LancelotPrice

Truly, he was my kryptonite. His strange and wonderful presence Tapped into a vein, a crack in my citadel That went all the way down Into the muddled heart of me. I can forgive me for being helplessly drawn to him Again and again. I know how it happened.

He says “hop on”, and I obey - I slide my hands into his pockets and anticipate speed. We climb up the valley wall, the beauty overwhelms, as if for the first time I’ve seen this space - Dreamscapes surround us as we blur through the country. Some ancient chemical switch clicks off inside and I gaze at the sun drenched leaves and forest flowers. We disappear into the shade, as the forest opens up her deep verdant heart. And I continue to sit in chaotic flight smothered by a God-smock, painted by every colour ever known - and I exhale all my yesterdays and tomorrows away, I am thoroughly renewed.

But she still keeps that useless china from decades before from those trips to all the whatevers of the world that nobody cares about and pales even if the smallest crack pops up after the clean ups all of that she still does but she blinks nothing when it comes to trashbining others´ everything: the few happy memories contained in old toys, the prides of reaching for whatever wisdom in any old book or photocopy, the unassuming humility and prudence contained in the worn out shoes that were, as the poet goes, as loved as the city that fathered you. As unthinking as buying new shoes forcing him to wear the new shoes taking the ol

someone rapped on the window in the evening it was a star and it was bleeding and it brough some strange parcel with a note: „Mandrake and an armoured elephant, for You.“ - Samuel Rosenstock after which there were fireworks in the bedroom and that’s how the dreams are born, if I’m right.

like potatoes, softly melting in the pot their skin and meat now brush against the rock gently - barely tickling it at all, while the foolhardy young noodle tries to tie itself a knot around the firm and stony giant; blind it cannot feel its wobbly limb, dancing in the rain of torn organic parts shrooms mushed, I see their juices seep into the current, and the dust of herbs becomes a thin veil, like an asteroid belt, or the milky way itself going round and round, and up and down, inside this greater vessel known as the worldpool but to whose will do we all cook?.. where in this torrid storm can I find his or her taste their aroma, where d

i drew my heart with dry erase marker (wet red curvature inking it sharper) soil sand earth glass the boards we use for graphs in economics class. Gold and blood(both dirty and clean) circulate hungry and far between they follow their guilty they point their blame water honey roses flame teacher laughed(but history read that in the long run we're all dead earth glass soil sand) burn our coal and sell the land block by day and book by page i grin your glee i wreck your rage cloud by sky and star by night my heart it often sleeps in spite drawings washed off permanent grinned their mess and did their stint (breathe wait soap and then)they