over the course of fifteen minutes
i manage to position myself in the chair
in such a way that places the lamp
directly behind her, creating a silhouette,
a geometry that draws me away from
the conversation that the five of us drunks
are fumbling with. now it is me and her
dark shape or rather me watching her
dark shape, watching her perfect profile,
her lips moving like a magician's hands
pulling in the evening's raw ether
and doing impossible things to it within her,
seeing it emerge as something beautiful
and new, the room sizzling with the heat
of its creation, as lightning pushes the air apart
with thin hands only to have the chasm close
in on itself violently, thunder announcing
the blasphemy in creating such a void
with careless haste. her lips are quilting
intricate patterns and colors of thought,
a patchwork i will hang in that small room
of my mind where i retreat during storms.
March 22, 2009
March 13, 2009
March 9, 2009
This Ideal Romance
Will play out very similarly to a
zombie movie, with us starringas the last two surviving humans
sticking to our guns, always
on the run, bashing in the decaying
brains of the walking dead. The whole
thing will be funded with a few
credit cards and the special effects
will suffer for it, but that's half
the charm. The critics will
pan it and we won't care.
We'll be too busy racing through
the abandoned streets of some
nameless suburb, warm hand
in warm hand, shotguns slung over
our shoulders, eyes scouring the
overgrown hedges for movement.
We will rarely rest, and the food
will be stale, awful. But we will be strong
with the knowledge that we are the
most brilliant, the most beautiful,
the most alive.
Be comforted in knowing that,
should you succumb to the disease,
should the life start to slip from clenched
fists, that I will grab your neck with filthy
fingers and kiss you passionately before
aligning our heads in such a way that
a single pull of the trigger will bring the film
to a close.
The director will cut the filming right then and leap
from his chair to scream at us. He wanted one of us
to walk off alone, to carry on the fight for the sequels.
We will demand a rewrite. What could he know
of our embattled existence?
No, we will die
together, sharing the last living breath between us.
We'll be too busy racing through
the abandoned streets of some
nameless suburb, warm hand
in warm hand, shotguns slung over
our shoulders, eyes scouring the
overgrown hedges for movement.
We will rarely rest, and the food
will be stale, awful. But we will be strong
with the knowledge that we are the
most brilliant, the most beautiful,
the most alive.
Be comforted in knowing that,
should you succumb to the disease,
should the life start to slip from clenched
fists, that I will grab your neck with filthy
fingers and kiss you passionately before
aligning our heads in such a way that
a single pull of the trigger will bring the film
to a close.
The director will cut the filming right then and leap
from his chair to scream at us. He wanted one of us
to walk off alone, to carry on the fight for the sequels.
We will demand a rewrite. What could he know
of our embattled existence?
No, we will die
together, sharing the last living breath between us.
March 8, 2009
i was briefly a giant
a warm day in march and the sun
is rubbing my shoulders and the
dead trees are reaching up to grab
my hands as i pass and i am not
even bothering to look at where i
am going i mean i could step on a
schoolbus right now and the screams
of children would be the tiny wiggling
of ants' antennas i am strong and my
shadow stretches clear into the next
county i will swat the birds out of the
sky and push the hills around i am
a glacier all smiles and nothing i mean
nothing will ever stop me
nothing can ever stop me
is rubbing my shoulders and the
dead trees are reaching up to grab
my hands as i pass and i am not
even bothering to look at where i
am going i mean i could step on a
schoolbus right now and the screams
of children would be the tiny wiggling
of ants' antennas i am strong and my
shadow stretches clear into the next
county i will swat the birds out of the
sky and push the hills around i am
a glacier all smiles and nothing i mean
nothing will ever stop me
nothing can ever stop me
penalty
if dating were like soccer
i would have been thrown
out of the game long ago
for dangerous play or for
touching with my hands or
for showing up to the game
with skis on my feet.
i would have been thrown
out of the game long ago
for dangerous play or for
touching with my hands or
for showing up to the game
with skis on my feet.
River
The wind snakes across the dark water,
small fingers rippling the surface
before darting up the muddy banks
where we stand.
With a grin, the cold wind
maneuvers clumsily
through our hair
as it races to whisper
our secrets to the pine trees.
small fingers rippling the surface
before darting up the muddy banks
where we stand.
With a grin, the cold wind
maneuvers clumsily
through our hair
as it races to whisper
our secrets to the pine trees.
Her Art
She dives into it as if a river,
staying submerged until her
lungs are burning for the real
and is forced to the surface,
breathing in the stale world
in large, quivering gasps.
The tears in her eyes are all
but invisible to the mud-smeared
boys watching from the shore,
poking each other with sticks
and pissing in the bushes.
staying submerged until her
lungs are burning for the real
and is forced to the surface,
breathing in the stale world
in large, quivering gasps.
The tears in her eyes are all
but invisible to the mud-smeared
boys watching from the shore,
poking each other with sticks
and pissing in the bushes.
alight
the streetlamp cranes its neck to
silently watch each snowflake settle.
a girl walks over to it and removes
a mitten to touch the chill metal.
the lamp trembles, spilling yellow light
across the empty street.
the night fills with the warm hum
of electricity, a steady heartbeat.
silently watch each snowflake settle.
a girl walks over to it and removes
a mitten to touch the chill metal.
the lamp trembles, spilling yellow light
across the empty street.
the night fills with the warm hum
of electricity, a steady heartbeat.