December 2009
Alors j’ai l’histoire D’une...
new year.
I can’t wait for you
to pluck on my heart strings
and reassure me that my increasing age
is for the better.
Maybe you’ll bring me a big reward down the road,
but i’ll be okay with just a few long glances
and some late night dance parties, really.
most of all, i hope that when we meet tonight,
you’ll realize that the celebration of our relationship
is a bit over...
You know when you have a spoon or fork full of something and it’s really hot so you blow on it to cool it off, and then you bring it to your mouth like you’re going to eat it, but then you get scared of burning your mouth and so just to be sure you blow on it again, and then even sometimes you put the bite inside your mouth and do a “oh fuck that, that’s way too hot,”...
“If you were to sacrifice your independence, do you rid yourself of loneliness?” the barber asked the man as he tilted the stranger’s head back, shaving his throat.
“I would think so,” the man replied, “and that is not something I feel I should ever need to jettison.”
It’s like when you listen,
The whole night inhales inside your mouth,
And when you laugh stardust stumbles out.
Writers do nothing but imagine what normal people...
Meet me somewhere tonight in this Civil War town,
Let me listen to your maturity over a drink.
I want to pull back the bed,
I want to tear these curtains down and rip off the window blinds,
until we address what we used to be when we lived here,
until “ashes to ashes” applies to who we once were.
There’s always everything worth running from.
Pectoralis Minor.
Pajama pants and a grey tank top. White pajama pants with vertical stripes, blue and yellow ones of different widths. It reminded me of the IKEA version of that zebra gum everyone used to eat when I was in elementary school, if that makes any sense. She wore them with no socks. We always wondered if anyone sleeps in socks. Elizabeth had this grey tank top she would sleep in, but I think it was...
“I’m so bored with cowards that say...
the earth seemed bigger as i got older, and that was so sad for me.
Watchanybody want to make a stop-motion short with me?
Pictureplane put out an amazing album this year,...
This song would go perfect in a film about...
The distance between 25 and 53
When I was a boy, Uncle Boo Boo came over one day while you both were out back with the heavy dirt bags. He was stumbling, talking and smelling funny. He asked me if I wanted some of his medicine, and as he put a shiny silver sippy on the table, you came in and punched him and said, “If you ever come near my family again, I’ll kill you.
I wonder how much of a boy I still am in your...
I watch you from the bar as I get us drinks —
New Years,
what a mockery,
older mornings that inevitably fill with “Next year, I am definitely not ____.”s
and blurry kisses,
and bullshit conversations that exist only at unspeakable decibels because of the commotion,
you know, we’re in this ballroom in these outfits that we ridicule and disregard every other day of the...
"Talitha Kum"
You’ve been acting rather tough lately;
hair let down, skinny jeans.
I think about you sometimes
like I know you. I like the white socks
that peek out of your low tops when you walk by
all afflicted like. This whole place is like that, you know,
boasting their work ethic in exaggerated hours and puffy
cheek exhales. I am sitting indian style on a futon covered in
an array of dog...
Waiting for Tuesday.
Jack and Betsy spend Thanksgiving night at Jackie’s house, their middle daughter. Susan, their eldest, drove them across the state line from Maryland with her family. They appreciate the help across the forty-two miles, but say nothing.
Over dinner, Betsy plucks ice pieces soaking in her bourbon. Jack recounts awkward stories of neighbors passed, casually naming them as if his...
122 St. Mark's Place
you are missed.
The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us!
[“we’re in love. we’re in love.”]
(for warmer winter days.)
what would I want? Sky.
The Poems In Which You Star
imperfect and forced and flawed.
уныние или самоубийство
Two paths diverge in a winter wood
both extending toward a respective darkness,
both well explored.
To the right veers muddy road,
a meandering ground filling with wet and dead brown leaves,
the branches above soaked in dew, their bark red and peeling,
a thick holly rests perpendicular in the distance,
light peeking through the tiny openings,
snakes lining the roots.
The opposite trail...
The livid Girl rids Herself of periphery,
poise loosening in full-stride anger,
a flat palm cracking upon a low cheek,
She tears,
“You are going to be very alone for a very long time.”
The Boy’s neck recoils to His straight ahead stare,
bourbon rinsing on the gums like mouthwash,
a neighboring stool pulled out by a heel,
“Would you like to have a drink?”
And if the Old God still defends
we’ve got no chance.
It starts with a stare. I am so nervous that my eyes falter quickly. We’ve talked about it for days, nights, months, but now here we are, Heather and I, on an cloudless Autumn morning. The whole thing is intimidating, really. She has seemed so particular when asking me to meet her here; “it should be quiet”, “it should be private”, “we wouldn’t have to say much”, “we’ll just let go”.
She is...
Searching hard now to get lost
the rain falling like broken pieces from another place
the spoon warms in a dark black alley
an arm flexes to tighten veins
Searching high now to get low
thunder thick on a desert plain
the cacti sway in a breeze
the sun lifting like rolling eyes
searching far now to get close
a deep breath breathing through a bloodied nose
wet concrete sadness scraping at...
Words bleeding from my hand, designs seeping out of you, we are built in defensive mirroring armor. She drives a old blue pick up. She got a filthy mouth. I got these books incapable of curing. I bought em the first time I was pulled apart. Maybe one day we’ll look back on this and smile, but right now we wouldn’t dare. We choose to stay and suffer. We are winter birds. Whatever mess...
I SHIFT SHAPES.
orange.
Times there is a redder blood below
that moves slower
dark syrup
a heavy heart
tongue
drenched with scents of dehydration
and regret
and disappointment
and muted apologies
shaking hands and cold sweats
a cold cell
tears come
from a missed call from home
its a quarter after twelve
half the world’s worried
half the world is gone
white knuckles vertical in pledges and prayers
...
The Boxer Rebellion 1898-1901
I’ve been down plenty of paths that I’d give my whole heart to protect you from.
This is what today sounded like
8:45 Fever Ray Fever Ray
9:30 Lupe Fiasco Enemy of the Heart Mixtape
10:00 The Swell Season (Daytrotter Session 11/30/09)
10:30 Juicy J and Project Pat Cut Throat Mixtape
11:45 Yeasayer “Ambling Alp”
11:50 The Ballet “The House on Fire”
11:55 Hot Chip “Take it in”
12:00 Chris Brown “Sing Like Me”
12:05 Papercuts “White are the...