Impulse and Impulse ContrOL

I'm huddled unceremoniously at the cold computer in my parent's home, rounding up my shoulders trying to reach the keyboard which seems about seven inches too high. Tom Waits is singing about how my body will decompose to the score of atonal drums and saws. My oldest brother is walking through the door. Incense is burning. Water is heating for a pot of tea.

It's been several days since I've been able to post any writing. Work is too busy. Internet is hard to find on the weekend. I don't know what I'm learning, but I'm learning it.

The lake outside the window is frozen in big, cracking sheets which sometimes groan and shift. Geese come and go, speaking of Michaelangelo. The light of the sky goes from grey to black. The lights in the parking lot shine a stunted orange. The cat is using his best green eyes to stare at me.

Labels: , , , , ,


Blogger graculus said...

you paint a wonderful word picture today... i can see it in my minds eye. beautiful.

21/3/05 18:01  
Blogger Worldgineer said...

Am I on [k]'s poetry page? (looks around, confused)

21/3/05 18:18  
Blogger dag said...

I think if you introduced the cat to the geese the day might get a little more interesting.

22/3/05 10:22  
Blogger k_sra said...

good tip, dag. : )

I'm planning a move, World, to moveable type with my brother. Blogger's addiction to slow editing already has my goat. I don't want to lose any sheep over it.

Thanks, grump.

22/3/05 11:34  
Blogger Lukas Abrhm said...

if you move, deary, lemme know...i'm around..just tired and sore. happy and bored. reading the lines that were left for me to store....away, safe, keeping proverbs in my veins. may smiles reach your eyes.

23/3/05 02:03  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Web Counters