Grass Shack - Guerilla Toss

Quality and sanity

Buldging and receding

Ring around the edges

A blurry figure

Cuz if you find a needle

Inside of a grass shack

Bent up and misshapen

Deformed pattern

Blurry fuzzy muted

And not so very clear

Murky, monotonous

I cannot see or hear

I do not know tomorrow

Only today

A powder identity

A pet made of clay

Balance and lucidity

Pushing but not needing

Keep it at the surface

Right or reason

Collect all the details

From one thing to another

A hazy figure told me

Lack want, need, faster

Blurry fuzzy muted

And not so very clear

Murky, monotonous

I cannot see or hear

I do not know tomorrow

Only today

A powder identity

A pet made of clay

She saw patterns in sleep but also on the tv screen

Observing and waiting for an image or message to arrive

From a place she had grown to lean

Why go outside, and look at the public feature?

Maybe go out see a show, or, to change the scenery

Peeling her frame from the sheet

Trails of light followed each image in motion

Led by a small square of paper

It was rough, pointed on the edges and not entirely square

Peering from behind the peripheral the idea was spherical

A question asked but never resolved

Loomed in the air until the door opened

Parting ways with a forgetful air perhaps using it later

To tie together two pieces of rope

Or stretch a rubber band over a jar

She closed the door and paced

Strutting and moving around

Shifting the shoulders up and down

Assessing every fingertip and limb

All the images pulsing and breathing also with a halo rim

Stumbling towards the way, passing by every tree

Or figure lined behind a dull grey

Mundanely molded as a replica of the next

In a clay, factory, built on land with a hex

A walk in the winter turned into a walk in the spring

As the grey turned to green and the cold started to melt away

Patterns still lay on the front of her eyes and shadows could still be seen in

the corners

A truth or a figment?

I can’t even stand it

Without seeing or hearing was as good as blinking in the dark

A pin in the heart

That rushed up and out to patterns in the tv

Whats good in reality?

the difference in dreams and mortality

The form or the picture and the light and the fixture

Quality and sanity bursting into abnormality

The holiest