Monday, January 30, 2012

Faces (41)

(41) His eyes were reduced to two blackened half crescent shapes by the light's angle, a dark tired line underneath his eye sockets, his cheek bones diminished to two shadowy stains hidden under a sloping layer of fat that grew from his neck to his chin, crawling to cover the remaining top of his head, only a goatee of graying hair outlining the last contours of his jaws.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Night Poem: 231112

Midnight outside the Tesco Express on the Kingsland Road

Les Pensées (42)

Artaud danced along the room moved by the uncontrollable motion of love, until he crushed unto both his knees exhausted and in the realization that his greatest passion had just eluded him.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Night poem: 180112

In a yellow memoryless room
Beneath the ghosts of underwater voices, the
Coackroach creak of my neighours
Cars come not as a river tonight, but
Stopped and hollow as screams against the window

An empty wine bottle
And a dead radio
A vase to piss in
And loose thoughts on civilisation
And of progress

Then above me, the voices fall silent
Somewhere beyond their howls lies sleep
And in the morning darkness
And in the evening there is the room again
Yellow and alone

Monday, January 16, 2012

Faces (40)

(40) His scruffy red hair, once a darker blond, had formed lumps like bewildered snakes. His pockmarked cheeks had deformed from the scourging sun. His nose poked at everyone, crowned by a jewel of a wart that dangled at the tip. His eyes shyly turned away.

Faces (39)

(39) Her rosy cheeks shine in the dim light, her blond, wavy hair on fire with star dust, a tired line under the joyous mischief that hides in her dark eyes, the same mischief dances on her smiling lips, the wool of her sweater tickles my chin, the inducing smell of coconut tea.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Les Pensées (41)

Artaud sat on the waterside and admired the play of light and shadow on the water surface before him, reflecting the naked limbs of two girls swimming toward him. One looked pure and divine, the other pensive and keen. Artaud picked a flower and threw it in the water, following it with his gaze as it drifted away on the ripples following the two girls pass him.