Like Bricks

Like Bricks

I like to put words to images.  
To make noise is to vibrate is to create
A family crossing the street
I assign their thoughts to my head
accent on the usual. within my vacuum
footsteps fall silently.
Shadows burst
into fantasy.
Black and White become bullet casings and
spattered targets. Lifting the truth like a
burden or maybe
the bumblebee coming to rest on the sacred.
Resistance lives in all things, carves a night in your chest where
it
hangs a sign and leaves a broom.
Real courage is found
in the not resisting resistance. Traffic sounds are no longer
buried in the trees

brambles of branches tumbleweed through thin winter air.

varicose skies wonder why

mental vibration strung up a cataclysm of
moth balls like bricks through your window

I like to put words to images.
To make noise is to vibrate is to create
A family crossing the street
I assign their thoughts to my head
accent on the usual. within my vacuum
footsteps fall silently.
Shadows burst
into fantasy.
Black and White become bullet casings and
spattered targets. Lifting the truth like a
burden or maybe
the bumblebee coming to rest on the sacred.
Resistance lives in all things, carves a night in your chest where
it
hangs a sign and leaves a broom.
Real courage is found
in the not resisting resistance. Traffic sounds are no longer
buried in the trees

brambles of branches tumbleweed through thin winter air.

varicose skies wonder why

mental vibration strung up a cataclysm of
moth balls like bricks through your window