this door is an affront to my sensesimagine Adam, seeing in vision, that which would befall man
brought by disobedience,
how his heart must have ached.
– Hoc Scripsi
November 27, 2010
Magpie #42
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or whom it was for
the memory only contained the sudden
image
from an antique shop
or estate sale
it was forgotten now
where or when
but the unexpected frailty,
the image,
weak knee’d her
stalled staggering
at this moment held
helpless, sightless,
merely astonished at
the wetness of her cheek
falling into gardenias lain
on the bed,
her robe slipping open,
she turned her body
toward the open window.
– Hoc Scripsi
Image from Magpie #42
not my best effort – but there it is.
November 19, 2010
another magpie write from #41
in general, we don’t speak.
passing fitfully, neatly drawn out.
the photograph
on the wall
strays the story to length
but I don’t speak of it
directly.
indifferently.
aberrantly it hangs,
an hour off,
two hours.
witnesses the coffee
cigarettes, alcohol
women
dirty dishes
and we
gathering adjacent to
its unique
(all evidence against)
shared frailty, cannot
be brought
to words beyond
the manual.
– Hoc Scripsi
image from Willow’s Magpie #41
November 17, 2010
Magpie #41
it had been seven hours since the moment of clarity and now we questioned it entirely. a moment of obscurity – and still it had been seven hours since.
I loaded my gun and walked amiably toward the back bedroom where the typewriter was kept and once entered sat down to feel out a confession of sorts but only to be read by my god or therapist. some words crashed out effortlessly while others necessated manual extraction via a syringe into fingertips.
the last time we were here my ulnar nerve was nicked and the sensation fled out of one and a half fingers.
now we allowed it to escape though minute burning forced our eyes to watch and our brain to repudiate its association.
here, the faces of clocks tell no hour. hands strength to point forced into submission by gears and precise Japanese clockwork.
and faces painted adorn walls never lit.
image found at Magpie tales prompt #41.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 