When I close my eyes
I see a dark window. It is bobbing and swirling in my eyes. I go towards it, or rather it goes towards me. It does not open. It is blank.
I see a beach ball fading like a traffic light, one color over the other. I see it bouncing, overturning, joviulating. It jokes along its path without a punchline.
I see a raindrop fall, long and wistfull on its plunge towards the earth like a razor to pierce the air and hit kersplat!- on the ground.
I see a tree, stony and moss-ridden, standing proud at the front of a forest. And there is no saw sharp enough to fell its thick trunk.
I see a beach ball fading like a traffic light, one color over the other. I see it bouncing, overturning, joviulating. It jokes along its path without a punchline.
I see a raindrop fall, long and wistfull on its plunge towards the earth like a razor to pierce the air and hit kersplat!- on the ground.
I see a tree, stony and moss-ridden, standing proud at the front of a forest. And there is no saw sharp enough to fell its thick trunk.
posted by Tongue-tied Lightning at 11:26 AM
5 Comments:
I bet I know a saw..
THIS saw baby
i think i liked this more than everyone else, but here's why: the dark window was some prenatal state, the bouncing ball the jubilence of childhood, the raindrop the plunge-towards-death of adult life, and the tree is either the gracious memory of you or perhaps just the stubborn gravestone which commemorates your passed and paltry existence - depending on your level of optimism.
Now we see the world as through a glass darkly.
The moment of ecstasy that used to come when laughter replaced your tears after bumping your head on a table.
You jump to another platform, and - realization charges shoot through your nervous system from below. You plummet through irrevocable reconcilation and hear so god-awfully loudly the wailing screams of the threads cutting above you.
I am a tree and you were the changing breeze before a rainfall.
I actually liked it, but I didn't really get it at first, so I sent the saw thing. Thinking about it now, I think the problem is that life is either pure physical brutality or wistful abstraction, and whichever way we look at it, we cannot speak about it coherently. Nonetheless, of course, I really don't believe that - so thanks for explaining it, I'm getting so stupid in Prague.
besides, god playing with barbies
haha, good stuff, salmon admiral
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