The whole time seen while staring at stars
The bodies left behind as markers
For the space to occupy (inadequate survival but seemingly infinite)
All these narrow bridges threaten
When walked at night, but terrify in day
Flanked by a cold moral morass
Tossing the past away
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
Light shoulders, heavy wings:
Grief as elevation
Grief placed in the mouths of babes and bystanders
Grief visited in sterile places
Grief spoon fed for weeks
Grief taken to momentary extremes
Grief as a diving bell
A 10cm network for all you need/nothing can ever be too fresh
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
the right kind of voyeurism: watching fields between two secret lovers burn in public conversation
always scorched with the threat of renewed fertility
always racked by a chilling lonely wind that gently brushes back the hair the manifest intimacy of a crafty doppelganger: in these spaces we live in constant mortal peril of discovery by an other or a spore
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
Divisible only by degrees of filth
The hated cohabiting the trash bin, the beloved just as broken (seperate and unequal)
Tie a noose for yourself with string theory, multiple universes just mean multiple graves
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
would like to look up but fearing reflection/the horror movie scene of seeing age pour down your face in the mirror/rivers eroding what you remember of yourself/spending your last grains of sand trying to cure the concept of time
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
je n'ai pas une femme
mais je n'ai pas une cigarette
j'ai l'histoire pour le manque extraordinaire
mais je n'ai pas une cigarette
j'ai vive sans un moment placide
sans le sang de les innocents
mais je n'ai pas une cigarette
je n'ai pas une femme
et je n'ai pas une cigarette
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC
Desert air
dry and lonely, but not
without a desperation,
blows down tired throats
with kisses, which come
rushing in,
the heat of universal grasping.
It isn’t strange
given common speeches
on hearts eaten
and hearts desired,
recounted with a coldness
born of the same places
as the heat.
But it is strange
the inability to swallow the chafing devils
making sandbags out lungs.
These will not choke the fools
who walk upon them,
even as the one eyed hermit,
whose sand scorched feet
belie his travels, cackles
“Well, at least for now."
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 4:18 PM UTC
take a swig from the jug
in the dark; watch the flies move
through the bedroom
and congratulate the rest on
throwing out the things they used to wear
jokes on them, our wardrobes
were tattoos, and they aren’t skin deep
recollect a book of stamps
call it your past and burn it
there are far better things to stab with needles
than the arms of patients
being waved in distress
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Futility makes the world go round.
******************
- I can’t...
- I don’t know...
- Can I have a cigarette?
- Should I have a cigarette?
- Can I go now?
- I’m going now.
- I love you too. (until further notice)
——————————————-
Crossing the infinity line of the Daytona 500
With coherent static
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
The moon hangs half cocked
Between the condominiums
Swallowed half in shadow
It still gasps for air
With its dead lips out to space.
Went 0/4 tonight and still was a star. Sequins are the new legitimacy. Fingers, the new lies.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC