Ill met by moonlight
the curious weaver
sets her beckoning traps
she moves gracefully
letting her newly spun tapestry
guide her
towards the other end of the wooden doorway
pulse
movement
the web shakes whilst entangling its first victim
its mistress continues her delicate dance
as the other side is reached
she shrieks
as a shadow-hidden creature
much bigger then herself
tears her and her beautiful work
down
down
down
June Gromis
June Gromis
Hour 8.
Howl by Allen Ginsberg
“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked…”
Walking through the thick woods I
franticly saw
unconcealed the
true naked form of myself best
described as a ugly mongrel awakening only hatred in peoples minds
I followed the trail of
fear and sorrow my
haunting had left me generations
of and destroyed
them by
dispelling my madness
and setting aside my starving
and hysterical
core at last I was no longer naked
Hour 6.
the ragged cliffs
the ever-changing face of mother aqua
the pearls of her tears
caressed by the sunlight
the ever-changing face of mother aqua
the pearls of her tears
caressed by the sunlight
the smoky canyon,
blanketed briefly by mist
released to the cold touch
of a young breeze
blanketed briefly by mist
released to the cold touch
of a young breeze
the uniform fields
of infant barley
slowly raising their crowned heads
to greet the early sun
of infant barley
slowly raising their crowned heads
to greet the early sun
Hour 5.
oh you silent pebble folk
Hour 4.
oh gods oh gods will you receive me now?
my body broken and my mind torn
my once peaceful existence drowned in the epiphany of madness.
my body broken and my mind torn
my once peaceful existence drowned in the epiphany of madness.
oh gods oh gods will you receive me now?
my Facade ripped away
to reveal my heart, drowning in blood.
my Facade ripped away
to reveal my heart, drowning in blood.
oh gods oh gods will you receive me now?
my firm belief reduced to doubt
fearing the falsehood of a million faceless deities, all promising salvation.
my firm belief reduced to doubt
fearing the falsehood of a million faceless deities, all promising salvation.
oh gods oh gods will you receive me now?
I dismiss you from my mind
for I am helpless in the ruins of my home, as I depart this hellish realm.
I dismiss you from my mind
for I am helpless in the ruins of my home, as I depart this hellish realm.
Hour 2.
he walks through the rust
by the sand worn
tin box houses
with a canvas
like a white beacon amongst the
blizzard of yellow and yellow turned reds and blues and grays
he comes to a halt
at the brick end
of his venture
the canvas binds into the scorched red
then paint
a fury of fresh colors enters the air
landing violently on the canvas
no sand penetrates them
they move freely
like the juice of a tomato
like the stain of grass
all foreign to the alleys
in which they meet
a yellow
much brighter then the
arcane sand
hits by the mans hand
now he feels the fabric of the canvas
resonating
colors
now meeting and parting
and conceiving
by the dry leather textured brush-like
hand
of their conductor
swift work
no borders
no chains
the paint drips and
marks
beyond its once pure
confines
till the wall is cloaked
from intrusion
sand grains fall inside
with no effect on the magnificent creation.
the creator turns and slowly trudges
back and back
once again concealed in the
unforgiving sand.