snakes

dim dive in a holy corner

for the remainder of the evening

wearing total outpatient

stumbling, immersing

remainder of the evening

against adjacent fires

laughter and interaction

anywhere I could be

recovery techniques remainder

of the evening maybe

moving sofas for friends

catching crabs for supper

in the lord's lockbox

philosophising

schooners that might sink

remainder of the evening

because of grotesque hauls

one of a kind indiscretions

but still wanting badly to monologue

the mathematics they found

cute in the world

remainder of the evening...

a part of something left over

maybe something was completed

[exploetry]

Excruciatingly keep

something gross

in your pockets

close but, polish it

and deeply look into it

in the mirror

keep some trauma

put it in a chair

that does not wobble

every day will expect you

to scrape your gums of it

every evening alone

before you can sleep

speak to it for a moment

with the accent that demands

it get it's chores done

when planning your next day's attire

wash your hands

[exploetry]

Current bookmark

holding the page

on Perdido Street Station

is a tinted left lense

that fell from a dusty

pair of sunglasses

my son found

on a walking trail

and brought back home

for some reason

[exploetry]

From Trees Fall Folklore

between decibels

unearthing all

at heaft of rebirth

nearly all at earshot

least one hive tunneling

to become sudden

near warming

reaching red thrumming

octaves stirred by degree

stern and sure

to slight and reach aria

throwing cadence to fissure

to the sandman's stone

dead seventeen

in sudden dialect

since salt exploration

cup closely hands

the outcry might ring temperature

we can't all be eaten at once

must not sleep

must swarm others

[exploetry]

80′s Halloween

Every Octobers’  floorboard

creaks shadow 

proclaiming inches

porchlights add flames

to flex our chests at amock

would squelch or squee

every October

to fill its belly 

busted after night fall 

to get rusted nails 

round that sweet tooth

those fingers gloved

the vivid wanting 

to be cut out of cloth

swagger, hairspray, and neon 

gotten from somewhere 

didn’t come home 

til’ Ben Coopers’ werewolf was cracked 

and tattered from savegry

til the pillowcase filled 

every October still loved me

all red and gory with candy

[exploetry]

Arthur spun a coin

       fill a cup and wave 

over our shoulders at something new

run the Louvre

      small fingers tracing of

 light along one tall window pane

 briefly chiaroscuro

intently  

   watching your feet

inside above 

cinammon dust            breathe

       & outwardly 

batting precious lashes

thinking and.....,     seven stories below 

rods and romantic kisses 

cones and clarinets

and that which makes of daylight orange

even Ana Karina and

the whole Manhattan colourful

Could spin us in footsteps

see us dance 

a band of outsiders

throwing darts at rain

[exploetry]

Imogene electric red-haired cursive

Witness did she enough sunrise

the dusk, the gracias 

must’ve danced 

and only told the train conducter

nightfall with teeth

rhapsody some high 

magician of Summer 

and fried catfish 

and garden strawberries

in a big Lincoln Towncar

a hand written letter of a lady

[exploetry]

“Didn’t make it top heavy,

we didn’t all want the same thing.

So, it allowed us all to think a little broader

and feel a little broader

because, uh... we were experiencing

other peoples experiences.”

                                                    -Willem Dafoe

[exploetry]

Tilted down the stairwell

in a halo

jar under trickle

tattered nook of a window

whispering ribbons

dregs chroma and drain

to crimp belly and toe

percolate iridescence 

towards The Gates

sauntering to crease echo

cellar feathers splitting

worn-well shoes

stuttering now at the

stolid thrumming heel

between fumes of gravitas

spattering color

oblique out wild ferrule

ink hanging

doing suffering swagger

still upright mythology 

saluted cheered

 no orphan left splayed alone

paintbrush bristles thrum

on canvas crimp 

belly and toe and swim

[exploetry]

[exploetry]

Super fragile realistic

expedited doses

white knuckles edging

gripping peppered black abysses

blood flow holding wake

the best of trauma’s stitches

traitors to thy self get shadows faced by witches

[exploetry]

By 1983

The girls of sugar babylon

spent time dreaming

Then Teardrops exploded

Face to face red

lipstick champagne bottles

empty

A full library of Valley 

Of The Dolls at 37 copies

Spat on her is love at first sight

This was not another crush

There was a problem in fact

He had a fiance

By 1983 rock & Roll

[exploetry]

[exploetry]

[exploetry]

Win A Switchblade Comb

Best mud in any county 

tangles boots

thick, ample fairgrounds

pungent with old factory hues 

manure and Marlboro butts 

doctored Jekyll’s kaleidoscope

locusts yawning on and on and on and,... yawn

jackwagon’s grift

barking straw gypsy 

Hydes’ galore heckling neon sugar

“Barracuda” blarring

“Hey squirt, got what it takes?”

addle up to the Himalaya

to the sheets trying 

to surf bulls

on shit speakers

sure, she stepped in it 

watch your step, a carousel 

universe of smoke 

calligraphy lost in bad topographic

cherry Coke Dopamine 

tarot spread full of tread

jungled folded over brown paper 

into the hall of mirrors 

enough to drudge the tower

never fast, just June bug 

and kiss her on the lips

maybe just tall 

with enough bite 

between teeth 

to win a switchblade comb

to Georgia shaked out, dusted in Jacksonville, sugared up

between the Quarter on a trampoline

wrecked enough to a train

In Biloxi, if your’e gamblin’ drinks are free...

[exploetry]

Jeff Buckley will forever Mmmhhhmmhmmm...

This blanket is warm

this body will never be safe from harm and even music

is endless and even

and even though I’ve heard a whole

bunch of music

from so many different places

and fallen in love countless times

there’s still something

I guess it’s just called freedom...

I was captured

It was my Mother and Father

It was the best thing in my life

When I was a kid

Grandmother had the guitar in hopes that someone would play it

but it sat there

but then I found it and I strummed on it

but mostly I just put my marbles on it

in Los Angeles I was about 17, 18, 19 ,,,,,,

it’s a cold and broken hallelujah

to be worth my salt

“I would be a musician”

so i did

the physical imperative

to find out exactly, exactly

what had come from in my spirit to make music

“some tune will come down on me first”

or I’ll sit, ...absorb ....

some thing my hands need to do

just feel this and then I’ll go

[exploetry]

It Doesn’t Come From Nothing

It does come from somewhere

when you hit an age

it doesn’t come from nothing

and learn the value of your own face’s asymmetry while gazing into a mirror

inquisitive reflection in the stead of a portrait painted by a piano

shows like hammers the shadow and dents that piled over time

lines cresting outward for your own psychic eyes to read between

speaking under light the gratification of violence and consequence

It does come from somewhere

when you hit an age

it doesn’t come from nothing

If you lived, and stayed put, and immersed yourself

stayed whole somehow having an awkward distance to the poetry of your soul

does questioning arise? do ever benefits take a hold

can you stare to the North and filter out noise

will a vantage point ever reveal itself that hesitates to cut your tongue

It does come from somewhere

when you hit an age

it doesn’t come from nothing

sometimes subdivision asks you to live so many places at once

too many areas of your thoughts for sale for too many prices unfair

will a spectrum of colors get ever bored and blend to another

will you spit and squelch and stomp it out

and finally let the wind inside

It does come from somewhere

when you hit an age

it doesn’t come from nothing