Sunday, October 29, 2006


it's the time of year
where sunlight can effect
your posture.

as if standing up straight
got you closer
to those dying drops of day.

it's fun being hungry enough
to chase something warm with a spoon.

i remember the time
i stalked a sycamore,

slowly creeping up
until i could sneak
my hands over its eyes

waiting patiently
to yell playfully

"guess who?"

and i'm honestly not sure if i'm cut out for life,

far too much heartache
when i can't make room
to fall in love with everything.

i remember the time
i tapped atlas on the shoulder,
and gave him a break
from holding up the world.

"it's not so much the weight" he said,
taking a piss and smoking a cigarette

"but the balance is hard for beginners."

i smiled at him shrugging
and fell very fast awake.

Friday, October 27, 2006


i want to discover
the mysteries of your body

the crescent moon scar
of appendicitis, the
birthmark tucked softly
under the weight
of your left breast.

i want to visit
the places that words can't go...

and trace them so gently
with my fingertips,
you start to question

weather you're even being
touched at all.

i want to wash up
on the shores
of a sunday morning pillow
with grace.

so much so,
that i fall instantly back asleep,

knowing that you're beside me.

i remember the year
that changed the history
of my heart,

a kiss that
got me thinking
about the make up
of my lips.

they're all just
thumbtacks mapping

the places
my love has been.

i've known such beautiful women...

but can't seem to find "you" yet.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006


...i'm not sure what to say...i mean this curser is going crazy, keeping time with my heart. and i've had friends (and since i don't really have any) i'll say "friends" who have told me that i need to write prose again. but i don't know what to write. the truth that i never have...known what to write that is. i feel okay. for the first time in a long time...i feel okay. i'd love to talk about love but i just don't get it. and i'd love to talk about life but the only trouble that i'm living it. can i say "her" without everyone i've ever loved wondering if it's actually "her"? can i say "love" without speaking of how i've been living without any? i'm lost right now...and that's okay. 'cause i've stopped being afraid. and to tell you the truth...i'm sick of being found. there is a metaphorical easy chair that i'm laid up in every single night. and i talk to everything that I’ve lost...and he tells me things about his friend found. and i believe him somewhat. 'cause i won't ever be all the way here until i'm there. the most significant thing i've done in the past six months is to hold someone's hand. that's okay. because i've never been more than some kid trying to figure out what this world is all about. but just so you know...the world tells me more than that...he says, "that's good, she just grabbed it, your hand that is...that's a good thing." and that makes everything awesome until next week...where who knows..."she" might get sick of me...again. there, i said it..."again".

Thursday, October 19, 2006


then suddenly you realize
that you haven't seen the stars
in weeks, or a sunset
for even longer

and you wonder
how they could possibly
go on without you.

as if they'd cease to exist
if you chose not to notice.

we give ourselves such importance

maybe that's why tears
fall straight down
to water the ego
from the ground on up.

every other creature knows
that the world goes on without it.

that summer's buzz
turns to autumn's hum
slipping into winter's spring.

i take the time
to see such friends
and let them know
that they are beautiful.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006


'cause he's the bastard son
of eternity, and

my mind's not sure
something can last that long,

so i hate it instead...
knowing it'll end in death,
or life, or heartache.

but things can mean
the same thing so differently.

the way that
eternity is somehow longer than forever
or how the universe
is slightly smaller than the cosmos.

it's strange how love is
the very biggest of words, and
how nothing else comes in second.

so i figure this makes love special
and i like her...
she hates forever too.

because love is a song from a hillside
only audible to a field of berries.
...this is been stuck in my head for two days now...fuck! it won't get out...and i wonder if it ever will.

Well, you say that I treat you like a book on a shelf
I don't take you out that often
'Cause I know that I completed you
And that's why you are here
That's the reason you stay here
How awful that must feel
You said you'd be my dream
I could have you every night
And if by morning I'd forgotten you
Well, no big deal, that'd be all right
'Cause you're the re-occuring kind
You are the re-occuring kind
You never really leave my mind
Are you the love of my lifetime
'Cause there's been times I've had my doubts
We were just kids when I first kissed you
In the attic of my parents' house
And I wish we were there now
I took so long to figure out
What this book has been about
Now I write when I'm away
Letters that you'll never read
You said 'Go explore those other women
The geography of their bodies
But there's just one map you'll need
You're a boomerang you'll see
You will return to me
Yeah you will you will you will'
Well, if you don't think this book's all lies
If you don't think my plans would all be ruined
I'll start drinking like the way I drank before
And I just won't have a future anymore

Monday, October 16, 2006


by now i'm all done trying.

even the letters that make up the words
"i just can't take it anymore."

look shy on the page

caught someplace
like a child in a lie
head down, hands behind back,
scuffing the dirt with a shoe.

and everything was easier
when i thought you
might love me.

the workday flew by
with thoughts of a kiss, sushi still

lingered on those flavored lips,
the ones we made
jokes about biting.

but these days
time stand still
and i grow ancient
with every inhale
recollecting an exhale
of soy-sauce.

one foot out the door,
the other afraid of what came of it.

i'm told i take life
too seriously, though
i've often been scorn
for making light of things.

but these are the colors
i’m am made of
(the palette of my personality)

and you were the subject
i loved to paint...

for every tiny brushstroke
a thousand tiny heartbreaks.