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matt r Apr 9
yesterday i watched a comet sail right over the handrail of calmess i watched it again eddy the starry pool of stomach acid & i realised that is just what comets do it is such a thing to realise it is another thing to feel it hot in your gullet not burning white or red but more a perfect green like the perfect green you see behind your eyes i think know where itll go too ive let this comet pass by two or three times before and its nowhere near here it wont destroy any ecosystem or create any new flame itll just taper past again&again&again losing a little bit of mineral again&again&again until it is little more than a rock. then again i was told never to focus on what i can fit only in the palm of my hand.
matt r Apr 9
soundless scape
(take me to Her)
travel,traipse
cross starful terror
candescently sing
(one last goodbye)
She'll be thinking
Him, not Her&I
matt r Apr 7
o holy glow,
                  your pitch
eared knell.
                  the blue ish
halo hooped through lobe.

what do you call these "larger
deaths?" weighted deaths
                    /important deaths?

you ring these
deaths 'hind
eyes & throat

to samaritans &
moonwanderers?

no. so quiet as such like
a second post-homily

& therein lies the body, see;
   the rotting hipocrisy
          of expiration

                    ...

therein lies the flowery
bigot, or death as no
       inferno for
               consequence.
matt r Apr 5
we love,
in spans of poetry
,the looseness of day
& settle intoer
counterpart
with open fingered
grace

waking brilliant light
 -not real yet-  but
no time away
from your flexing
chimera.               wake
,you,   new medusa
,aching & shallow

but love,
in spans of poetry
,the aching of day
matt r Apr 4
in square retaliation;
the sunhot riot against
repose!
men draft their perfect
                         manifestos
to platonic jeers & "i know
& yes buts-"
                       seething melt
         ed jaws clenched shut.

more stop, there's more than
quiet anger. there's chatters
natters  less tireless flattering
words; true joy is bred
                  here on tarmac beds...

bell boys & horn heads & maraca
shoe sole songs,     carabiner cords
& their unknown composers jangle
walk the way to fame! let but spoken
time unravel her silent duskful flame

in square retaliation,
riot the moon reclaim.
a 5 minute one
, set all too soon
matt r Apr 1
dear you,

it'll probably take this a long long time to reach you but isn't that just the idea? nothing is consistent here - moments bend & weave so it feels like each blink takes a lifetime. yesterday a thought took four months to form and i almost used it without thinking.

i'm stretched out on the grass now & i'd love to explain how anyone meets anyone at all. is love some long blue thread bringing them together? i've seen what people do with it - sure they make it into something pretty but it isn't what it's there for.

i tried to explain a concept like us to a bumblebee but i didn't really get anywhere. i said "wouldn't you like something like a portal? you could be at the next flower before you know it." i said portal instead of a wormhole because i knew bees didn't understand physics but he buzzed off anyway. i suppose the fun might be in the looking & finding but i've been given flowers before & it sure as hell meant more than picking one myself. maybe he was just happy with what he'd already found.

now i see magpies everywhere but they can't all be you right? i've always thought they were but maybe i'm just too ******* in my long blue thread. i suppose that's human though - i've just always valued the idea of tying something tangible to a concept that isn't really bound by atoms. the idea that this is all meant to be, y'know?

if you look hard enough you'll see them everywhere. sometimes all it takes is one & the thought that everything has to mean something. that's it though - i guess if it were real then you'd be here by now. maybe if you wait long enough you'll miss your chance. maybe if i look long enough a magpie is just a magpie.

p.s.

on the walk here i crossed a bridge - it wasn't celestial or anything but it was high enough off the ground to wonder if i stepped off how much of a joke i could get out my mouth before i hit the clouds. i couldn't really shake that feeling of bending & weaving after that. funny isn't it.

write soon
matt r Mar 25
full-hooded but
not               half
a gleam
        
         an "i know
                   &
                 you
                  don't"

isn't it mysery?
the knowing &
the knowing &
not even doing.

i know.. i should
  formulate
    something.
      really...    like

a song. but not
even the air
can formulate
something
quite so
romantic
enough,

try       write
nonsense like a
kiss.        take
each flavour
of each word
& press it
hard
       against
      ur cheek.

sap.up the warm
meaning like a
thirsty flower,you

blossom even
            if you want

i nor the midjune
would ever dare
to      comment.
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