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Saturday, December 21, 2002


First shoes

My first shoes would not wear out
My birthplace was a flimsy shelter
that lacked topographic identity
Melancholia pervades my memories
occupied by limp plots drained
in various shades of gray


Currently I can't afford
Patent-leather shoes
I'm under the picture
Flaws in my stroke weakened
the fundamentals
A sink-or-swim dilemma
precedes a reversal
of skilled inadequacy


Every man is his own inmate
A room should smell of culture
and be designated as a set of
Sub-arctic morale
Proclaim yourself a soap opera-
and star by your own name


Vision is a toxic bacteria-

A garbage truck of status quo
challenging blasphemy

The Gods of your zone
Smoking Camels and sipping
native Bourbon
Will write your doomsday obit
on borrowed time
It takes three stories to fall
effectively to your own death


posted by Walter at 12/21/2002

Thursday, December 19, 2002

P o e m

To a diver surfacing:


Soon, very soon
We're company to women,
Caretakers and spirituals

You've emerged from depths
Where nitrogen and oxygen
Can suddenly prove toxic

You stood witness to
Unparallelled loneliness
And blurred vision

One needs love for life,
Intrigue and mystery

Surface for experience

-To decompress-

Walter van Lotringen 2002


posted by Walter at 12/19/2002