sharp angled in a tri pattern shape
labourous thought doth give form to man.


if the silence were a beat
it would be the slowest tempo'd beast conducted.
an imp would never hold a dancer in such frozen state of locomotion.

the table is slivered with painful crevices
and like a painter I see the black and muddy brown
interweaving in streaks of firework behavior.

that man wears shoes that have dragged through fields
and he is proud of the mud he's left in foot prints
across the vintage linoleum floor.

sharp angled.

in a tri pattern shape.


labourous thought doth give form to man.

10/27/2006

Posted on 10/27/2006
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