fleischer art poetry teresa fleischer

P a s s a g e

I find being your amusement laborious

I find being your amusement laborious.
I do not shout these verses for cocktails.

I am not docile, I am not tame, but sometimes largely ignorant.
I am taken by temperament but not ruled by it.

The love that I love …
The love that I have not…
she walks the endless sea, swims
the endless sand…to me.

I am recognizable to none but one,
and feeding on temptations
will not merry me, will not mend me.

Thus, I isolate because no one summons me.

I do not want what is calculated, what is edit sound.
Mind is skill too well rehearsed and dull, virgin is opt.

I am language plain, why can you not read me.
Do not peddle my pages,
they are well worn on their own.

I do not want to accomplish you. I do not want to know your element.

Leave me with distinct chatter
for I do appreciate your design,

yet I will become no subject here.
Into the quiet I will wash, well.

Tear from this tree no branches

Tear from this tree no branches, peel from it no bark, cut from it no sliver of wood to burn. For burn it will not in any fire set ablaze, it is to a bonfire born and grown.

Years guarded, aging well with the moist of ground to velvet the time.

Many names written, many phrases lain to benchmark the bark, yet none have taken,
and the persistent ones have been weathered dull by the storms.

It is not made ripe by the endless sea of sky that floats ever-lasting theater above its main,
it is not made this way so it can give you a slow burn, a savoring partake of its core.

Service me without pause

Service me without pause
without crated thought,
without mind Samaritan.
Bring to me diabolical wickedness,
malicious mischief.
Spell into me diffuseness,
but only if it dimes from your heart.

Passage me without notification

Passage me without notification, without calming, without proportion!

I bend to you in fault for I am not sedate. Because I am made of parts unimpaired, I cannot move a mouthful of mud.

Acquaint with me in vacant hours, in moments of mileage for I want to chapter in you unnoticed, to exhaust in you generously.

I am not busy being indifferent

I am not busy being indifferent,
as you become this self-directing infant
lettering me with tonic, thin and conditional primness.

I will not sport in protest, nor retreat into my daydreams,
I cannot undo the spring tide.

What will I shout for, applaud for.
Favorable reason is a novel of fiction,
a love affair
exaggeration fanciful.

Shatter me, impair me

Shatter me, impair me, for I am careless and without shelter. I cannot rehearse salvage nor reclaim expression, they have timed me already. Without you I dine on famine, I feast on uneven eurhythmics.

Tin me for I know the duration, the measure of age I must weather past to unearth you once again.

I am in disaster

I am in disaster, in a dry biting disorder,
I am a fortune of damage canvassed.

all artwork from San Francisco street art 2008, Mission District