Monthly Archives: March 2014

Metamorphosis Hurts

Cells burning as they change
From one substance to another,
The New reacts as foreigner-strange
While all The Old gets smothered

The pain of the day’s demise
Darkening once before the morn
One black cry as the familiar dies
And the unknown gets reborn.

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Bricolage

There is a wildness in me
An ocean in a bottle
With a moist cork, I see
I stand a suppressed model
Of practicality,
Revving for full throttle
But for the wake of brutality
And all forgot, all
Sacrificed to creativity,

But there is something wild in me
And still it grows, and still I thirst
For open fields, and free
Paints, and notes, and words
And time and space to feed
What be the best or worst
Or wildest escapee-
All unheard, and all unversed,
La Pensée Sauvage will be.