darkness through silence slammed the calm out of an october night with permissions granted we gauged water power light and heat source declined all invitations to become one as part of our insignificant footnotes we then avoided attempts at restoration of line and verse with permissions granted we understood the beauty in the equation of less recognition bringing more heated clarity to the bullshit around us it lies within the dark folds of most of these bloody pages, insignificant
small dry sticks lit quickly under teepee of sweet-smelling applewoods woods burning hot in stove with permissions granted we culled and sorted reached deeper into both pockets for bits & pieces of fuzzy recalls slammed back kamikazes spoke of jealous fools who made their small name and smaller claim to fame bringing false notioriety on the stooped back of poets they long to and never will be with permissions granted we told stories and read lines breathed in now ancient history saved only our own souls by recall and rememberance of youthful folly of every fame’s game
the idea of fires burning tonite brought glee and delight with permissions granted what better to kindle us with! one by one with tongues tied and eyes opened with merriment we chanted honorable lines from favorite art shamefully tossed lined notebook papers scribbled signed like autograph badmitton return typed font 12 in Hansa printed pages and pages of poesy letters nestled into webbed cores with permissions granted it released me releases him from more stress and worry at endgame of more lies sent his way release sus both from the terminable agony of inclusion do what you like if you can make a buck for your kindness to me go ahead with permissions granted you keep them _______? he showed me his true face of idiocy years ago when he screwed me with another writing deal he thinks i’ve forgiven and forgotten i only let him believe he means something to me to get the work out there… for i am a user and a taker with few friends and its that unholy characteristic we share…for such a historian he shouldn’t have forgotten such an important FACT
with permissions granted the hour became asphalt fire burned hotter and hotter later into the night as we fed sheet after sheet as perfect sacrifice to hungry flames dance naked around it for all i care i like your idea of a profound bonfire of our collection of mumbled vanities on your cold northern beaches venice swam naked on my back at the foot of brooks when it was a nude beach for awhile did i tell you those stories–oh yeah, that is in here too i remember
with permissions granted he gave it his best shot to end us if he made me mad at you with his journaling/tattletale-ing he could be the hero what a burned child lonely on the schoolyard plotting revenge from bullies who must have once tauntied and tortured that foot-stamping was hard to miss he’s mine he cried i gave him life! visibility! you can’t have this with him! he’s all mine! but no one was listening no one cared enough to hear such whining, pathetic
page by page it burned edges curled in last night’s fireplace catharsis release with permissions granted we discovered that starting again in contact would only induce a labor that neither were willing to have carried to term release me now i’ve enjoyed the dramatic effect of flame to skin today a cupful of cold ash settled into plastic bag will fly south its mission accomplished five fifty-nine minutes later after 24 hours power is restored five fifty-nine we’re still alive really alive and its still really today
