Trapped in the definition of his interior,
he had become an invisible thing.

In moods deeper than dark ebony
repetitive folding and unfolding of nefarious reasons
pushed him to step outside his restricted vision.

Lost perhaps?
Or provisionally eclipsed?

A luminous slash hinged his door,
the cicatrice between brooding paralysis and explicit dreams.

............

Here on the ledge,
teetering on the cusp of obscurity and mountains blinding peak,
his sight catches a net
streaming from an open window-
billowing freedom.

A metalic thread glitters through him,
its coppery tang branching across clenched fibres
igniting his fingers, his tongue.

A mute cloud disperses.
He stands in the presence of a revelation.

Through the smoke of his eyes
he steps off the threshold
plunging into burnished sun,
his head incandescent with foreign scents.



copyright © Caroline Grace 2012

How long the rumbling chord ebbs on
irregular in dull augment
of endless streaming green and brown
An audience to long ­hours spent

The soperific drone plays for  
a tired dance of ****­fting limbs
What contrast with the streaming track
That blurred m­etalic weaving score

Then all at once the score divides
The cond­uctor's signal brass  
The final movement slows and so
the blur t­akes form of brick and grass

The orchestra all rise as one
and b­ow below the luggage racks
A final clunk, the doors release,
the ­journey ends and life unpacks.

Clouds crash
like surf
across metalic grey skies

They say that wisdom comes with age
that knowledge slowly worms it's way into your mind
that each day brings forth new ideas, new connections, new moments
that molds your not fully developed brain into a somewhat more stable shape.

I have moved another year forward
now have 22 years under my belt.
22 years of jam packing tidbits and statistics
from places I've never been,
and yet that aged wisdom still escapes me. ​
I feel as though I have Benjamin Buttoned myself
to a time before I ever existed,
an empty chasm of isolation where asking a question
feels even more difficult than finding an answer.

These pieces of myself are falling away
as easily as my baby teeth fell from my mouth
that metalic taste faded like the edges of a picture
labeled summer '03.

My eyes are crinkled,
lines mark my cheeks whenever I smile,
and my mind is fogged with the things I feel
I don't know.

you're
crying
and as you walk
down the dimly
lit glass hallway
the faces on the walls
wave
in your breeze
of sadness and
iron oxide tears.

every surface in
your mind is
covered
in a thick layer of
concrete dust
and you wonder
how long before
your nose
takes a dive
sneezing
too often
to breathe.

there is clay
everywhere
and you can't see
the cracks
between your
knuckles
under the
thick layer of
thought.

as far as art
departments go
you're not feeling
so creative
painted or
charcoal
it doesn't matter
when there is more
brown paper offered
to you every
time you believe
you've failed.

would you believe me
if i told you that a
newspaper and a pair
of old blue eyes
reminded me
and maybe you too
that there is somebody
out there
who actually
cares.

press that
thumbtack
into the wall
slowly
pin down
everything
you've tried to
forget
and avoid
stabbing your
finger into
the perforated
abused and
continually
rotated
corkboard.

you're not
wirebound
anymore
i promise
only your
entwined metalic
thoughts.

Today the air is enlightened -
Rich in velvet echoes,
Urging me to embrace the outside.
Where colours play loud
And I was plain white.

... the sun looked frightened.

I breathed the life around
Felt the happiness, but not mine -
A dense silence folowed me behind,
I heard voices - "It's time to hide"
One gaze and they became white.


I looked ahead and hills have awakened.
Timeless monsters shove the sun away,
The life around was dreadfully shaken
My skin is evaporating - my feet sway;

I looked down and my legs were white smoke -
My hair is dancing all over the sky,
Breathing isn't necessary here - invoke
The soul I once had and make it stay

Between imaterial ashes and words said
Decades ago, in a basement of white roses -
Metalic touches, the unworthy innocent  
Will lie in dreams of the chosen
Drowning in my opaque eyes.

Nothingness looks surreal and bright
From here -
Slowly I will fade to white
*"And all the sudden, I can feel..."

the walker, bends,
her lycra-clad hips,
to check her addidas laces.

she has walked,
many, many miles
in this life.
all, in the pursuit,
of the, body beautiful.

and now, has the
musculsture,
of an aged chicken.
all string and rope,
under sagging skin.

she breathes deeply,
sips, from a metalic bottle
and begins,
the downward journey,
into the unenviable,
inevitablity of ageing.

she smiles and
gives me a cheery wave,
as she passes on by.

Metalic and Cold
press to my veins
in a coveted hold
your kiss is my lead
you help my stead
you clear the fright inside me

If only for a moment
you transfix me
the rise of scarlet waves
it splits the seas
only for me
my freedom lovers light

The calm washes down
to                  my   frown
      lift   up  
pure like holly water
to panting breath
you give me yet the sight
high as a laughting cloud

You save me yet
a mighty net
sterling clean and sharp
my friend your intuition
Lets me stay in commision
             My

Blood          Drops

For                  Me
       To       See

City storms and maddening proposals
why not stay simple and kiss
No extravagent nights hitting the shops
"But the economy dropped" you hear
Then lets follow  back to simpler rooms
To the uncut fields  and
life support barn frames that glint softly
through the cowboy hat reflections
Take to the tire swing dragging over seams of the hurt skies
Scraping the bottom of the barrels

Go to the old country and in
our eyes
the metalic skin does not envy us
For it has novels it wrote to speak

Lets make it new again
Pulling the ashtray clouds
And gasoline tears through the messy cottontails
Let us not be caught as we adventure
Inside thickets of pasts and childhood books