In
writing on 08.20.09 at 10:47:40 PM
painting with the stars is
by far the easiest brush
to extend from the wrist
and flick the tale of
water color across the
canvas carved onto the leaves
gathered up into that pile
in the fall of youth.
raining the words down
upon the ears is by
far the easiest way to tell
someone those stories about
the twenty foot high fence
we would erect around them,
but the easiest route to
to the gate through a garden
tilled and sowed and
planted in your heartbeats.
explaining that life is just
images passing from novels
written by those that
have yet to plot a suitable ending
is really the narrator’s easy
way out, and we don’t really
like easy, do we?
In
writing on 08.09.09 at 12:14:08 PM
you tell exactly what
you want and i will make sure
it happens: now.
In
writing on 08.03.09 at 03:45:43 PM
The Dead Weather//60 Feet Tall
there is the tiniest crack of sky
that sounds like a
teal smith corona typewriter
i bought when 25 to
pound out
why love conquers every one
of your kingdoms.
the shopkeeper says we’re mad,
asking if I know how new this whole poetry business is.
Declaring that the point:
is a ribbon left
in place by sloppy semantics,
is all that is needed
to unlock exactly when I
find you.
there is the largest sliver of sun
that rambles around your
tabs and spacebars like bards.
it hits our carriage return
faster than my hand can
lay the next participle past pondering your parts.
In
writing on 08.03.09 at 11:58:22 AM
Otis Redding // I’m Coming Home To See About You
a ghost is merely just the
reflection of a two-way
mirror that covers
in a sheen, like
decisions
that have no business
leaving posies alone.
spirits? you ask,
they are just the
seduction of one-way
conversation that huddles
under the tongues
of women
left swimming in my salty sea.
clever? not truly,
when one considers that
every second left to
questions is like a
peach left lingering
on your skin after lust
subsides.
In
writing on 08.03.09 at 10:32:43 AM
i do not care why
I am going to wait here
I just know I will.
In
writing on 08.02.09 at 09:24:36 AM
every morning that
i wake up to your tongue is
one more that i want.
In
writing on 08.01.09 at 09:22:42 AM
i can wait until,
you decide it is prudent,
for us to be nude.
In
writing on 07.31.09 at 11:51:23 AM
i do not want to
be completed by you I
just like your story.
In
writing on 07.27.09 at 12:09:57 PM
wrote two less letters,
that couldn’t be more handmade,
even when pretty.
In
writing on 07.26.09 at 03:10:59 PM
there is a silence that I suspect is
mixed in with the echoes of
birds calling out in the summer
rain.
there is a line that is drawn
shining about your name like
every night not spent in
vain.
there is every moment auto
focusing on who I am
knowing that you can’t be
tame.
there is all this time that I take
for granted hoping your
everything is alright just the
same.
