paintings of buddha
drawings of god
i swore you did not believe
in departed angels
but i was wrong
so many more
could be like you
indifferent and moving
its understood
this distance
still growing
so you keep on turning
in any old direction
with each footprint
in time
substantial evidence
that
with nothing come something
so
i welcome history
Friday, July 25, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Dark patches of hair
shivering in the breeze;
today is your camera
today watches longingly
today is reflected in a tepid glass of water.
What garbage wafts from the street
and into the open windows
is brushed away swiftly,
painlessly, into the absorbent surfaces
of a ghost dark room
at two in the afternoon;
tomorrow is bound to your headboard
tomorrow is begging you for more.
today is your camera
today watches longingly
today is reflected in a tepid glass of water.
What garbage wafts from the street
and into the open windows
is brushed away swiftly,
painlessly, into the absorbent surfaces
of a ghost dark room
at two in the afternoon;
tomorrow is bound to your headboard
tomorrow is begging you for more.
how perfectly god-damned delightful it all is to be sure
my destiny is to live
between hangovers and warm 'hellos'
and go from an angry sleep
in your brothers bed
to some time spent alone
which i capitalize on by doing the dishes in the nude
collecting as many spare socks as i can
and longing for the green lake,
and the time when we talked about it.
good grammar and your girlishness
wont save you today, or even tomorrow
even if the hole is shallow,
we'll still bury you
because i'm making friends for life
the kind that go out of their way
to save me,
and let the wind do the fucking you over.
between hangovers and warm 'hellos'
and go from an angry sleep
in your brothers bed
to some time spent alone
which i capitalize on by doing the dishes in the nude
collecting as many spare socks as i can
and longing for the green lake,
and the time when we talked about it.
good grammar and your girlishness
wont save you today, or even tomorrow
even if the hole is shallow,
we'll still bury you
because i'm making friends for life
the kind that go out of their way
to save me,
and let the wind do the fucking you over.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Do you listen to Steely Dan?
How about Donald Fagen?
Real Snarky
Snark Level 100 %
The Nightfly.
Get oun that shit.
Real Snarky
Snark Level 100 %
The Nightfly.
Get oun that shit.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
the names of your enemies
vision of the end
a wreckage of kitsch, and a fragile paper boat
swirling past us
a babbling creak of vodka, full of Swedish Fish
sugary bloodstains on my shoes, and in the back yard
another day to get it clean
what a catch, made for trophy
the main problems have been negated
because wrought iron men never bend
lying feels so good, when you're beloved
like elbow length velvet gloves
the sky is pulling back
a zipper made of stars, and bone-china
is blinding white
the fear is palpable and pulsing like a radiation migraine
the holes we cut for our eyes
are sometimes back-lit
sometimes gone
the suburbs and the city
the front porch and the balcony
i could be yawning, or i could be snarling
but my facial expression makes no impact
on any Yankee conscience.
a wreckage of kitsch, and a fragile paper boat
swirling past us
a babbling creak of vodka, full of Swedish Fish
sugary bloodstains on my shoes, and in the back yard
another day to get it clean
what a catch, made for trophy
the main problems have been negated
because wrought iron men never bend
lying feels so good, when you're beloved
like elbow length velvet gloves
the sky is pulling back
a zipper made of stars, and bone-china
is blinding white
the fear is palpable and pulsing like a radiation migraine
the holes we cut for our eyes
are sometimes back-lit
sometimes gone
the suburbs and the city
the front porch and the balcony
i could be yawning, or i could be snarling
but my facial expression makes no impact
on any Yankee conscience.
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