musesque

weightless smothering like countless diamonds dropped into untouched purity that whispers a muffled memory too obscured by beauty to comprehend

I lived in an empty world and I never died nor did I live. I was born buried in the sand amongst shells, where the fish spoke and could suffer my rare melodies, forget my rare melodies because I was better silent, because my song did not permeate the sea. And if I die, I hope to be amongst the fish who listen, and love, and see the beauty in the sky.

Her eyes waved goodbye and then there appeared a lizard, scurrying. I saw its mother; she had velvet ears, soft and smooth and she smelt of booze. The rose clatter of her toes was audible from a distance. I called her Francine, Francine from Istanbul. She tasted like Italian but looked like sauerkraut. Francine was a lizard like any other from a page in a field guide. I went hiking once, and only once in my lifetime, right before I died. I was killed at a jamboree by the beat of a drum-- beware, all drums kill. That struck me odd, dying then did, at the hands of the violent drum of time. On occasion, silence can kill; it ki