Monday, May 31, 2010

may 31 2010 monday

O world
Simple and slow
Not world in me
Not world in me


When will I know
I ask the wind
I ask the rain
I ask them every day
Questions, questions

We are here:
This is the numbing
Of my soul
This is me
Smoking a new cigarette
Silencer of thoughts
Listening to the rain
Beat the hard ground in punishment.

Once I could not
Remember me
I was driving
I call my parents
I go on a bike ride
I cannot remember
The world, the past
It stretches out blankly
In black. Or in white
It is an absence
Or it is the filling of everything.

Today his name is a poem
Today I feel love and tomorrow
Tomorrow I will feel

Last one to know
Is always me
Last one to strip away
The protective vest
And feel the velvet
Of moist words
Or feel without them
Feel the blank
Voiceness noise
Of nothing, it coos
My name, it hears
Nothing back
And nothings
Join together
And I stretch out to meet them
I stretch out
And I listen to emptiness.

See we all know
How this goes
The day being like a prayer
When you wake up
You get down on your knees
You waking up
Today
Is nothing less than a miracle
Nothing less
And yet a miracle
Isnt that something to behold
Isnt it something to remember
Not to regret
But a miracle
How do you know yourself?
Miracles do not go by
Names, miracles
They just exist and then
Scrape back along the intangible
And you are left remembering
What it is like to be touched
In darkness.

Me oh her
Oh six fingered
Oh counting
Oh what is simple
What is never simple
Oh this time
Stretching out
And the rain
Here we go
A listing of things
Always brings about
A memorium of thoughts
On this day
The day that is a memorial
The day that I forgot
Ringing truth like a newspaper
A black and white dampness
Stretched across hands
And clouds
They speak natures to me
And the ex boyfriend
Who lives across the street
He begins to end
In the voice
In the emptiness of voice I guess
Here is she still
She does not know
The writing flirts
With emptiness
The writing tries to make sound
And does it fail?
And would this be succeeding, then?

Rain is fat and hard
Rain is all those things I hate
And I love rain
I love the way it beats
I love the way
It never curves
Knowing just what it wants
Hit the ground
Hit the fucking fucking ground.

Lips stretch out to me to speak
They carry within them
Well nothing but we call it
Yes we hear our own names
Every day in this silence
I hear my name
In my head in the shower
Am I schizophrenic?
I think again again
Am I god? I think will God
Know its me and how will I know
When I meet God?
How will I know how to tremble
In front of something I have both
Always known and yet never
Been able to fathom?
The answers
Are always easier than asking.

Blurring the beginnings
Here I exist
I am typing
I make noise
A noise I don’t hear
No one else hears it
But I know
It’s there
How you ask? Well you
Are reading this. You have
Fingers and toes like me
You live and you will
Die, maybe
And then we will
Begin to count, souls
The souls they have voices
And the souls they have colors
And we cant see them
They exist in the thunder
They spin and collect
Dishes of hardness
Shattering shattering
You cannot hear their noise but
It hears you and their noise
Well its enveloping of you
Is simply how you exist.
If it weren’t for their background
Of simple white noise
There would not be this blur
Of you, stretching into shapeless
Shapes, you would not be
Typing their words.

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