February 2010
28 posts
Paper Cranes
Your hands are keeping busy And your eyes are sitting pretty You’re looking through the darkness And squinting hard to see me
All I need are these hearts and paper cranes Pieces of parchment, folded in unusual ways Scribbles, scraps, and receipts, that forget to get thrown away I drop my coins on the ground because I can’t hold anymore change
“This is Not an Exit” reads a paper sign crudely taped to a sliding convenience store door. The clerk’s eyes wander from the door to the flask of whiskey he’s hiding behind the counter—as if subconsciously making the connection. as if wishing that someone had told him the same thing. This is not an exit. The alcohol constantly permeating his body is not a way out. it doesn’t allow him the...
The Brim of the Brim
President says, Wyse man says, they all say but I try to listen
failing, of course
Why we stop and breathe and reminisce and meditate, absorb heat and zen and blues and greens. But my life operates as a sort of mass reproduced signature of currents that have been rippling since Little Boy started to cry. I am a product of production, and an image of that which I wish would shrivel and shadow...
These empty pages are tearing me up They are wasted nights and wasted thoughts It’s time to come back and fill them all up Time to be alive again, roll the windows down, no inhibitions Time for two in the morning: Wake up don’t forget this Lose the tingle of feeling numb and bring on the sting of real life’s return All that’s bottled up, time to pour it out Let it soak...
a letter to ts eliot
i’ve measured my life out in coffee spoons. i’ve seen every morning, evening, and afternoon. in all the world what’s left for me? books to write and none to read. there’s nothing left for me to read, except the headlines in the morning, when i open up my door and read the sad news, i have often wondered “can i take anymore?” but - first things first. ...
Africa
She is a harsh mother with a blood red eye in the morning birth, tree black silhouettes sit in her like wind ripped visions of the night. A hot iron molding cut figures, bronze in their work so pulled and tried in their breath. Everyone taken is a gift, a telling of the singularity of life; one pull and one push. One less to die.
How massive she is, and oh how small!
The ground is stained red...
Poison Oak
Last night the gray dogs at the foot of my bed Brandishing teeth toward hairs on my head Through the forest they followed my scent To remind me of the people I’ve been And to show that they’ve known Of poison oak on my arm.
echo
slouched to my lamplight, as i do in bed compliant prisoner to the rapping of the rain outside and the stretched shadows on my walls i stared at a spot on my ceiling, in between thoughts there was a split second where the quiet in my head grew too loud it was then i snapped out of one reverie an onto another looking up from my notebook and getting out of bed in one swift motion i found...
Welcome Back Bukowski
I left the northern coast of California because the suffocating presence of my family required my immediate departure. I lose my coat in Fresno. I hitch up to Redding where I stay in the most asinine hotel room haunted by the ghosts of strangled prostitutes. I find a tooth under the covers and subsequently have insomnia thinking of what outlandish scenario could have placed my ivory trinket...
Ballad of a Burned Out Man
He was roasted from the inside out His heart was in a drought And the locals couldn’t help but see He’s not like you and me But they knew to leave him be There’s plenty more like him you see Who moved away down by the sea Underneath they’re just like you and me Just like you and me… He lived in town in days before In times when he did want for more Until that fire tore through his...
Cherry
She opened the front door with a blue snuggie wrapped around her body and over her head like a scarf. Holding herself covered with one hand on both ends of the snuggie and a white tank top graced with a splotch of coffee stain on the left breast. Her pajama pants were too big for her and made a scratching sound as she swooshed the extended 4 inches or so of extra pant length across the carpet, to...
I Could Tell
Night
Once upon a time, Before the fall of man, Lived beasts of all kind, All across the land.
The gods had made night and day, With darkness and light, But they neglected to make way, To save beasts from hunters might.
For day was but a lantern’s glow, And night a darkened shade, At nightfall no light would show, Their mistake was made.
For every night when lights died, They came out to feed, Not...
January 2010
18 posts
Suicide and the Broken Bird
That morning was a green rain, grass blades flashing like the smallest of swords, the hot hum of great golden bees laughing within the space between rafter and wood-beaten ceiling, the floorboards creaking and lonely. He was crouched like an aging orange peel, body one slim panel at the edge of the blue computer screen. Every so often he got up. Step, Step. Pacing the borders of our house,...
forgive me, i’m far too shy the reason hello’s quickly turn into goodbye’s but i walk away heavy with unsaid words they twist and turn while i cling to my safeguards i whisper lies to myself i can’t seem to shake even when i know their intent to break, break, break
all the words i can’t express or maybe what i’ve tried to suppress you’re saying them...
What My Eyes See
Awash in a sea of what could have been and what might yet be, I release these wings of thought.
If I could sleep, I would fall deeper than you, but creativity takes it brutal control over me.
I saw the machines covered like thoroughbreds with their eyes shielded from their fellow colts
Before we hit the silence and while on the ground we rode.
I just couldn’t wait to get home to my family.
...
Cosmic Theatre
When I was a baby boy I swallowed a star; and I thought I was the brightest in the sky. I thought I was the one. Though my days were filled with warmth, my nights were too bright. I grew up blinded by the light; I looked into my sun. and i know that now but then i was young and it costs me now and I never saw the worth having lived in the warmth of a darkness oh so blessedly cool; the dark side of...
You Might Remember
December 2009
13 posts
