Archive for August, 2008

Weight of Responsibility

Posted in wordings on 31 August 2008 by stephen wayne

Just that at moment
Slick spitting sunflower shells
Well, a worldly impressive
Figure happens to stand
In my shade.

Not wanting to impress individually
My will melts over
Margarita ice.

.precise

Posted in wordings on 30 August 2008 by stephen wayne

there is nothing like us.
a cloud on a brilliant day
or a small hen scratching for its
daily meal.

our hours spend quietly with
crystal and effervesces
that spill onto the morning after
quite often.

what regret there is we
introduce to
the science of nature
and let it go at that.

it is really that simple.

storm clouds

Posted in imagery on 28 August 2008 by stephen wayne

strange night

Posted in wordings on 28 August 2008 by stephen wayne

strange night. like the ghost of once was,
or of what could be i suppose.
chalk it up to fog; thick
dense cotton candy.
with its own dementia
and personality.

i sort of hate nights like this
walking in the thick of it,
not being in san fran. and
having to make do with this soup.

it hates this city
but makes the best of the slutty
avenues that exist.

there are no alternatives. because
we all choose to live here
we all smile at the existing light
that shines from recesses
carved out by giants that
have come before.

there lies the hate. the before
not the after, not the to-come.
no. we listen but not to what will be
but what was. and therein lies our fault.

it’s not easy

Posted in random quotes on 28 August 2008 by stephen wayne

“It’s not easy to explain that poverty
can take many forms, and that a
poverty of horizon can seem as paralyzing
as the other kinds.”

-Pico Iyer

mid-stride

Posted in wordings on 28 August 2008 by stephen wayne

“I know what is at stake if you decide to reside with me.” David replies

“And what would this entail?” Gwen’s utters, with her crossed arms, folded legs, and closed mouth.

“It is this: the end of all possible romance; the end to all sexual perhaps,” he sighs. “We would simply be friends. I offer now, my home as a friend.”

“Only Friends?” she replies somewhat suspiciously.

“To offer you my home, now, and expect anything else would lessen how I feel about you. It would cheapen these long months of enjoyment I have experienced in your company, and as a person of substance. I could not devalue my lodgings from a sanctuary for friendship to that of harem, though perhaps this is an incorrect metaphor.” Small droplets of perspiration bead on David’s upper lip collected by a stray tongue unmoved by hope.

“Perhaps I love you. But what comes first is concern derived from friendship and understanding. I love you. But in which respect? Do I love you as an object to be used by my lust? To satisfy my desires? To roll over at mornings’ first light and say ‘again’? No. You are satisfaction. You are comfort draped in satin, wrapped around weary bones. The physical  here is not an issue.”

“Do not deceive me!” Gwen delivers these words with a force that surprises her small frame.

“I do not deceive you.”

“Yet you proclaim love.”

“Love of a friendship let us say. Perhaps over time my love will seep into you past your guarded defenses, absorbed by the gilded skin that adorns your delicate body, maybe even become expected by your long arms and tired head.”

“And should this not occur?”

“I accept any rejection as a term denied by faulty permits.”

Gwen takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling the salty air still lodged in her lungs from an afternoon lying on warm sand.

“You do realize that this conversation is saturating my being. I am content with my lot and seek no earthly change. Why then do you demand answers from questions I cannot possibly reply to?”

“I ask no questions of you. I simply have delivered an invitation to you as one might receive from a close cousin offering afternoon tea.”

David lapses into a slight trance, temporarily dazed by the heat given off by the synthetic firelog burning in the 1930’s era fire pit.

“I ask nothing of you, my dear.” Eyes closed against rejection. “I deter hope for something more profound.”

“And what might this be?” Gwen replies under a stain of remorse.

“The possibility of contentment.”

before dawn

Posted in imagery on 27 August 2008 by stephen wayne