And it's strange, and it's quieting down (because truly, you can only think about someone *so* much when you don't know when you'll see them again, when you don't know if they hate your guts [i don't think she does, but... who knows. i acted like an ass, but before that, we were 'talkin' story' for at least 2 days straight. it was easy, it was ( Read more... )

..And i can't keep the Rails off my mind ( Read more... )

' two years he walks the earth. no phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. ultimate Freedom. an extremist. an aesthetic voyager whose only home is the Road. Thou shalt not return, 'cause 'the West is the best.' And now, after two rambling years comes the final and greatest adventure. the climactic battle to kill the false being within and ( Read more... )

i don't know how to write it, for it was nothing more than a stumbling into a Grace so strong, so pure, so driven and infused with the crystalline energy of those Mountains, bestowed upon me solely by the feel of his hands on my body, of his lips upon mine - perhaps all we can do is revert to the Apostle Paul's intrinsic wisdom ( Read more... )

'i was young i was so young it hurt like a knife / inside, / because there was no alternative except to hide as long / as possible - / not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance: / trying to connect...' [buk ( Read more... )

i can't tell you what it really is, i can only tell you what it feels like. / and right now, there's a steel pipe in my windpipe. / i can't breathe, but i still fight while i can fight, / as long as the wrong feels right, it's like i'm in flight. / high off of love, drunk from my hate, / it's like i'm huffing paint and i love it, the more i suffer ( Read more... )

and it must be written, otherwise it comes out in a whoosh of air to the brain, in a gasping stutter between here and eternity - and that line, we are already tiptoeing on a daily basis, staring over the edge into the precipice of night. we wash through it like the waves that we are, or perhaps it is simply the waves washing over us: i remember i ( Read more... )

there was once a time when i was more or less possessed to write: scrawlings in notebooks, page upon page on an old school, 1993 computer (yes, it dates back that long - i wrote those words in 1997), obsessive LJ entries. but i have no more notebooks, the only computer that works is the one in my family room, dated 2009, and the only one who still ( Read more... )

...The words are all one one word the perfect
word --
My body my alcohol my pain my death are only
the perfect word as i
tell it to you, poor sweet categorizers
Listen
Every me I was and wrote
were only & all (gently)
That one perfect word.
[robert creeley]

Awash with a rollicking nostalgia, which can get strong enough that i start drinking ( Read more... )