| (no subject) |
[Jan. 24th, 2009|03:57 pm] |
I have been awake since before the sun had risen to overtake
the thin lunar crescent like water submerging a minnow
I have sat and laid under the heavy consonance of Gregorian Chant
-bought to me via YouTube- and read one of her old favorites.
And I watched the day arrive before the sun.
La Pacem Domini, Sancte Michael,
Paul Baumer, Kantorek,
Salve Maria,
amputation.
Several songs conclude before a pop-up advertising medication for
depression stifles the images of Religion and Faith.
Outside the sun has crowned the shaking bare branches
with royal frozen beams that arrive refracted once
by the window and again in my eye.
In one of the images scrolling to the music, a monk of about
thirty years crests his hands in prayer, revealing a digital watch
strapped around his bony wrist.
A sign of the times in a time searching for signs. |
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| Countdown to Bedtime. |
[Jan. 14th, 2009|04:15 am] |
Early dawn is encroaching and I told myself I wouldn't write
but why not? Maybe I'll have time to
reaload the pipe
before I head
upstairs.
Work at daybreak and I told myself that I would have to get gas
and cigarettes yesterday so that
it wouldn't be such a rush
in the morning.
So cold outside and the space heater can only go so long
before a crackle of light arcs
and it switches off.
My window is open upstairs, allowing the sheets to grow
colder. And colder without me.
And colder with only me. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 2nd, 2009|10:02 pm] |
You
you are a time machine
brought from the future
to reflect in the past
you
you are a timeless piece of spirit
that shines beyond skies and
days and moments, months and years
you
you have become a pattern
recurring indefinitely
evading logic and doubt
you
you have become
a hope, a desire, a wish,
a want, a love, a mirage,
an affirmation, a liberation,
a friend, a partner,
apart, but always
a
part. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 28th, 2008|03:54 pm] |
day and ago
had nowhere to go
wanted to leave
and I wanted the breeze
to lash upon my hair
not all that long ago
i headed down the road
away from these lamp-lit bricks
to watch the sky drown in LED
and I came back
and I came back
with nothing to do
or nowehre to go
and i've stayed this long
but why? |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 18th, 2008|02:50 pm] |
The music is put through a gate
chopped
scratched and
brought forth
the voices slide
like a federal note
being run over a
bartop.
The music undergoes
staccato interruption
of blips and mutes
short static jilts
bass lays thick carpet smoothly
voices are being torn asunder
and mended to become the same.
The music readies itself
for what's next to come
before it has happened
before you know it's there
the voices explain away
mirrored in digital harmony
and are hushed before
too much is said. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 17th, 2008|02:49 pm] |
Tossed
yellow ball
back and again
back and again
dropped
yellow ball
Thwack against the wall
or the counter
or the door
And no noise but the
thwack
on the floor
In punctuated silence
but it still feels like silence
not unlike
staring in the dark and blinking
somehow.
Those jaws can shred
that yellow ball in twain;
indeed, they have before
this yellow ball
is not the first
but part procession
that have been run through
those jaws
and there will be more
And this
yellow ball is not the last
that will undergo bisection
And that throw was not
the last sloppy thwack
that will echo in the wall
That wasn't the last sloshy plop
to splash upon the floor
There will be more
We shall keep our mouths shut
I won't talk and she won't bark
but there will be more.
Punctuated silence
fore and before. |
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| The Passage of Time |
[Nov. 23rd, 2008|06:45 pm] |
It's becoming more and more difficult to breathe because of my actions and choices. Because of my disappointments my vices grow and constrict. It's been a long time since I've had the capacity to inhale a full breath and in the lower half of my left lung I feel a sensation best described as a kind of bubble. It's a cigarette, cigarette, light them off eachother, matchstick sigh, carcinogen enriched cycle, that I apparently just don't want to end. I got the news a few days ago, and I had been wheezing before, but now it's click-click-pop-click-click-pop. I have caught myself not inhaling. As if my body wants to give up. And I reward it with more abuse, because I am keeping a balance between my emotional and corporeal selves. And they both just get weaker. And doesn't it just go hand in hand? Isn't it obvious? So smugly dooming.
In a way, however, this is the only way I am getting hurt. This is the only truly negative comeback. It's dire, sure, but ultimately it is up to me to decide to let it be a prison or twist my head around and see that I'm free of troubles that I asked to be. So there. Lament, lament, but you are okay now. Cry and grind your teeth. Try to rip to empty sheets in flushed bursts of sorrow, but the only thing they are missing anymore is a burden, is a bag of sorrow. Tomorrow's the same day. Life on repeat. You're not going to a new place right now. You're not in the big city. You certainly aren't anywhere near Paris or Italy for Christ's sake. It's another somnolent week of opaque clouds and tranparent trees. But now you can be your project. Work. And by no means, just occupationally. Work. Strive. Vie. Do not be deterred.
It is slow but it does not relent. |
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| One Year Ago |
[Oct. 5th, 2008|08:22 am] |
October finally rolls around
with all its weirdness
all its eerie magic fearless and because
the sky, the trees
the clarity of the month
breaks the stale late summer
the aching hangovers,
the time has finally come.
And with it, the trees, they sway
veridian sets to rose.
The geese, the beetle,
the hardened foliage,
Mother Nature, she knows.
Lunar illumination,
a cheshire smile
deep-set into space,
time and life, they may mean nothing,
but they are all I know. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 2nd, 2008|10:49 pm] |
I finally found out
that it was Gminor that
Samuel Barber
had written this majestic
piece in;
this Adagio
for strings
or woodwind sections
or crowded DJ turntables
at the clubs where you cannot see.
And when I found out
I could understand the language
only slightly more.
I sat and disobeyed the
"No Cigarettes Inside"
rule and puffed away
In Gm ten times
at least. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 22nd, 2008|03:11 pm] |
I almost forgot the GD password to this thing. I'm coughing my lungs up now, pack after pack, I know, I know, I need to quit it. But how am I supposed to waste five minutes standing outside?
( poetry 12/7-5/8 ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 24th, 2008|08:17 am] |
|
Singularities are such funny things. We are all just so close, and waiting. And to our surprise, this bitch is fleeting toward us faster than we ever again will be able to handle. We are hitting an infinitely rapid progression toward a higher consciousness. The awakening has been going on for some time now, but it's about to overcome its doubters. I'm learning to cull things from reality with my mind like I have been since that day I went book shopping years ago. It's harder with people though, I'll certainly tell you that, and I can tell you why. And that is where hope is born. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 17th, 2008|03:35 pm] |
It is right now
that I wish the sun would stop
exploding
and in eight minutes
the last escapees
the last neutrinos and photons
would sprinkle over our heads.
It was twenty minutes ago
when I looked at the smoke
coming out of my car's
overheated engine
and compared it
against the smoke coming out
of my overhardened lungs
And the smoke from
my car burned so much
harsher but it was just one
accidental breath in a ceaseless flow
of accidental breaths that
usually keep me going.
It was three days past
and I was looking into a girl's face
that used to slowly slide by
mine in the morning
from three feet away
from three feet away
And I wouldn't say goodbye. |
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| The Big Goodbye |
[Jun. 14th, 2008|11:11 am] |
|
It always feels like the end, and that's the tricky fucking thing about the now. The now is the end of the past. What's next isn't real, what's past isn't real. Real is now and now is the end. So maybe this is the end of the world. But of course, no. The world continues. There is no end. If humans were wiped away, the world would continue. When it becomes enveloped in the embrace of our dying sun some few billion years from now, it will have ended. Even then the amazing universe still goes on. To no end. And here I am at a desk. Reading what you've said, and I'm supposed to believe that the stars are making this happen? Probably not. But where is the interface between the universe and the leptons? I still bring up faint recollections of you every day. It's like it won't go away. It won't end. But it feels like it needs to. It feels like you and I have ended. Like you are afraid of me. It has always felt like the end and maybe that's the problem, maybe that's the reason it feels so good. I'm sure we've talked about this years ago. And I thought it was the end then, too. I hope I don't count the days you're gone. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 13th, 2008|08:41 pm] |
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I seem to have been silenced. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 30th, 2008|05:36 pm] |
|
I've been spending a lot of time by the pool. And I am smoking bowls by matchlight. My books are outside. I'm listening to music I have written for you. It's slow and it doesn't relent. It's slow and it doesn't relent. I hope every day for a better world for me and for everyone. I can change. There is a world surrounding me that I can change. It is slow but it does not relent. I am oft to be guided by infatuation. Is that so bad? |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 17th, 2008|07:20 pm] |
O what once was read
now is lost in the seas
of hypertext and flash
media and amateur
photojournalism.
So now I have the liberty
(like i didn't have it before)
to type type type type type
without the fear of people caring.
There is a life out there
just in front of me and it's her
that I look at
her visage in ultramarine
that tries to keep me and my gin
company. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 9th, 2008|12:16 am] |
The storm rolled on in
last night
when we were asleep in our beds
the storm came dressed in
all of its best bolts of light
and it rolled on in on us
only half asleep
half reaching for the other
and the thunder clapped
and broke our tender somnolence
and shook our dreams down
till we rolled over and reached
till we clasped our searching hands
around just the sheets
just that lonely
four hundred thread count cloth
filled with nothing but the memory
of each other
there last night. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 2nd, 2008|07:19 pm] |
What about now?
Here in the second
story
You and me
how about now
quiet and free?
How about laying under
the faceless thunder
and forgetting you and me? |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 1st, 2008|07:10 pm] |
god
i
wish
it
would
warm
up |
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