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(Untitled)
Needless Drama Day.
I brought her a muffin.
It came flying back my way.
Now needless to say
I've got breakfast for tomorrow
and
yeah, whatever.
Ki
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something (almost) true.
at this point,
everyone knows.
or at least, if they don't,
they never will.
i can feel it--
the coiling upon myself.
it's comfortable.
and chilling.
i don't love you.
and donnie darko never makes me cry.
i always say never. -
new poem : "tales of the day"
tales of the day
I am in the morning of silence, the drought of the first half of the
Western world; I look on the functions of industry from its variant
spiritual homes-places like Nikel, Murmansk Oblast, Russia,
standing in blue-black snow with the glitter of cobalt raining down
on me.
I am left panting-not out of breath nor drooling but out of ( Read more... ) -
the lagoon
i can think of millions of things you would say to me,
but it seems you never will
so i'll hide my face in the star-reflected mirror saying
im not there, im not there
still yet the lagoon was that pure pool
where everything lived for the first time
you said my eyes were like the owls but
i felt harrowed and shy
cause i can't, yet
gossamer wand on an ( Read more... ) -
new poem : "North Brother Island"
North Brother Island
morning to take us across the broad black of river,
boat pushed to water in meekness, slowness, still damp
from its nocturnal outing. past. something before:
everything of rivers is always past.
all. the thin air and thick water vapors which rises
off rivertides early in the morning. I who cannot
sleep, many miles to ( Read more... ) -
new poem : "sand we really cannot see"
sand we really cannot see
pero yo soy el tigre; es un fuego que me consume, pero yo soy el fuego
-Jorge Luis Borges
we are on a beach I wish to call black: I want black sand, a slight tint
of magenta and an overcast night-with the moon curtained by clouds.
though this sand is gently white, you still in utter darkness walk to me. swim to me.
we are ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
Abuse. It's such a big, ugly, dramatic word. It's hard for me to say it without feeling melodramatic, overreactive. That was always your favorite tool, to use my inability to trust my own emotions against me, making me feel like I was overreacting. I look back now and struggle to find a time when you were genuinely worried about my hurting, and ( Read more... ) -
Haunted
As I should have expected, talking to you instantly threw my world right back into chaos. I should have known better and just waited in silence for you to return, but I don't ever learn, and the thing I am farthest from learning is patience. In a way, I'm glad. I feel that I was able to say a few things that I'd felt for a long time but been ( Read more... ) -
new poem : "mala in se"
mala in se
"BELIAL came last, then whom a Spirit more lewd Fell not from Heaven,
or more gross to love Vice for it self: To him no Temple stood"
-John Milton
Dearest Max, and also that dear Timothy
(for what epistle was ever written to any Max?) :
I write, first of all, to implore you to guard the trust.
I think you know better than I the errors we face ( Read more... ) -
moments in time.
i cut and then watch the blood trickle and drop into the sink or onto the floor.
shades of postbox red to deep purple
add some water and the drops seep into each other and create veins like trees or rivers seen from space.
what is it to be alive, is it to have a pulse, to go to work, to have obligations and responsabilitys?
is it the birth of new ( Read more... )