…getting bluer

standing still alone
some empty place singing low surrounds
the cords to then still linger, lightly,
snagging on my jumper as I turn to see

fractured pretty silly pictures
drawings and dreamings and such
chronologically dim things that sparkle and fly;

getting bluer as the coldness of this room grips and bites
this waiting room
of stale ends
and fag ends
and half price life

and I’m not so sure I like
this place, this person
that I seem to be

But this dream, this falling
fast whisper of forgotten fragments

can dance and spin and sing
as it is split
and ruptured now
by love
by life;

one word is all it takes; and I awake
and I remember.

-jka 2005-06