Get back to me whenever you get this, lovely
Damn, D, if only...
D is one thousand reflections with only cold, flat mirrors to touch.
One of the days I became a wrecking ball she gently placed
her hand on my shoulder
looked into my eyes and
OH she said
OH she spoke
OH she decreed
OH she screamed
OH she exclaimed
absolutely nothing not a line > - -
I became an ember
She became porcelain
This became a fun house
Where does I get tickets?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
In other news, I'm probably making it to Ireland in August. Summer has become a philosophy of flavors and sounds. May-July become this entropic momentum for August which, by necessity, is a spectacular blaringly loud romping conclusion. This August is more planned, but that doesn't mean it's detailed. I buy a ticket to and from Dublin, call these the rims of a bowl, and from there I'm the soup of the day (foot travels, pub goings, extensive readings, minestrone). Where else can I go? Possibly: DC, NJ, CIA, SC, it goes on.
This entry is being written under a single light bulb on a glowing screen in a stuffy Brooklyn room. Tomorrow I'll wake up to the sound of construction (is this city ever complete?) and a phone call form my brother. Wednesday, Friday and Sunday I work. Somewhere in there I'll cross the Atlantic and watch a Woody Allen movie. How does this soundsoundsound?
Damn, D, if only...
D is one thousand reflections with only cold, flat mirrors to touch.
One of the days I became a wrecking ball she gently placed
her hand on my shoulder
looked into my eyes and
OH she said
OH she spoke
OH she decreed
OH she screamed
OH she exclaimed
absolutely nothing not a line > - -
I became an ember
She became porcelain
This became a fun house
Where does I get tickets?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
In other news, I'm probably making it to Ireland in August. Summer has become a philosophy of flavors and sounds. May-July become this entropic momentum for August which, by necessity, is a spectacular blaringly loud romping conclusion. This August is more planned, but that doesn't mean it's detailed. I buy a ticket to and from Dublin, call these the rims of a bowl, and from there I'm the soup of the day (foot travels, pub goings, extensive readings, minestrone). Where else can I go? Possibly: DC, NJ, CIA, SC, it goes on.
This entry is being written under a single light bulb on a glowing screen in a stuffy Brooklyn room. Tomorrow I'll wake up to the sound of construction (is this city ever complete?) and a phone call form my brother. Wednesday, Friday and Sunday I work. Somewhere in there I'll cross the Atlantic and watch a Woody Allen movie. How does this soundsoundsound?