Sunday, December 11, 2011


Voices scramble thoughts all over the forehead
Like a kool aid rash from hair dying.
What can you tell from fallen locks
Collected and wrapped in prayer flags
Storied at the feet of marriage storks?

Will they take on some meaning?
The silly looks, smiles and smirks reveal nothing.
A black toque hides,
The altar carefully kept to honor
Nothing less than a life of sand and ash.

I am tired, beloved, of opening my heart
To the want of eyes,
Vibrating fully into empty space
Marking time.
I rub the darkness alone, here, under
the cracking plaster of the cold. 

:: Note :: ... tired ... 

Saturday, December 10, 2011

four recurring dreams

I am lost in a foreign city. Usually the city is  in a state of ruin. Though I meet people from my long ago past am unable to find my way & never make it to the airport. The panic wakes me up.

My university degree is revoked as it is discovered I neglected to hand in a required essay.

My car is broken into and ransacked.

I'm mortally sick unable to die.

:: Note :: ... after a four year absence Oblivio: Stories and such by Michael Barrish returns ...  in the early days of blogging before twitter & facebook and the whole notion of social media he was a favourite ... his quirky humour & wit, clean & minimal look with what I believed to be a deeper sense of purpose inspired me  ...  the reason I love a good rss reader is a subscription may lie dormant for years & suddenly come to life ... as in the past  Four Recurring Dreams  inspired this post of mine ... I missed you Michael ...  much like the etymology of Oblivio & much like Forgetfulness from Idiotic Hat: Tales told by an Idiot ...