Monday, July 09, 2007


It calls, does the wild (and not only from London) –
But it gets my voicemail and leaves no message after the beep
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzNor a messenger
– What the beep?

Strong vocal cords has the wild; bar chords stronger yet –
Still I cannot hear its message.

(For some odd or G-d reason I think it’s more
A problem with my ears than its tongue.)

It grows on you, does the wild, and you can only hope to

zzzzzzzzzGrow on it.

Like a dizzy spinster it is ungroomed: hair
Tangled; cheeks
Naked; paintless
Lips; lipless

Unlike an elevator filled with great-aunts and queen-wannabes
Pampered in Hegai’s spa, no fumes or perfumes emanate from
Its being – only the smell of nature unsprayed, untouched by art

Official substance.

It’s a wildflower and a wild guess:
A wildflower because nothing can stop its growth;
A wild guess because no one can predict its path.

You are afraid of its potential: you want to flip the letter,
The Double-You –
But were you really born to be in sipid, in control,
To live in postproduction?

Don’t walk down its path –
zzzzzzzzzzzThere isn’t any!
But run along its every curve, over untrimmed edges and
Tall borders, ivy crawling inhibitive, inhibition crawling away.
Bust through convention centers and concession
Stands. Cross-don’t-cross? I’m never cross and crosses

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzAre for roads

Life is wild: a wild look in its eyes, a wild beard on its face –

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzDo you want to tame it or live it?


Blogger the sabra said...

analyze it

7/28/2007 9:50 PM  
Anonymous wild beard on its face said...

wildfires are wild because they can't be controlled. wildflowers are wild because they grow in the wild.

peace achi.

aren't we supposed to tame it?

my straw is broken (nothing poetic, it's a fact)

7/29/2007 1:13 AM  

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