By turns money in my pocket, but a crushed can and a crushed banana. The life leftovers in a world of plastic.
My unprotected heart and cold beer.
Wet ass from bike ride in the rain on a day after acting stupid and being the only one to know it.
That and the heart, broke with satisfaction.
Wet on a crush. The roof leaks.
The book's new chapter line is just perfect: Turns Out This Wasn't a Real Date.
this is my one good line
my single sword proclaiming
in a theatre of stars
His dream and its implications are inconsistent with the reality he's been waking up to.
Bless you. Have money and aching eyes, joints. Deep breath. Pleased to finally exhale.
Need a new battery for a new thing by turns not loud enough and imperfect.
We really think how our great grandparents thought.
Fifteen people thinking and dreaming thru us at any one time.
A Sunday feeling on a Saturday starting out so nice with weather clear and warm. Then hail and dismal looks from under mascara eyes dirt.
Nothing special. Shivering eyes, empty hellos. Doesn't feel so lovely and good as when flesh pumps real from love's outpouring in a humble heart.
I will not be afraid to read
to get reborn on the moon
In my world
In my work
Mention that organ again. Take all the wrong bait.
Lobbing back weirdo walls within walls- that warm room my own that nobody's been invited to touch.
So thankful for a knot of pressure working in where the things I thought I understood used to be.
For the notion that one has to take a stand in life against the suicide note is a refusal to suffer the fool in oneself.
-When you get home tonight, do this
-Watch everything made by Alejandro Jodorowsky. Or at least have it on in the background while you execute the following.
-Consume as much chocolate as you have available.
-Put on all the jewelry you can find and take a slow-motion capture set of yourself in the bath. Candles=bonus points for the score you're not keeping.
-Make a stack of similiar objects. Glue them together, then spraypaint them aquamarine or a breenish color. This is your new magick wand.
-Start a list. Call it "What I Fear Most."
-If you name the next poem you write "Seep, Swallow" What will follow?
-Start another list. It will contain a hundred things.
-After all this, what else is important? Answer in 400 words and red marker on your kitchen wall.