Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
come over
I live here, where the roar of the behemoths tattoo my window, belly full of indifferent shadows, hunched over plodding lives, vomiting soot on the sheers that blow and flutter with the tide of motor and footfall. I lean way out and crane, you at my buzzer in a puddle of vapor, gold and humming, a guitar on your back.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
tire swing
"I've got one hand on the steering wheel, one waving out the window
If I'm a spinster for the rest of my life
My arms will keep me warm on cold and lonely nights"
-Kimya Dawson (Tire Swing)
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Decent
Sometimes
I think I am only mad at night
wild and imperfect
lounging hungry and lonesome
too full of howl and coney island
waiting to
burn and burn and fall
out of beds left blazing and useless and sudden
finding other ways to settle this score
a boxing ring circus
Allen and Jack leaving a bread crumb trail for the devil
standing shivering speachless and slouching
a pound of flesh in the palm of a quaking hand.
I think I am only mad at night
wild and imperfect
lounging hungry and lonesome
too full of howl and coney island
waiting to
burn and burn and fall
out of beds left blazing and useless and sudden
finding other ways to settle this score
a boxing ring circus
Allen and Jack leaving a bread crumb trail for the devil
standing shivering speachless and slouching
a pound of flesh in the palm of a quaking hand.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
bookstore
for michelle
Your a novel
me a picture book
Together we sit shelved
yellowing slowly.
under faded covers we whisper
and rustle our secrets
Monday, March 2, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
106 1/2
I am officially scared of you.
You: "Do you like my sign?" (holding a large square carefully lettered and peppered with severe looking little crosses)
Me: "Yeah, Clark, it looks nice"
You: "No, do you like my sign"
Me: "Yeah... good job on it."
You: "Well you know God is having a wedding and if you don't go you can't come...."
You kept going, breathless, shaking that sign at us, The "Christ Saves" vibrating with your punctuation. You, with your huge parka in the middle of the balmy afternoon. You with your unblinking colorless eyes. And we stood there, in our mormon and baptist skins long since shed, immobile, mouths agape.
And then you turned on your heels and walked purposefully away, the sign thrust like a shield in front of you.
The model commented that you were a "scary, scary dude.", advising pepper spray.
I hoisted my camera into the trunk and we left.
I did not cry...
until I got home, tonight, when you hollered at me from the landing about having something you "needed to talk to me about", I pretending that I was on the phone with my mother, "sorry".
"I understand" you clenched, grinding your teeth.
I am shaking, even now.
You, thin and grey and the only person who knows when I come and go.
It takes a crazy to recognize you, dear.
An arsenal of various items to burn and shock Crazy You are on its way, courtesy of the internet, and this lonely pit in my stomach. And I hope you start taking your medication again, because when I am curled in my office at a wee hour I weary of hearing you yell and pitch with fervor at the imaginary somebodys that I know are not in your loft.
You: "Do you like my sign?" (holding a large square carefully lettered and peppered with severe looking little crosses)
Me: "Yeah, Clark, it looks nice"
You: "No, do you like my sign"
Me: "Yeah... good job on it."
You: "Well you know God is having a wedding and if you don't go you can't come...."
You kept going, breathless, shaking that sign at us, The "Christ Saves" vibrating with your punctuation. You, with your huge parka in the middle of the balmy afternoon. You with your unblinking colorless eyes. And we stood there, in our mormon and baptist skins long since shed, immobile, mouths agape.
And then you turned on your heels and walked purposefully away, the sign thrust like a shield in front of you.
The model commented that you were a "scary, scary dude.", advising pepper spray.
I hoisted my camera into the trunk and we left.
I did not cry...
until I got home, tonight, when you hollered at me from the landing about having something you "needed to talk to me about", I pretending that I was on the phone with my mother, "sorry".
"I understand" you clenched, grinding your teeth.
I am shaking, even now.
You, thin and grey and the only person who knows when I come and go.
It takes a crazy to recognize you, dear.
An arsenal of various items to burn and shock Crazy You are on its way, courtesy of the internet, and this lonely pit in my stomach. And I hope you start taking your medication again, because when I am curled in my office at a wee hour I weary of hearing you yell and pitch with fervor at the imaginary somebodys that I know are not in your loft.
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