January 2011
2 posts
3 tags
Arches
Laborious geometry parting from gloved fingertips.
I stare at these contours indelibly left in concrete.
Flows of solid rock in deliberate unity.
Flawless is somehow stale.
And perfection is the standard ordinary.
The structure I walk within is an equation.
For the death of art.
Much is lost in regularity.
Yet amazing the majesty of numeral.
-EJH
3 tags
Vice
Some ridiculous pressure.
And some tension buried just beyond your reach.
Scribble notes, sleep well, and that’s that.
What can turn four years into seven?
And make them feel like one?
What I need is friction.
Something to adhere to my sweaty palms.
And your hand fits just fine.
-EJH
