Mind of a brutal Warlock

By pen_dragon - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Everything Else

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Biblical.

He can feel how the rain feels. His overcoat is chilly on him, the collar of his plaid shirt soft and stiff at once. The rain has made his hair curl, each slippery tendril tipped with a singular crystal drop. he smiles,but his eyes aren't happy, they have channeled too long, and kind of still do,he... Sign in to see full entry.

Glow.

Last night the winter moonlight fell in agitated unlikely brightness an early stripe, bent but not quite crescent a slice of pale-bright-irridescent crawled over your pillow touched the tip of your nose and all your valentine mouth I leaned and whispered like the willow "Forevermore"...and kissed a... Sign in to see full entry.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Reinforcements.

I am an only child.Lots of people are.Some belong to parents that never wanted children and find their only offspring to be a blessing or a happenstance, or a curse.Depending on one's parental climate growing up singularly, one may feel king or queenish, pawnish, unloved, too loved, etc etc.Those... Sign in to see full entry.

A Cardinal Before Winter.

Bright white November hangs in square portraits on my black rectangular walls Edward Hopper brushstrokes lend pale isosceles dappling's at the turn of a tall hour Diamond hard rain begins to tick off the glass panes emphasizing the slow thick tick of the cow-full coffee pot;looking to be drained... Sign in to see full entry.

Occlusion.

The light is coming in the un shuttered window Is she looking out? Or more deeply inside? A silhouette and a shadow do not offer much in the way of inclusion much the opposite and quite blissfully on purpose. Should the artery of shrinking light be entirely self-serving the deliberate aneurysm is... Sign in to see full entry.

Grandpa grows brain food.

My grandpa was a yankee farmer.Bald as an eagle, with the slightest wisps of shock white hair above his ears when I came to know him, bright blue eyes that beheld and recorded the wiles of what seemed to me, eons of New England weather.The man was a walking barometer.He grew his awesome vegetables... Sign in to see full entry.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Breeze.

She leaves Barenaked Lady albums on when she leaves the house grabs her lunch and I linger here in sweet word tangles and breezes of.. (today vanilla extract tomorrow fresh cut grass the next impossible sweet pulp paperback) I am a walking papercut when she returns from building this castle of cards... Sign in to see full entry.

The Star Man.

My mother was teaching me the fine art of wishing on stars.Little gaseous blips of light in the endless black of night.Teeny diamond to large eyes."I wish I may,I wish I might,have this wish I wish tonight."I leaned over the back of the couch and looked out the tall window.I had nothing to wish... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

The Nothing.

My brains told me that tears of grief serve only the living provider of such benign diamonds. Again and again that wisdom hailed down from my thoughts and again and again my eyes ignored the blatant claim of the perverse, bleak business of it all.The tears fell in quiet patient trickles, or raged in... Sign in to see full entry.

Emily Re-Visited.

New England is outside the window outside the shut door beyond the hedge A girl sits at a kitchen table with "So Lonely" by the Police on a small transistor she sings along even though she's not.. really. She is thinking of self-publishing because it's better than not publishing at all "I mean..."... Sign in to see full entry.

Headlines (What is this?)