Thursday, September 30, 2010

madness is like love

I've struggled.
I can't help but wonder
what is me and more importantly,
what is not.
That is to say:
Where does me begin and end,
and where does the not me begin?

Is me just a soul? Is me this body?
Is me the clothes I wear or the words I speak;
the bed I sleep in, the posters on my walls?
Is me my friends? My family? My lovers?
Is me the house I live in, the city I work in,
the nation I pledge to, the religion I have
faith in, the earth I live on?
Is me the air I breathe or the grass I lay on;
or is me the food I eat, the books I read,
the songs I sing or the words I speak?
Is me my thoughts? My actions? My attitude?
My personality--
Is me the rain that falls around me, or
the sunlight that warms me, or the darkness
that blankets me each night?
Is me the buses I ride each day or the sights
I see; is me the art I look at or the music
I listen to or the philosophies I discuss?
Or is me the classes I take? The jobs I apply for?
The things I buy, the things I steal, the things
I wish for and will never have?
Is me my dreams? My goals? My aspirations of life?
Is me the hounded slave, the mash'd fireman?

We argued. But I confess that without your knowledge,
I found myself arguing more with me, than you. I'm sorry
for that--you deserved my full attention.

Monday, September 27, 2010

I stayed, and watched him circle the drain.

I found a stinkbug in my house.
Bastards are everywhere.
I hear by word of mouth
that squashing them is a bad


idea. Well I wasn't about to let him
go out and repopulate Pittsburgh
with his infiltrating offspring.

So I flushed him. I stayed.
I watched him circle the drain.

I did it with a smirk on my face
and yelled at him, "HOW DO YOU LIKE
INSIDE NOW?!" He got the point.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

There's a flock of geese
somewhere around Frick Park,
I can hear them from here.

They sound surprisingly angry.

The crickets that live outside my window
don't seem terribly worried, though.


The geese have stopped.
Now it's the neighbors that seem angry.

No gunshots yet.

The crickets are still unafraid.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

"Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung."

Thursday, September 9, 2010

ATTENTION: debate in progress.

So in my Reading Poetry class, the topic of "shaped poems" came up. The argument in our essay read that it added a new dimension to the poetry and helped develop the visual stimulation necessary to fully appreciate the words on the page for that given poem. A number of people in the class, teacher included, seem to disagree, saying its a gimmick that doesn't add value to the poem and seems to distract from the ideas in place.

Seeing as a number of poets, poetry readers, and just plain poetic souls occasionally pass by this blog, I'm curious to hear what anyone who sees this has to say. This is, I believe, the first time I've ever called out to the people for a response, so I guess it's also an experiment on that front, as well. I wonder.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

bring me the stars?

I've lost my place in my mind.
Current finances indicate I can
continue living for approximately
two months.
Current curriculum indicates I can not
afford a job.
Current living situation indicates
I can not afford no job.
I will be having an average of

two hundred

pages a week to read.
Bring me the stars and I'll
take you away we'll take us away
you can take me away and
we'll live as the wolves.
The wolves.