February 2012
22 posts
Yes, I’ve been reading Dickens again. That man can make me pee and sweat tears. If I had any tears that is.
He had grown under the weight of his mother’s depression but in some moment of today he grew to be a man alone. He placed his father’s shirt over his head and he began to yell at her through the folds and creases. He began to yell as she had often done to him, uncontrolled but focused, the decompression of decades through a steady raged beat of words, spit soaking blue the white of the...
A list of things I need to look up names for:
Corner creases on a page in a book.
That little bit of saltine cracker that sticks to your gums.
Really really big nipples.
That difference in feeling between morning and night.
The tiny splotches of lavender that quickly appear and disappear when you’re driving with a mild cold starting up and a car on the other lane has its lights on and...
Summary of Generic Responses to the Content Posted During the Last 2 Months with Some What Considerable Responses:
A poem about loneliness with space and astronaut figure: 258 notes. A nostalgic poem of longing with hidden rhymes and beats expressing the understanding of fleeting and longing: 237 notes. A cut out of Van Gogh shapes from his own paintings: 152 notes. (A more complex and better cut...
Food, dinner, whatever is a good context for drinking. We’ll have a drink before the meal. We’ll have a bottle of wine during the meal. We’ll finish off drinking after the meal. You won’t know it but by the time we finish eating, you’ll be in some way intoxicated. The basic law of the universe tends to be that if you’re in the sweet spot of intoxication where...
I fired her at ten this morning and it’s noon now but she’s still sitting there in the break room hovering over the mug of, what I assume now to be, cold coffee. She hasn’t moved. Carol is there next to her and she’s rubbing her back lightly, the way coworkers, or ex coworkers I guess, do for each other on those desperate days. They told me to follow the script. If I...
the shins - september
did you hear it this...
I am susceptible to live music at night and especially at night when I’m with a pretty girl with an easy face next to me sipping an Irish red I knew she’d like, but who isn’t? And I get the sense of incoherent story and significance inflating the moment in the deadly pause that quakes somewhere in the middle an amazing song, that few seconds of stillness some songs are delicate...
Dream 2/6/12 I remind you again to breathe. Not au-to-ma-tic-ally but with a conscious poise that will refine your body and life through your awareness and presence. The home birth was difficult but I ask you to console yourself with the face of the child. The drip of red across a light blue undertone. He is evening sky and tonight you will speak of his future. A black backpack and a bridge across...
Everything feels like it was such a waste of time. I can’t remember anything. It’s as if I never did the things that might have been worth its time. What was it that made me so satisfied for a while? It was something good. I swear it was. I think it was. Right?
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He said with so much joy, “There are billions and billions of stars and there are billions and billions of planets. Ginormous clouds of gases with interactions more complex than our brain. Someone out there is thinking.”
He didn’t have much time left so he spent most days and nights looking out into the blue and the black and the spattering of lights. He wasn’t being...
Grandpa takes a drag from his cigarette. Some uncaptured smoke plays before his Wayfarers.
“It’s so terribly uncool to go to death knowing what it is.”
“What do you mean grandpa?”
He looks away from me and towards the blue sky.
…
♫
“
There is this unknown distance between you and me lined with the infinite points hummed by bees.
“
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January 2012
32 posts
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I know I’m drunk because when I rub my bare feet together, it’s heaven. The action rings the nerves along the smooth topside of my foot and the pressed sliding tickles my brain. I fucking purr. I’m not at home in case you’re wondering. You should be wondering. It’s funny. I spend so much time trying not to be myself but I spend so much more time trying to convince...
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These familiar strangers with names like Joy, Stillness, Loneliness, Love, they’ve all gathered here at this table to discuss the matter at hand.
This work could not be delegated to the body, no, this is the work of strangers. They must decide.
What to do with you? They wonder. What to do, what to do, how can we fill the room?
We can’t fill the room, says Happiness, It’s just to big.
But we...
We’ve all been consumed, subverted, co-opted to some greater narrative that links every single one of us. And we don’t know a single word beyond this story. This is funny because there is no reality to find anymore. There is no meaning of life waiting for us to discover it. It, standing in the rain with open arms ready to embrace us. It, isn’t there. We make our own reality but...
I’m walking the path between lecture halls and a thought wanders in and makes itself known. It is wearing a significant red and on the realization that the thought is no longer a thought but a perspective, it, the red, bursts out and tints all my sight a subdued rose. I’m moved a few inches from my core and I see the world from an angle I have never experienced before. This thought has...
Crisis comes and drinks my wine and settles on my bed, How quiet the thoughts that alert me to her presence. She says, It’s been too long my dear. Way too long I fear. She locks her toes with mine. I am unafraid. She lies on top of me and wraps her arms and locks her hands along my spine. She nuzzles her nose to my exposed neck. She breathes out her air and it creates a rash on my skin....
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who else got drunk last night and kissed a pretty...
You really have to be naked when you write poems. And poems are best written in public. Scratch yourself down there and try saying the first line of your poem. Does it sound right? No but more important: Does it feel right? People will judge you for writing poems. It’s part of the deal. Make sure to spit a lot. Hiss. Moan. It’ll help you rattle up some ideas. Oil and grease your...
The absolute silence of happiness. The mute world of joy and all the rainbow glint bubbles popping along the grass. And the dog. Always a dog licking at my face. The streaks of sunlight and her silhouette. Arabesque. One stretched arm and her lips moving but no words and no sound. She blows a kiss and the trees sway from a sudden burst of wind. Silence. Your ice cream scoop falls and the dog jumps...
“As I shaved, I thought of my father and his possessive quiet. There is a curtain and it is never spoke of and it is unseen but soon it will be shed and parted. It happens for everyone. It has happened for my father. What did my father expect? How did he learn to be so quiet sitting beyond the veil? Will I be as slowed by the revelation? A tiny red triangle formed above my jaw. It ached...
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You start running and you follow as the pace of the group picks up. There’s Dan to the left in his yellow shirt and black tank huffing and puffing and spitting because 15k is nothing, he said to you. But now he looks like a bumble bee drowning in the toilet. Come on old man. It’s only been ten minutes. Dan starts to trail at the end of the group. You wonder if you should stay with him....
Anonymous asked: I fall in love with boys that write like you do.
Anonymous asked: Do you or will you have a book of all your work available for purchase?
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I live in you, and on my walk beyond the invalid house where the leaves crack and they mourn in sharp whispers, down from the hill to the city where the skyscrapers are draped with sheets of bluest white, to the bridge where I stand and glare at the refractions of the light born on the waves, I dig in my pocket for, I don’t know, for anything to hold, maybe to study, maybe to throw in the...
We are little gods and the sun of high paper is rolled and enjoyed in the haze of its own glow and all summers combine to an eternity range of high bliss low worry love love loss sand bitten kiss. (we learned from the lack of death and the void is incomprehensible with so much music) We perpetuate our joy by dividing ourselves to the immortal “smallest thing”, that one second...
