3rd
12.02.07 (1:28 am) [edit]will i no longer
spill with artificial tongues
so wrapped in my speach
when my promise says
little more than the gap in this temporary window
in my temporary room
cold again,
wrapping my tired arms around my feet
no more nights of writing
for the little i have done
i could laugh, true
2nd
10.10.07 (1:24 pm) [edit]i placed my boots next to my father's shoes
to ask what i had done,
son,
you sleep whether or not
1st
09.19.07 (6:59 pm) [edit]Desensitized to vocabulary
well, compared to, that is
when i knew
such new words
first test, and weak my knees
second test, horizontal. now
woven with the topography
of this tile and stone
old reminders
to the uphill up ahead
true
08.20.07 (8:16 pm) [edit]bundled in a hooded sweatshirt i had neglected to return, covering my crisp dirt off-yellow work shirt and boots which have formed to my liking through the summer. i was looking to meeting a friend for fast food and jokes. construction signs warned of one-lane traffic and right lanes ending. someone jumped the gun- without regard for my position he, or she- but felt like a he, quickly signaled and began his assault into my lane. i would have willingly gave it, as i am early to begin with, but looking in the rear view i saw a day dream girl, staring at the road with still eyes. she wasn't paying attention. she'd collide with me. i eased on the brake with control that surprised me, the car to my front snapped into position without care, with surgical focus i let him into the pocket. i hope i had given my tail-end girl enough room. then, screeching... the sound disrupted the peace of the rain and my new favorite song. she must have been worried when she heard how terrible the sound mixed with the water on the road. it was close, and she knew it. i watched in a daze as she adjusted from the panic to the realization there was no damage done. her face fell to her small hands and my heart sank. she wiped her face again and again... when traffic began to move once more, she hesitated. i wanted to tell her i didn't think she was a fool, sometimes we don't pay attention. for a second i was in her shoes blanketed by my own inefficiencies. i checked my back pocket- it was empty. i plucked the red marker from my swaying key chain and wondered if i had anything sizable enough to write on. there- the index card with jane's number was scribbled on- the horse farmer i worked for. i flipped it over and did my best to make the red letters seem comforting. to save space i wrote "U" in place of "you." i couldn't think of anything special. "are u okay?" i held it out the window as we crept forward in line. looking in the rear view i saw her puzzled face squint to make out the letters. she smiled. she stuck a timid 'thumbs up' out the window and her shoulders rose flush to her ears as she bit her lip. thinking back, i should have replied with another thumbs up... but i just pulled the card back in and felt like myself for the first time in months. i kept the window down, though it was still raining, and dangled my arm carelessly out the side. i felt an honesty i had forgotten about. i loved her for reminding me and i kept looking back to make sure she was still there, she followed me for about a mile and when i flipped my turning signal i didn't want to look back because i knew she would be replaced by another ridge road commuter. but i looked, and she was gone.
the structure of my sleep
allows minimum luxuries
to ensure my waking hour is loud,
triumphant and terrible
instantly the rat, out of my bed
my first thoughts are words i claim not to use
but what is spoken word, when
my thoughts are as low as any man.
screaming from within my clumsy signature
you can see my naked honesty
a low and heavy note-
someone to notice
the reasons for the grinding halt
of my expression
the grinding teeth of failed attempts
to understand
the weightlessness of heavy minds by the window
and, were i home, it may be again
again my obstinate gut is pitted against the odds
and so i will not sleep well tonight
yet the nausea of morning can soften sharp edges
this may be a poem
06.16.07 (10:30 am) [edit]i stumbled out of sleep, out of that oven. from one fire to the next the sun is down my neck. i leave my shirt off and the breeze feels good against my skin. i catch my reflection in a window and realize how abruptly my tan ends, its inevitable- someone will crack a joke at it. what else is there to do? to fill up our days we'll make automated jokes, they're simple, formulated and good natured. Likewise, i fill more space with the states of my mind. a full day of being conscious is damn near impossible for a man to keep. Hung over fills in the gaps.
there are times i catch myself, wondering if what i am doing is truly necessary or if productivity on my personality is up. that's a problem. for this to work i have to flawlessly flush that out of my system. i think this while i zip up after watering the tree. funny. carefree. automated. formula. but i can sit in the irony of my perceptions of my self, following in third person expands your taste of someone- sometimes i believe its more effective than second person. 'you' is too direct and demanding. but it doesn't have to be this way, or at least it wasn't. it's difficult to say, truly- the formula leaves little time for memory. but before i catch myself, i like that. i like remembering. i think its silly when people tell you not to dwell. that nostalgia is useless. what am i if not yesterday? ah, new you say, fresh start. tell you the truth, i don't think that's possible either. not that it matters, i wouldn't try, couldn't try, i know i'd rather keep adding to this misshapen pile. that makes me feel fresh, whole, and accomplished.
when i was in sunday school they handed me a set of words and told me to put a cross over the bad ones, to purify them. words like greed and lust. for the most part i'd agree- it could kill a man. but what struck me was pride. they didn't like that. my father told me to be proud, and that he was proud. my teachers told me to take pride in my work. and i did, when it was due. but God tells me not to be proud, and somehow i think that's the most honest advice he's ever given me. I know what he means now of course, that like all things- moderation is in order. but at the time, my honest hands didn't cross it off. funny- the moderation thing. one of these days i'll listen to myself.
140
05.20.07 (7:57 pm) [edit]dry spell,
the lethargic after taste
on this burnt tongue, not twisted by riddles
but tied by an off-white humming
in my tilted head
up or down, i never look forward
if walking straight is so easy, never am i sober
drunk on edge, on timing, on circumstance
the officer will ask what i have drank,
yet i've been breathing with this, since the entrance to spring
i have been breathing
with this entrance to spring
i am willing to offer a cold breeze to
fever dreams,
or warmth and comfort in shade
my hands ask not to mingle
though thier pride will be their end
yet i soften labored hands
and i know i have been driven like the snow
but this is cooling, faster than i can
friends before
have offered women like good food
when all you wanted was dinner with the family
my saving grace, i suppose
is declining.
and if no longer i splash stars
it's one more
coffee to wake in day
and a cigarette to stay sleeping
in night,
the smoke at my side
has charcoaled my sheets
the scents in my pillow affecting my dream
and what sense has been pillowed?
leaving process behind,
it was simple
by the mosquito's position on the wall
i can tell he doesn't want my blood
more concerned with making his break
his entrance long forgotten
i quietly watch his relentless beating against the wall
hesitant to touch
i hate mosquitos and i'm often quick to kill
if not, my eyes become concrete
too quick or too still
now,
with my thin thighs
pocketed by my neck and chin.
cause of these blemishes i am no longer
called for by the wind and rythm of this city.
5
04.22.07 (10:04 pm) [edit]i met this place
while the hollow in my gut
reached the tips of my fingers.
sleepless light gleaming off the shifted metal-
my only witness a dumpster.
your name, god given
and actors placed
echoes through my head.
through and through
while on this 7th day
god rests beneath several feet of cement
i hear his quiet breathing,
and i wont disturb him
4
03.24.07 (8:12 pm) [edit]neck crumpled along with the sheets
my thin hand falls
upon my jutting hip bone
craving a wave of some crushing
ocean upon my shoulder
beneath the weak hydrogen bonds
i could then kick flail and release
a silent scream until surfaced.
instead, no ocean.
repose.
threatening silence void of calm
tongue biting mind racing anxious knuckles
in repose.
if for nothing
[ohter than the simple movement]
my body slips
met by cold skin, the floor is welcoming
i am not poeticly counting
the cracks in the ceiling
3
03.23.07 (5:08 pm) [edit]with nail biting efficiencey
i debate my every
move
the mind which craves
ease of heart
1
03.15.07 (10:45 pm) [edit]i cannot hear the holes between my teeth
like i hear the holes in my lungs
i can feel the words which slip between them
reluctantly
a discourse, like heavy breathing
a mind set on skipping stones
is all i find
and if i understood the masonry
of words, o the things i could tell you
something i wrote in a small book and never figured out
02.26.07 (3:30 pm) [edit]Noise, set loose-
I stand uncharted.
Backstabbed Knees- am startled
Bitter taste tongue,
a common mistake.
Place now known
remembered, noted
forgotten tomorrow.
Reason sore.
Selfish notice with
selfless coating.
Guilt chipped painting
helping hand left unspent
pray a lie
self portrait- shame?
Hidden. Raked.
Composition pulled, we
both known.
end flights
02.10.07 (5:54 pm) [edit]
in agreement with the dead weight in my mind
my constitution sets foot and refuses to give
although i have long sense had a reason
to move forward.
131
01.19.07 (10:19 pm) [edit]finding fault with the rocks i toss
leaving no echo
no trace
no noise to truly tell me i threw them at all.
realizing this ever present doubt-
my constitution shatters.
collapsed,
i am for this wall to understand
this parking lot to wonder
this snow to breathe with
i feel my colours leaving.