Saturday, October 31, 2009

Opening Windows


My eyes are the windows of my head.
My words are the windows of my mind.
My actions are the windows of my limbs.
My friends are the windows of my heart.

1 comment:

Dr. Mike said...

Pumpkin Sky-Burial

October is the season of cinnamon and spice -- one giant pumpkin, obscenely glutted with seeds, rolled to the edge and over Mt. Nebo (fraternity prank after a couple of beers in a dry county). Take thy beloved deceased wrapped in a white shroud and catapult the corpse off a very high cliff, so the soul may fly to heaven as the body falls to earth, compost for buzzards and worms (especially useful after no inheritance). We are nothing unless we be transformed (Black English preserves the subjunctive). Turning into a bat or wolf under the new moon accounts for Halloween’s dark fantasies (combining Mardi Gras glitter and sparkle with flecks of blood between the teeth). Trees squeeze the leaves off so as not to starve in winter (metaphors of science are silver). Might as well be a unicorn since what I practice is so extinct,

[Disposable Prose October 30, 2009]
Dr. Mike