February 27, 2004

closed eye writing

watching a movie on the inside of my eyelids--i like to do that while I type. It's purple, images like clouds, and yellow eggs inside the face of a monster--yellow eggged eye sockets that glow neon. The monster sproutts eyelashes, thick ones, imagine, thick black lashes over neon gold eyes, oval, and the teeth do come next, with the firey red glowing of lava in the throat of the beast. Nothing really, when you add green ears and a turqouise spiney tail.


The farm is more than pastures, it's the white rail fence and boulders as tall as a healthy man of 35, a picnic table with a checkered tablecloth toss it over the shortest boulder, and the cool pitcher of lemonade and ice sits on the fence post--I wait for it to fall.