workshop for thursday

The Rebellion of the Leopard

We paid the check and we sallied out without incident
as we walked towards everything outside in rain
the girl with the impression of Aaron
the trousers of the leopard.

"you are so as, in the news or something"
Its nasal voice of the south of Jersey did that my skin crawls.
"that shit that it presses so. A business is right that you also know.
He is everything on the money, they does not say the truth unto him."
He watched it with an expression that shouted scorn simultaneously and the diversion.
"please spare the details" that he said.

The diversion fell immediately of its face. Its lip was stirred up in synch
with its eyebrow whereas it was dazzled in her.
"Ugh" rolled towards outside as if the second nature
"is rebelling so trustworthy of you?"

And reasons raged ahead in the middle of stiffled sobs and the unequal breathing
and she looked extinguished as if their feet burned simultaneously
and buried in the concrete lip of Aarons still was stirred up
and a cigarette maintained were put too much firmly towards
outside whereas we watched her disappear by always


In the Hall of the Mountain String Band


all is silent with the exception of labored breathing
and thunderous appluase from the mighty zeus

out pops a screaming child
born into the world screaming in silence
and asleep within moments
sleeping the sleep of lions fed

in silence the music grows
ten years since the day
and a soft tune that reminds the crowd
of necessary moments of silence
when the calamity was too great to bear
and moments of blaring triumph
when the mundane silences where to loud hear

the guitar came in first with sweeping and subtle melody
to warm its listeners like hot apple cider on a cool falls day

then the bass slinks in at frequencies so low and sparse
its impossible to imagine what that bass had in mind

the rhythm of bongos and cymbals in the distance
signal the oncoming war, the oncoming music of eternity

and ever so gently the mandolin sweeps in
like a lonesome breeze across the back of a sweltering neck

in the scalding desert where stagnant air and silence is king
the music grows when the silence is patient
and the cacaphony waits for its moment to strike
like lightning that touches down but once
and never again

and one more random thought

Ok, what was the color, make and model?
It's cranberry and...
Cranberry's something you eat, son, your car was red.