Truth in Documents

the attitude is poisonous

that tilt of your head,
the hand on the table.

lift me from this pile
and stand me erect
burn the papers you cherish most

the ringlets of your hair
the cool purse of lips

shift the order
back to truth
if that suits you

or truth is not an order
in reality or even fiction
but just what suits you best

the skin tone
the eye colour
the curves and textures of implied surfaces
the thought of touch

the smell of sulphur.


Long exposure from a moving car ~ Exa Ihagee

Long exposure from a moving car ~ Exa Ihagee

The success of moments
upon the skin.
The pain of swatting flies
or stabbing a pencil into
your leg.

Trip over the outline
left on the ground.
You mark the soured earth
with your spit words
and poor taste.

Scratch the dirt away from the stone
you buried.
Rub the surface to search for letters
the ground will etch the truth
into the surface.

The ground will find its way
through the air above.
Those normal things that move,
that go or stay
remain in their decay.

Scratch the dirt away and look for the hints
you’ve hidden.
Memory created you from a pile of garbage
a pile of other peoples’ actions
or so it seems.

Wake up.
Swing your bare feet to the floor.
Try to put your shirt on right side out.