its like when youre reading something and the musician youre listening to sings the word youre reading.
god damn.
and it feels good.
and at least time doesnt go any faster.
o man.
doesnt that feel good.
because if you didnt than they would.
and you know it really doesnt matter
and o man.
doesnt that feel good.
god damn.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
current events
politics. world weary. bailout package middle class stimulus ponzi scheme american dream. honeymoon over. the first one hundred days. comparison. seventy five years ago. depression stocks unemployment campaign wall street main protagonist number one leader charismatic. messiah status. venezuela axis equator evil oil gasoline fumes rag huff sulfur been here large dark skin look at a map. you are going to change the world. elections over three seas or however far away a country you will never see may be. congress senate state house. take a seat. a long road struggle burst bubble up ahead future hopeful doubtful photographs of the dead now allowed tasteful and unsanitized. iran rocket launch or is that a satellite. go the distance who can reach who first and what flame can be extinguished with which bucket of water. dumped. who can be rubbed out why do we fight you are helpless we are all together we want to kill everything we want to ruin the ruins. we want to build new ones.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
the bear the baby the angel the beast
a big ugly genius. no ambition. casting accusations of the sun's rays being fake. the moon is just a jewel and the stars a necklace. some sort of embrace...and coming to terms with getting a grip on time lost is time gone and time not necessarily well spent. he is a big fat man. a real big fat man. a personality minus a person. bowling ball eyes and a boomerang spine. fingerless god. his parents the last human element familiar. he spins like a rotisserie earth. eating small farm animals screaming and screeching and scratching the whole trip down the throat. bones crush like candy cigarettes. he exhales fur and feathers. exhausted. fury quieted and absolved of any and all responsibility. he moans with uncertainty. lust. fire. grinding a horn against ribs unbroken. one day i will get out of here he says.
she left her baby down by the river. she left her baby in the paws of a grizzly emaciated. she wore a beautiful dress. green and see through. the dirt never touched her bare feet. her smile was quiet beneath eyes watching. nobody was there. the river exclaimed awful absurdities. moral uppercuts and rabid judgments. oh but she knew better. she knew where she was headed. she said nothing. she walked through the woods. trees. animals unseen. some asleep and others hiding. she could hear the sky and felt the whispered hush of years never lived. good god be decent. good god do not be there. good god do not answer. good god go away. she said. finally. and she continued to walk above the dirt and under the leaves and through the sun never blinding. only a warm steady beat beneath her ribs.
she left her baby down by the river. a big ugly genius. some sort of embrace... a warm steady beat beneath her ribs. one day i will get out of here he says.
she left her baby down by the river. she left her baby in the paws of a grizzly emaciated. she wore a beautiful dress. green and see through. the dirt never touched her bare feet. her smile was quiet beneath eyes watching. nobody was there. the river exclaimed awful absurdities. moral uppercuts and rabid judgments. oh but she knew better. she knew where she was headed. she said nothing. she walked through the woods. trees. animals unseen. some asleep and others hiding. she could hear the sky and felt the whispered hush of years never lived. good god be decent. good god do not be there. good god do not answer. good god go away. she said. finally. and she continued to walk above the dirt and under the leaves and through the sun never blinding. only a warm steady beat beneath her ribs.
she left her baby down by the river. a big ugly genius. some sort of embrace... a warm steady beat beneath her ribs. one day i will get out of here he says.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
the bone architect
crossing the street you miss your mother. the wind taken out of the sails. the sails then burnt on the open water. the boat tied to the dock loose and drifting. weathered by the weather, the waves make you nauseous and smile. people stop by and take pictures. some of them sit in the boat. some stay longer than others. holes poked, cracks and scars turn into a map. the boat alone. distance. you enter a convenient store unacknowledged. a security camera rests next to a television monitor revealing what is filmed and recorded by the camera. there you are. a shady character anonymous. nobody would ever love or care about you. under a bus. a court of law. a church. a job. you think of robbing the store. taking the money from the register. tipping shit over. everything. destroying it. you turn around and head for the liquor store. wine and bottles of booze. red. red. red. price tags. happiness. white. white. whiskey. the counter and behind it. chinese owners. miserable. lottery tickets. lottery players. lottery losers. music you are unfamiliar with and dont care about is playing on some awful radio up there in the ceiling. a wavelength that you dont understand. a signal from a station somewhere right? satellites and aliens. micro-waves and tv dinners. green pork and a disappointed child. plastic forks and a failed attempt to squeeze more out of life. so just stare. your face dries out and an oasis disappears. there is more desert. sand. sand that leads to a beach. to a dock. to a boat alone. you leave the liquor store with two bottles of red and give a homeless drunk your change. something would surely be effected by that mans death you think. his life cant be completely useless. something somewhere would live or die and change somehow if he were to leave this earth. even somebodys sorrow would make his life worthwhile. if just one person cared. it would be easier. you open the door of your apartment building. mailbox. a letter for somebody else. a past tenant. you throw it on the ground and begin up the stairs. dirty bright light. nobody cares. residents of an abandoned planet. a society ruthless. in the small rooms love and hate share a bed. innocence and cynicism strangled. the family alive. you make it to your door. it opens. it melts. the light turns on. the walls and the floor boards crawl all over one another. the door closes behind you. there are wings without feathers on your shoulders. the bone architect. the evening. forever grateful. the day is not mourned. you are not alone. the bottles of wine are opened and drank. you will wake up tomorrow but not right now.
Friday, January 30, 2009
guilty and pardoned
now. a short story.
so he had a great idea. o how she loved him.
there is a man who sees a woman drop her scarf and says nothing.
there is a small corner of the world where people walk around with eyes crossed and teeth sharp like upside down church steeples.
a man ties a noose with a cord ripped from his stereo. it doesnt have one of those round and round knots like the ones in the movies. it is a simple slipknot. the only one he knows. he will hang like a duck in a chinese restaurant from a pipe in a spotless apartment.
a woman has an orgasm for the first time. she is twenty five years old.
a toe is stubbed and a god is cursed.
a man gets a promotion and a woman thinks its because he is a man.
a man looks around and then throws a piece of garbage in the street.
a wife learns to tell the truth. a couple is divorced. kids are ruined.
a man opens a beer and thanks god.
a kid cries in a doctors office and the doctor tells the nurse to make the kid be quiet. she gives him a sucker. the kid will remember her face and her breast and the uniform when he is older.
there is the sky. there are clouds in some spots and there are no clouds in some spots. it is raining. we are already dead. both heaven and hell can be found on earth. oh well. then he sighs. oh and then she screams. somebody remembers their childhood and dials a drug dealer. the two of them are kind of friends but only talk about a few different subjects. movies. getting high. how fucked up everything is.
a mother calls her family to dinner and none of them want to come out of their rooms.
a white person is killed in africa and it makes the front page of the newspaper.
for the first time in her life a woman thinks about her mother dying and is upset about all of the times they have fought. they continue to fight almost every time they see eachother.
a soldier masturbates.
a student decides to pose nude for a friend who is a photographer. they end up having sex. they never talk again.
a teacher knows she isnt doing what she set out to do.
a man loses his job and gets drunk.
a guy tells his friends about a girl he fucked and they all laugh. he feels bad about it when his friends are no longer around.
a man thinks he is a writer. a man thinks he is a failure. a man wants more. a man dies unhappy.
she eats peanut butter by the spoonful. she gets held in the evenings.
there is a pigeon. shitting. on a window. it wont be cleaned until the next rainfall. bright green liquid gathers in the gutter. people walk by and wonder what it is. they figure its from a car but theyre not sure from which part.
a classroom of children recites the pledge of allegiance and the teacher notices how beautifully the sunlight covers the desks and walls. the teacher has many regrets. the children wont remember this day.
you wish you could take apart an engine and put it back together. you worry about being late. you hurry up.
a beer bottle is tossed through the air. it smashes on the pavement. a father hears it shatter and wonders if he can protect his children. in ten years his son will be drunk and smash a beer bottle on the street outside of someones apartment. the people in that apartment will not have kids yet.
a teenager learns about abusive relationships in health class and realizes that by definition he is in one.
a baby is covered in blood and crying. the parents smile. out of breath. it is their first child. they are unprepared but feel like they will learn as they go. things turn out okay.
so he had a great idea. o how she loved him.
there is a man who sees a woman drop her scarf and says nothing.
there is a small corner of the world where people walk around with eyes crossed and teeth sharp like upside down church steeples.
a man ties a noose with a cord ripped from his stereo. it doesnt have one of those round and round knots like the ones in the movies. it is a simple slipknot. the only one he knows. he will hang like a duck in a chinese restaurant from a pipe in a spotless apartment.
a woman has an orgasm for the first time. she is twenty five years old.
a toe is stubbed and a god is cursed.
a man gets a promotion and a woman thinks its because he is a man.
a man looks around and then throws a piece of garbage in the street.
a wife learns to tell the truth. a couple is divorced. kids are ruined.
a man opens a beer and thanks god.
a kid cries in a doctors office and the doctor tells the nurse to make the kid be quiet. she gives him a sucker. the kid will remember her face and her breast and the uniform when he is older.
there is the sky. there are clouds in some spots and there are no clouds in some spots. it is raining. we are already dead. both heaven and hell can be found on earth. oh well. then he sighs. oh and then she screams. somebody remembers their childhood and dials a drug dealer. the two of them are kind of friends but only talk about a few different subjects. movies. getting high. how fucked up everything is.
a mother calls her family to dinner and none of them want to come out of their rooms.
a white person is killed in africa and it makes the front page of the newspaper.
for the first time in her life a woman thinks about her mother dying and is upset about all of the times they have fought. they continue to fight almost every time they see eachother.
a soldier masturbates.
a student decides to pose nude for a friend who is a photographer. they end up having sex. they never talk again.
a teacher knows she isnt doing what she set out to do.
a man loses his job and gets drunk.
a guy tells his friends about a girl he fucked and they all laugh. he feels bad about it when his friends are no longer around.
a man thinks he is a writer. a man thinks he is a failure. a man wants more. a man dies unhappy.
she eats peanut butter by the spoonful. she gets held in the evenings.
there is a pigeon. shitting. on a window. it wont be cleaned until the next rainfall. bright green liquid gathers in the gutter. people walk by and wonder what it is. they figure its from a car but theyre not sure from which part.
a classroom of children recites the pledge of allegiance and the teacher notices how beautifully the sunlight covers the desks and walls. the teacher has many regrets. the children wont remember this day.
you wish you could take apart an engine and put it back together. you worry about being late. you hurry up.
a beer bottle is tossed through the air. it smashes on the pavement. a father hears it shatter and wonders if he can protect his children. in ten years his son will be drunk and smash a beer bottle on the street outside of someones apartment. the people in that apartment will not have kids yet.
a teenager learns about abusive relationships in health class and realizes that by definition he is in one.
a baby is covered in blood and crying. the parents smile. out of breath. it is their first child. they are unprepared but feel like they will learn as they go. things turn out okay.
Friday, January 23, 2009
in the morning
she is the furnace
warms his house
boils his water
burns his hide
she is the basement
the attic
the childhood
the firewood
she is the blanket
warms his bones
boils his blood
burns his mind
comfort and fear here and there of losing her
skin on skin
soft royalty
dark sun
true rule
four eyes
identical
warms his house
boils his water
burns his hide
she is the basement
the attic
the childhood
the firewood
she is the blanket
warms his bones
boils his blood
burns his mind
comfort and fear here and there of losing her
skin on skin
soft royalty
dark sun
true rule
four eyes
identical
airport
then the irishman. an old tree stump sprouting new life. speech equal parts irish accent and escaped mental patient. teeth like a war veteran cemetary. brown like caramel. stained from sediments carried by the wind. sentiments of hard immigrant life. a serious face when observing what surrounds him. a face jolly when engaged in conversation. one. two. three word replies. a busted smile and eyes disappeared behind six pound eyelids. head always shaking positive up and down. from a small town youve never heard of in ireland. been in new york city for twenty two years. originally came over for vacation. went back then came back. for good. visits the small town he calls home twice a year. has a wife and two kids. works construction "on big big buildings in manhattan." (then big grin). he has a winter hat with brown and gray scarecrow hair defiant beneath. he drinks dark stout in an airport bar sat at your table. he opens a package of thick individually wrapped chocolates. he dumps them all out and opens them slowly one at a time. continues to eat them slowly one at a time. he never starts the conversation or asks a question but he was the one to sit down at your table when almost all the other tables were open. he chews on his tongue and watches the people passing by. and the planes are delayed. his flight is scheduled to leave in two hours.
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