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
body.

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.

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.

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
dissolves.
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.

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.

GMORNING

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

trying to develop a character for a story

evie:

She: blank ---

and words like

WELL HELLO ALL THE EASIEST

words.

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

Her.

Because SHE might not breathe unless YOU

DO.

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
Always
There will be freedom