Sepulchral-Roses

We live in a city of smokestacks and umbrellaheads. A city split in two and turned upside down. A city dazed and unsteady on sixteen million feet, six feet under and darker than that. We live in a city that slept for the first time in nearly a century. A city of people confused and bemused and infused with "what can I what shall I what must I do now?" It's a city that's hurting and breathing and fishing and wishing and laughing and living and waiting to wake up. We live in a state of huddling and listening. Watching as the resilient basketball hoop in the driveway snaps in two as the trees behind dance in an insane tango, a physically impro

Assign the equation a variable (variability: life, chance, consequence) They just happen to use "u" (are lost) Eightscore eight days hath passed and not once has x (marks the spot) been found Take the derivative (from whence you were derived) and divide by zero ("u" or one of the failures you've met) And your equation, your ph(r)ase has now exploded, what have yo("u") done? NEVER divide by zero before you reach the limit (the sky, perhaps?) What, you get it now? Well, when's the wedding?

I'm waiting for that first summer rain: The one that cools as it cleans the dust from the streets, gurgles into the drain. The leaves dance along with the robust, prophetic, raindrops fall: dirt to mud. I'm waiting for those summer rains, such that will make you believe in it all: There exists in that moment, no touch of reality – what a lovely squall! And yet there exists no fantasy. I'm waiting for that wondrous raining, that makes both one and the very same: lackadaisical Monet painting the beauteous fairies' hidden fame That unopposed freedom it will bring… I'm waiting for that first s   u