Tuesday, September 30, 2008

I would sit in the forevers, but mornings come between my ears.

How many different people are you?

Friday, September 26, 2008

somewhere in your home is a house
where you keep the list of things you left behind
when 'wait' was the loudest thing you'd heard in a long time
the difference being:
the Difference Being

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Piles of pages sitting heavy on your chest Like a mean older brother cutting off your breath All of them waiting for you to cry "uncle" Kicking up your knees, you only want to breathe

Not wanting to die under the backside of truths Arguing angrily over who's heavier ink
And all you can do under little puffs of chest Is think how desperately you want to move As the chatter of ink slowly kills you

Clearly, you know, the only means of escape Is something hardly ever uttered in games An Expression of humourless pain And all the pages fall to the floor

A smile comes to your face When you repeat your redeemer: "OW! I'M SERIOUS!" "OW! I'M SERIOUS!" "OW! I'M SERIOUS!" As you drool and play like a child

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

when your ideatop found out it was running out of things to forget
a list was created
maybe divine
incredibly accommodating

in the beginning, you blow kisses to inanimate objects
later on, you wonder if you meant them
and near the end, you start over.

somewhere in between, you wash your intangibles with delicates, fold a few together in confusion and

when you turned the corner, your frontside in the sun was enough to start fires
somewhere near, a mother is settling, and you've learned how to feel like you can save her
So why are you still setting fires?

you go looking and can't help but feel your geographic immunity being compromised

warmer and
bushes ablaze remind you of dreams where you lay down and become trees
your roots are still warm this way
your roots could carry what this woman needs
So then why was she settling?

some cherries grow
and others, they'll burn
through fabric and hearts and
homes made of wood

This was never your fire.
You measure them incorrectly.
Can I trust you to remember soft?
For when they ask us to believe?

Head up, eyes closed, nose toward the sun;
you can find you can find you.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

with walls like these
concrete like this?
It might not matter how hard we are trying.

oh, there's a widow in our windows
You laught because you're still afraid of home
draw graphs.

leave charts in alleyways
behind complexes
to prove to transients and garbagemen your ideas match what you think pass as actions.

It's not just your feet that are wet anymore;
You are not almost there;
And you should be scared.

Friday, September 12, 2008

the first time you get lost
you are almost there

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

You will call yourself, see the stars below you.
Walk in the dark, count to a thousand.
Prowl at night, find the infinitesimal caress.
Prowl at night, find the infinitesimal caress.
Prowl at night
Find the infinitesimal caress
Call yourself
Find the infinitesimal caress

the last words we heard were attics, so
now we are climbing.

Monday, September 8, 2008

there are neighbors
some have guns
in time
for when we're out of trying
but still in line
spinning slightly.

so take their thoughts
and run with them
take their fights
and finish them
it's okay to be shy
but only some of the time
and it's okay to lie
if it's beside your lover

bail the rest from the well
since each sunset is so lazy
tracing another outline of your faces
fooling no one but you
We see you.


only some flowers bloom
so fireflies don't have to learn how to fly
take their fires
and finish them
and most of the time, it's okay to cry

Friday, September 5, 2008

I knew eyes, with a girl like sockets drowning themselves
and I met ears with a coyote, over coffee;
she told me,

"We're just as lonely."