We're All Mad Here: (Picture #7) "Gluttony"


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Lecture Language

Body language is more than a cue, More than a wave of the hand or arms. It often speaks as the name begets, Inflicting pain or mouthing charm. It is the instructor telling her class, "I shouldn't work harder than you," While cupping her eyes At the lower lip of their lids. Nosing up. Staring down. Wearing down the academe Who would not dare to make a scene Because the son at home is hungry, And Momma needs to make more money. Baby boy can't milk the breast of Promise and degree for long. He wants the taste of stress and sweat As much as the next helpless child. Maybe that's why Toddlers would crawl through mazes like mice To come upon a few sweet treats Because they are sick of Momma's tired teet. But she will work harder than the voice across the room. The ode to seniority. The air of superiority Which reduces Momma to a sponging mind and pencil. Whose task for now Is looking up longingly at the security That hovers over the...
Read more

The Right Answer

For me, the veranda on mission-style rancheros Is the company at dinner, on sabbath night (and this only works in a decent-sized house, apartments excluded). And little learn'ed are we of rituals Or constellations drawn by ancient words, Supposedly leading me, like Great Spirit To Valhalla version 5. Entrenched in verbal trades; The exchanging of loving words and affirmations, Munitions in the form of praise and home cooking. Not ensconced in the rush of cold water from shower heads that suit tie briefcase days employ. An unshaken slumber, a dream where your hands are dipped in warm soup, so that you might feel the need to pee, But you hold it because you want to hear the punchline to dad's joke, which he repeats for the hundredth time, preparing a practiced chuckle Because it's not the joke that drew my smirk. It's mom's handsome hands which wove the bread I now butter; It's sister's jeering and juggling of complaints about coworkers I...
Read more

Daydreams in the Dark

Thousands of red stars flood the path. White lights take their seats above the flow, watching over the sea of blood and cheering us on through our pilgrimage. We turn the belt and swarm into a massive mob. Bright crimson is mesmerizing from here. They are an endless wave of fire- a mirror facing a mirror- a trail of burning gasoline. My glass-frame seems to be breathing heavily at the sight. The bulbs are so beautiful at night. Music is playing, washing over the drums of my ears, and peeling away at its gentle core. The bass is harmonizing with my heart, and the world is wading over the irises of my pupils. I can almost feel the two senses combining into something indescribable. Like a sensation felt in a dream that, when realized, becomes distant. Great green boards with more bulbs lead the vast number of us. Everyone is rushing past, trying to capture and hold as much light as possible. If we keep going we might reach the moon. There are white stripes on the lanes by our toes, and ...
Read more