Sunday, June 27, 2010

what is hard

singing thru your teeth.

and merging into endlessness.

and craving brokenness.

and forcing repetition.

today i end and begin outside of me
a tree does not say hello
a tree i cannot love
or i can love
only if i am willing to take the extra hate

gross statues in my room
their curt stretching
graphs ripples onto skin
i swear it was mine
it was all mine

is that all we are?
an item--filling up space.
blankness overturned
shells or coins unnumbered
and toothless beckoning
become one of us
become a number
because easy
and never expose oneself.

i do not want to share
myself with today--
a bottle of pills and a
container of contact fluid
a ticket for speeding
a black purse and a spoon
on top of a box
filled with cell phone
chargers and things
i share i share
out outlines cannot merge
they be and begin
they touch and do not
they fragment and dispose
of beginnings, rotten beginnings
and all i see around me
are endings, and more
where i could never fall
where the light once never
shed, where now faces
stretch endlessly
but only in my mind
in the real world faces
do not exist anymore.

why is it that
everything i feel around me
crushes me--i cannot share
today with these things
my apartment meddles
in my consciousness
becoming me
i dont want you!
i want to scream
but then i know i'd be lying.
because i do, and i did
i needed something
intricate staring me in the eye
and i needed to believe i was that thing.

once, you begin
later you throw away
this part of yourself;
once, you swallow holes
later you burn at the outline
once, you believed
and later you come to consciousness
wicked and grieving
and you grow from fantasy
into submission
and your imagination
shuns all outsiders
and your dreams
belittle the truth.

i have exhumed
three other selves
this morning--sent them scorching
out of me, their burned bodies
crumbling into ash
and blowing away
without a breeze.

there is a shelf
and on it i store
what was once a little
version of jill summer time
she rose and fell and
navigated wheels and time
and then the little hair
of earth crawled onto her shoulder
and she was forced to see
what she could not see.

don't bother
opening any doors
they are all closed
they are all closed
they are all always closed
and so will you be closed

further from faith
we strain our voices
further from understand
we plant our sweet bodies
and further from distance
we cannot mask our sadness
living in sorrow and tomorrow

what time is it
i have plans to rise
i have to court air
i have a new route to control
i have to arrange tragedies
and damn options
i have forgotten
that a deal is a deal is a deal

Thursday, June 17, 2010

aubade while listening to eminem

i like the day
to land in
and fragment
sills and window
views that let me in
still and infinite
i carry waste and load
a truck full of
heavy undertow you
wanna get pulled under
the lack retreats and pulls you in
feel a crossroads of animals
stranded on a leaf
and make chances
to jump branches
take a smoke
upside down and crawling
battered and sheltered
cars veer headless
while morning blue
soaks lines like anger
and crunches out the heart
until it beats colors
carry fortunes
liberal in pockets
burn truths
until they coat like
blankets of smoke
siren orange
in a box of speak
to shit on eyes that stare
and i dont care
fuck time
and bleed out elements.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

june 16 2010

to be in love with death
death as fragments of virtual
fantasy retroactive
and spelling out a murmur
don't we all know that what loves
comes to us twice, once
in our pain, and another
through the laughing
annointance of day to night, night
to day, and in between
we are lost, alone
uprooted, we fathom ourselves
beginners of some virtual oath
and crave a skeptical light to worship
our plugged up souls.

whatever gives
whatever gives
you already know the rest
of the equation
but take it away
take it away
be left alone in your heart
be alone and still
wide open and free
let a little voice
wind a door or trail
through screaming hills
once we go back
we can never go forward
but once we begin to
want, there exists nothing
that will ever again touch us.

first, the pain of living.
then, the remorse of others death.
and then, the hero of our own end of life.
once it comes, a blissful voice, we trill
a note along the sorrow of clouds
again and again our hello
screams to the void
and emptiness follows
and virtual truths impose themselves
on your fragmented, collected

what shame we have
in fleeing or wanting death
death cannot overtake us
without our consent
we like to tell ourselves
well death has already come
to your door and plugged
up its ear to listen to you breathing
yes death has already made you a friend
when will you say hello back to him?

we unite
in our world
with faces full of hatred
and noises that pollute battered silence
and then again we might take a turn
reaching out
there might be an arm
something solid to grasp
or a picture
a photo to remind you
how to nestle in the space of life
and to live is to run away
to run away breathing your words
internally to emptiness
and to always collect spaces
like they were yours, because
they were, mine and nobody's.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

aubade june 15

what turns over
my filthy little heart
its broken doors
run hiding from neutral announcements
i have allowed six things
to pass discretely through me
shunned the rest
although what is tangled
between earth and love
comes unbroken through shelves
where i do not pluck from.

hidden neath underside of heart
why blackness
what has rotted and what turns and turns
roiling in fantasy and sickness.
what you do not know
laughs and sticks to garden
voices and plummets downward
into the frozen tundra of you.

i have not allowed
morning to come
unbuckling through me:
but yet it melts
over skin and feeling
returns me to time.
another time would lapse
and i would fracture my understanding
for a little light
a little dose of what we should call hurt
fathomed as light well yes
they are the same thing: hurt and light
come cradling the same voice
and yet we do not know them
by the same name
only they know us
by our broken triangles.

shelves present:
morning, silvery digits
i have not yet woken
words scream utter silence
i have fingers they blink lights
and in the trees my toes curl objectively
mine and not yours
mine and not yours
today is celestial
the broken tooth of sunrise
commits errors and i screen the voices
of tomorrow for their dirty silences
once again i come crawling
out of some face
belligerent and posing
allowing me to ask for neon
and bending me toward the moon.

Monday, June 14, 2010

aubade june 14

this morning is the insatiable urge
for insatiable urges.
this morning a blackness follows me
round and round until we meet
where lines dissolve.

this morning everything i have ever known
and this is good.
i don't know what i would do without a good morning
to rob me of wit, wisdom and faith
to remind me of color and only
of color
to help keep me blank
to bring me home.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

A Tragedy

I don't want to die.
But there are the black letters
Telling me so.

I have fear and shame
In my heart
That have made a home.

I hear whispers
Of eternity all the time
And in them I admit
I drink freely.

I own nothing;
And yet in dreams You come to me
The tongue and salt of my wounds

And I am unbroken
And noises dangle like letters
I swear I listen to your faith break
As true as I was born alone.

Saturday, June 12, 2010


here i am awake. i should be thankful. already lists are running away with me in my head. i wish i could have a moment of peace. i probably could, if i tried a little harder. i am fucking lazy. but that's okay. be gentle on yourself.

i dont have much to say. bla bla bla. i am listening to john mayer. he makes me happy. i feel for him. what else what else. am going to the beach today. should be good. the last time i went it was gorgeous. im excited.

im moving to atlanta. i hate just repeating things im doing on here. what a waste. here's a lil poemmmmmm:

good morning morning
hello day day
what ever ever
today today i will be
i will i will i say
things things they repeat
oh and numbers and colors what else what
little beginnings remote remote we fall
we fall we say we own
other things things
together together
nothing else even
exists exists

Saturday, June 5, 2010

trying to develop a character for a story


She: blank ---

and words like



gore and sure and juror

there is no NOTHING you are not random you not even but she

this is not even fractured

a little bit of well you and me

coming and going and

shelves: put me on

and sell me

and hold the thought: hold HER IN YOUR MIND -- tickle the death of


Because SHE might not breathe unless YOU


i wish i could come up with titles for these damn things

Waking up
And wanting
And waking up only to want

How do I know
Today well it greets me
Its simple skin and mine

Once a girl woke up
Her legs were asleep but
Her mind was not

Oh tree how you hold
Thoughts in
Green leaves throwing
Words back at me without
Judging, hanging back
And listening

Yes is the answer
Always the most simple
And agreeable
And if you use it
There will be freedom