71A, Friday Night. 8:30, Maybe 9:00

I rode the bus home
and took special notice
of the frozen expressions
on people’s faces. Still.
Complacent. We hit a bump
and I bit the inside of my cheek.

I wondered if my demeanor
looked as dejected to them as
theirs to me. Each bump and roll
dragged their heads in unison,
left, right. The faces kept steady,
unmoved, staring straight ahead.

The bite started to throb and my
mouth tasted of iron. I pushed my
tongue in the hole to see if I could
still feel pain.

Oh where's my brain?

i wish i could write a book
called the book of nods.
actually,
i wish i could write a book
that consisted of all the
postcards i've received.
unfortunately, i haven't that
many.

hmm...

and an extra note:

I need to find new pictures for postcarding.
I like to send postcards.
Tell me if you want one.
Because I have a whole bunch of polar bear stamps.
I make my own. That makes them one of a kind.

The postcards. Not the polar bear stamps.
They remind me of Coca-Cola.
Yum.

Seriously. I'll send you one.

hanging in and holding fast

I cant form a coherent thought
that would make
sense to put here for
some people someone to read
but instead I'm just going
to write and every now and then
hit enter so some crazy person
flipping through blogs will
glance and think its some
awesome poem or something
because of the way it's

spaced.
Good word.

No one is here anymore.
Including me.
Maybe I started that trend.
I don't know what else to say.
Or where to start.

maybe you're right...

maybe i am.
im trying to get out of it.
dodge it at all costs.
it doesn't feel like it.
it doesn't feel right.

i cant feel my brain

longlonglonglonglonglonglonglonglong
longlonglonglonglonglonglonglonglong

i've lost my place

I've been dropped headfirst
in a sea... in a sea
of possibilities
(responsibilities)
I've told you already
I can not start from
this.
I can not get from here to there
without an arrow.
without a light.
without

HI THERESA :)

Listen

Trigger Finger.
Things I Need To Read.
To Be Read In 500 Years.
The floor is rumbling.
War.
And you.

tonight and last night and the night before last and the night before the night before last

Where is truth?
Where are you?
I've had a falling out of sorts.
I worked this morning.
I couldn't see straight.
I can't see straight anymore.
I've an appointment to switch.
I've lost touch with
I've a project to do.
I have to clean this place
clean this place up. I have to clean
this place up.
reality.
OHIKNOWI KNOWWHAT YOUARETHINKING
but ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
i promise you
i'l show yu
its ont that i want ot prfove to you
its not that ims ohwing you up
i really ne ed
to

I'm glad now

because if it had happened any other way,
I might feel differently. It went as it
went, and as a result, I think I can say
now, that I am at peace. Not at peace
with you, well maybe in a sense, but
at peace with who you are. At peace with
who I am. At peace with where we are,
and never regretting who we will never
be, anymore. I've other things to worry
about, now. I no longer need you.
I am different today than I was
yesterday. Maybe you know that.
Maybe you never will. But I am
okay with that now. Because
our paths are no longer
parallel. We have gone
our separate ways and
I can honestly say
that in my humble
opinion, I have
taken the time
to grow, just
a little bit
more from
it all.
Sorry,
and

I won't forget. Or regret.

Do I really need to continue?

Please tell me you get the gist.

God and "Echoes"

≈

God and Ludwig Van

≈

God and the Blues

≈

There's a point

in everyone's life when they realize
THIS IS IT.
I haven't found it.
I've only found this thing that happens
when I see you. When I.
Heat Heat Heat.
I haven't listened to
The Velvet Underground since I saw that
thing I saw. You know the one.
(the filmstrip)
Heat.
Oh, God, the heat.
Oh, God, aubade.
Another dawn.
Another day.

I have

lost it.
lost it.
llllllllooostmy
I've lost it.
I have. loossssst

Why Oh Why Ode

Why oh why is no one awake
It's not that late, is it?
Maybe it is, but in Moscow
it's almost noon. Eleven
in Helsinki. I don't know
anyone in either of those
places but I feel like I should.
I would be a perfect American
correspondant for lunchtime phone meetings.

I'm not a delegate though, and that's okay.
Cuz I'm a detective.

I'm still horrible about titling

That incessant clickickickickick
just bothered me more than some music does.
Speaking of music, I heard some today.
You asked me about things that weren't
music, and I listened to some, remembering
where I was when I first heard it felt it.
Saw it felt it. That's when I realized
how often I do. Sometimes it takes an
odd thing to make me realize something.

I think, in a way, and this is an entirely
new subject, I hope I'm right about you,
and this. And that, as well. In a way,
I like to think I've figured you out. I
like to think you are still there, even
though its perfectly logical to believe
you aren't. Maybe one day you will.
Maybe one day, I won't care.

Final

I've a chapbook to write, and nothing
to write it about. Theme not necessary
but I will have it. Unless I can't.
In which case, I accept. Fifteen pages
doesn't come easy, you know. Or does it?

I...........

I am going to go fall off my roof.
Don't worry, its only an expression.
It just means
I'm gonna go jump off my roof.

an abecedarius for you

Aside from the considerable
bargain she got, this was just another
crummy urban apartment,
deteriorating wood-panel walls,
exhausted furniture positioned to hide
foul carpet stains that are far too
gruesome to even think about identifying.
Heaps of used fly paper crumpled
in the corner of the living room and
just for the sake of knowing, she
kicked it away and sure enough, there
lay a successfully executed rat trap.

Maybe it wasn’t how she had imagined
New York to be, but it was quite
obvious to her that this was home now.
Perhaps it wasn't the most glamorous, but
Queens isn’t too bad, she thought, and
really it would only be a few gigs before
she could afford a classier pad.
Throwing her bags on seemingly the only
unsullied spot on the couch, she
voraciously set to redecorating, covering her
walls with posters and photographs and
Xeroxed copies of album covers,
yearning for her chance to be great just like
Zevon, or Zeppelin, or ZZ Top.

Here we go again

So I'm here again,
finally alone
and without distraction.
Yet productivity?
Minimum.
It's 3:10 now,
and my solid plan
of studying from
11 to 11 has been
reduced to 3:30
until whenever.

Too often.
I've got to decide
on a fixed form,
as well. Not sure
when that will happen,
but I'm sure
I'll figure that one out
at around midnight.
I always do.
Life.
It used to be simpler.

just a thought

I
feel
that
this
is
you,

---

and
this,
me.

Inseparable
by all things,
but by this,
a lone thread
of distrust.