Dustmites in haphazard heaps*~

Pompadour · 2015-03-21T05:56:52Z

2014's absolutest failure. Pompadour wanders the attic. ~2015 Maybe I'll do the dedication thing this year, but I'm thinking of trying out some structured poetry as well. Let's see how this goes. x 1/30: besieged, darling 2/30: here comes the hun 3/30: laconic 4/30: 1:42 5/30: we need potential difference, man 6/30: pep-talk 7/30: sociological wanders 8/30: street art 9/30: weeping skies' melody 10/30: Contemplation 11/30: healing 12/30: circa we're trying to find out 13/30: landslides 14/30: moonwalk 15/30: Mourning 16/30: To myself I preach 17/30: today is a crappy poem 18/30: tildes 19/30: When in London it doesn't rain 20/30: Idlewild 21/30: Hello, Utopia 22/30: Wordage 23/30: Of Train Boy 24/30: theatrical fingers 25/30: beastly poetry/fairy trails 26/30: Limewrecks, oyeah 27/30: entitled 'rubbish'; actually chocolate 28/30: there goes the sun, McCartney

Update: Poem 30

I know this update is late, uhm.

my apologies for the falling asleep
of my feet in the car, for being so slow,
and so hopeful, and so deafblind. i am sorry
that i have maps sketching out my ribs, the easiest
route to your ever-changing perceptions.

it is my fault that my eyes carve deeper into my head, that
the hammocks under my irises are sagging.
i have spent too many nights traversing a dreamworld,
but never sleeping until morning demands it.

i've made it a habit to give each dream a name;
some i remember because they are speaking wondertrails
on your lips; others i do not take care to remember

because like an avalanche, they are meaningless, only serving
to bury us alive.
you say i am meaningless. you say
every dream has the same fate--maudlin
and willful,
hanging over the windshield like thick fog.

i am obscuration and you are inexorably
un-explainable.

i say,
'i'm sorry if you can't see the highway.'

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