What the Faulkner?

Boulevard

2011-07-04T18:20:00.000-07:00

They fucking ran out of ice
middle summer
won't allow my dog on patio
their shitty coffee tastes
like coffee breath
you never sent me roses
but i'd work better if
these motherfuckers had
real coffee
every table talks
band practice
i silently switch
to splenda

Sky dive or "claiming (your time)"

2010-11-18T02:40:00.000-08:00

because in your parenthesis
is our weird intimacy
and its a quick show
Of your quick mind.
Sleeping like you're free falling
On your cold sheets
claiming the bed whole,
claiming your time

Unsent Post Card: Marilyn Monroe, Actor, New York, May 6, 1957 Photograph by Richard Avedon

2010-05-31T20:31:00.000-07:00

Here today i see the train station clear.
Two opposing directions.
Suspense. Ambient lights making sounds;
some subtle, some heavy and dangerous
like hot steel. Leather bags,
baggage. Crying, mothers in proper dress,
refined, small controlled train station.
We are in that air and the feeling of pain
is fast and high-pitched. Like the oncoming
train created it. We board separate.
There will be post cards.
It's fading light that makes us
think we're movie stars.
The thing is, you are. Only to me.
I'm not bitter or biting nails,
i've just wasted time and paper.
In the best dress i can afford, and you look on,
always. Not much is going on inside your heart.
I can hear the final second now.
The boarding call, you first.
I can hear it coming now. I want to mourn it, now.
It's two thousand ten in my bedroom
and i won't get on your train to wherever.
Unfinished...Love,

measure and figure

2010-03-12T20:42:00.001-08:00

giving with eyes closed
your hands open
free mouth
mind off the clock
sturdy record
warming a context
down over us
sometimes that
is just a half hug
an instinct
a moment of quiet
it crushes the problem
of categories

Permanent Fire Escape

2010-03-12T20:38:00.000-08:00

remembering our code
is hard here
at our door
you're sitting inside
craving actual fantasy
permanent fire escape,
bolted gut tingles at any
turn
i'm hungry and running in place
of thinking
you will wait
that's your strength
i know there's only three
things we speak to
each other
over and over
all other communications
are revision, interpretation,
plagiarism
and i'm busting it,
tonight
i used to think if i stopped explaining,
i'd die
i used to think we could sit down
at the distant cafe
and say "everything's your fault"
hand myself over
like i was salt
making your whole meal better
you don't have to tell me
how selfish i am
when i wrote this
after thinking of you
all day

Freeway

2010-03-12T19:09:00.000-08:00

on the freeway asking you
what gear i'm in
one time
i put our times together
to forget like with alchemy
space between me and
the bedroom wall
where i knew
there was two feet
born between us
forever
for what we already lost
i can't wake an insomniac up
once they finally fall
asleep
if you can't feel it
no sense shaking you
that space fills the world
in the room
then the world

Los Angeles

2009-12-17T11:30:00.000-08:00

in a garage
listening to paper blank threats
the dryer working my jeans
moving random testaments
tumble damp fabric
the dirt wasn't all worked out
but it will hold itself
under a color with its
charming pattern tonight
appear mended, tonight
i'm not here looking for stars
everything is like another thing: in words
here i'm thinking about folding more
than unfolding. as perfect as i'll be
sitting at the
quest desk allows my smoke try:
unreachable latitudes
stared down the road at them
as our parallel lines i couldn't help quoting
embark on a venture to a ghostlier town
where we may
be clean, atone hours spent
making faulty copies of a skeleton key

park the car

2009-12-12T13:37:00.000-08:00

park the car and let me have time
with the windows
have them insides out to look into
a world seeing just my head
while you are seeing too much of my skin
becomes carcass to your touch
because i'm pondering an impossible
chance to
sell something that is free
to a different soul
he walks away
he cut both my wrists but i have three
i stay and redefine everything,
save the dish with spice, salt, sugar,
or cream

Tribute to Dean Young

2009-11-25T10:47:00.000-08:00

Ok, I quit my fantasy. really,
by comparison, it wasn't a terrible type make-believe:
folk songs on the bus, melted glance, a suicide.
It's the bus rides i miss the most, how i believed
i could wake unwounded yet late next to you
and instantly be called out of it,
breathing fine, never losing my forged doctor's note,
never loosening your decorum for my family
not getting crazy ideas from rap music to install
shiny expensive pieces on my teeth, not turned away
at psych services for not being violent enough
not leaving something, but needing it back
by candlelight, a slight orchestra and epileptic seizure
not just winning my self-respect rightly
just flossing, just riding the bus to you, arriving
just like what happens in love.
Eventually we see that our friends are killing themselves
while parents are dying involuntarily, and you are looking
you see that there is pragmatism in fantasy,
but it's impossible to discern through the melody
so i stopped yelling for the unique to find me unique,
and i watched the sex in the city movie with my ex,
like a normal woman. i was relieved and tired
i laughed in unison, still out of sync ,
it was there i remembered my father had advice,
only loving one woman, hurting dozens
covered in paint and nicorette breath between beats.
easier to rhyme than state
ordinary modes of communications failed after work hours.
landlord, rent's late, but she was misspelling
an email, endearingly. Send it when you have it,
fuck yourself in the room i own, after.
again, It was a better text better left unsent,
no nuance. I tried to make her understand after much
heartache, stylistic insomnia,but she remained
mostly intact, unworried about cash, winked at.
her kittens printed on kleenex boxes,
in her back seat moved,
i kissed an engaged marijuana entrepreneur.
landed on my dad's lawn like spacecraft, forgetting his "n word"
needing directions, my name again.

Know In The Dark (yes...to be edited again)

2009-11-24T15:11:00.000-08:00

we've been fighting
between all the good times
makes it feel like we've been
friends for all of the 90's

i never quite prayed
or arrived toting faith
but there were moments god watched
me roll into the street
more or less around your way

i never finished college
messed up my deal with the public library
dropped my end of the bargain there, with ease,
now i only want to know
the agony of fighting
a fight worth
fighting for!

permanently post meridian,
i head toward your place
and when i arrive? well. back up. it's hard to call it..
slowly a chandelier rocks but there is no chandelier
just the ice in your glass
a light brown drink
making you glow
we aren't exactly in a hospital comforting each other
by making distraction
we aren't exactly two people in an apartment
i knew or would ever know in the dark

sugar
there's sweetness in
your sirens
i cross many street lights
all seem to say
you're anywhere
flying into someone's soul

when i won't budge
and you won't sway
there's no ending
to pick
just a final shot to take
some girls don't weigh anything
just move on impulsive and cry
lord, did i ever
bring you on.
by the time my friend developed
the photos,
i had changed history.

Get Over Me

2009-11-24T15:06:00.000-08:00

he said
"you don't want me to get over you."
when i said no what i meant was more a-
blow the candle out
it's been daylight from the first

all wait
for you
until i gave in
broken glass fast
we saw it coming from the mirror
i lived in
softer glances were from you
tied to expectation

treated you like clay
craved sleep observation
a dream scientist
get paid nights

both incomplete we drove
the city out
of house and home
afraid to say "don't touch there..no..
not my face..i'm alone again and
i want to fight."

safe future and past,
i'm obviously cold now
all the times i wasn't over there
i was alone hurting you
we were sick, sore losers

the car is parked
you get in and drive away
more like i'm there
than when i'm there

Thousand Island

2009-11-24T14:36:00.000-08:00

all the way lets go all the way
off the shore
collect my things
tooth gear, travel size anger
matches and a matchless man
i'm still wooing on the mainland
get the nets get the cutlery
the moon takes care of herself
just like a promise.
the end of carrie-the movie
was inching up
i had to make a break for it
sorry i stole your apology
by pissing you off before it came out
let's unpack your past
to date the poem without naming the number
all roads lead to the sea shore
all reads involve me
with you in a weird relationship
put my foot down before the other flip flop drops
flips off your x getting sunblock at a supermarket
no, do not bring the rocking chair

I Want To

2009-10-10T18:52:00.000-07:00

i want to dip my pen deep into the ink of night.
i want to blacken the day
to never give up.

this could be chosen.
this could be a final morning.
was it choice that tricked me?
dressed in duty, will, or faith-

god must take what is not love
and make it opaque.

playing dead again
to get up and hunt
before i know my blankets
half fallen away,
are there as my curtain
reveals a light of day
i'm certain.

Three Lovers

2009-10-08T23:15:00.000-07:00

in slightly different words,
give me room.
it's another night for somebody
who misses my lies and back to him in bed.

another person gets out of a car,
crying
red light.
been her, check.

all day i haven't seen my hands.
at work.
we no longer make
eye contact,
once we slept like parenthesis
that aren't holding a word
(nothing)
i was standing in the trusting air.
how it went away.
quickly as it came on.
we become willing to forget.
a thousand times.
a thousand dinners,
messy plates.

there's a taste in my mouth,
the violent one says,
his gut goes, alive
in misunderstanding.
i like to follow and wait for things
dropping.

the words align themselves
don't allow mistakes.
you must have loved her,
to deal with a vocabulary
that takes up a whole persona like that.
did you have to buy an extra movie ticket?

Meaningless unto the meaningful
Drag, drugged, asked, declined, reclined
to where i'm not so sure.
I'm never quiet anymore.
Never quite there, either.
Whither, whether, weather.
None more deserving than the other.
why compare?
Uncertain, i just promise to:
Never shut up.
Planets spinning, good.
There's a start, there's something else.
To go on.

Advice

2009-09-26T01:03:00.000-07:00

how do you measure
pain?
there are different silences
to know oneself to.
we must
wait.

what did she tell me for advice?
the same lines she needs tomorrow morning?

it's is a set up
only i see.
only i living is not luxury.
dated gold, art,ink, perfume and mirrors,
no one comes to have to build a
"nice vanity" on a winning streak
does it count?

if a tree falls in the forest
bury me easy
for the first morning jogger to find
my hacked arm jutting through mud

hurt low
mumbled, unchallenged ellipses
you know him, we all do, say "Hey, Nero again."
hurt epileptic which is brief
forgotten thrashing by the inflicted
trauma for frontal lobe
and the family standing above-
you know my family--they're yours to take beyond
comment
hurt from comment.
hurt unrecognizable as a corpse except by cool tattoo
kids pretending to be sad while thinking only of their own youth
hurt of a parent who said never do that
then did it and eventually stopped saying don't
how do you measure
pain?

do you hear answers at night or in the day?
sounds are signs
nearby housing project burns quiet
as upper pacific heights receives s noise complaint
one more
barking dog also
beyond comment
three more
flushed water through pipes
oak street eastern traffic 12:19
mornings
a facsimile at an office where i stood
similar to an employee
fourthly,
sound conspired memory
childhood gate in white where i met my mom
drunk on wine
a premier

who will answer now
to catch my hand slipping?
say "ok brooke...here's the thing that works..here's error"
how long were we wandering
the downtown plaza looking for escape?
what do we need to buy to validate parking?
locals only jokes reveal the world for us.
why does it come from come from, and where?

concluded we're no longer youngest at the bar,
ID's years valid
years made us
both too credited and credible
to seek celebrities
among car wrecks involving limousines
we could get dragged down, or crash too inward

don't stop the little voice there
she knows
alright
don't stop the big one that screams "okay..
shit's just sometimes better tomorrow morning, sit tight"

the impulse set to survive
creativity misunderstood
stood in the wrong line for hours
i gave up and got a hot dog from outside
she stayed and waited for dinner to eat
she got her driver license renewed
drove to take
me to get into the right line some month later
i picked up the phone during her nap
said
stay serious. stay with me. i just made more things up.
i'll make it up to you.

"hipsters only list you when they're playin'"

2009-09-15T14:43:00.001-07:00

caught me by surprise
the way it feels to round a corner
and get wind knocked out
to stand on tippy toes
and see what you wanted to never see
the whole mess is
big dead center of room

today technology has made new spelling
it is not what i'm excited for
when i left the ball in your court
i didn't know you'd make a home for it there
nowadays it's like they just want my idioms
then park with someone else

Favorite

2009-09-15T14:28:00.000-07:00

wanted to offer radiant comfort
lost track of who you were.
wanted to say what
i used to imply
you don't have to ignore me anymore.
if you are playing chess
with several
to keep your tete from noose
them i'm correct out of the way.
i met you late nights
living on couches working in aprons.
of course you were my favorite.

Desperation

2009-09-15T14:26:00.001-07:00

Let's go stray
slum and disarrange
find heat and score
where bricks are
clean in bright
night alley walks
bet i'm not
the first skin
you've lived under
understanding you now-
i think of you less-
the good in me is
off limits to you
before there was love
there was desperation
bad, love, we
needed it badly

Mask

2009-09-15T14:13:00.000-07:00

the more i pull and
pull at darkness the more she bores.

she was right
we'd laugh ourselves
into the grave.

it's an inoppurtune time
to invest in an imaginary friend.
when they remind me of a band or abandonment,
it's also downright tacky.

remember my mask
of not giving two shits?
i have to give it back.
but was it working on you?

Fourth of July

2009-09-15T14:08:00.000-07:00

fireworks from the bridge in transit
best friend in the back seat.
some other people's love has spilled over,
at this point, into our banter.
we won't crash or complain.
no one is struck incurable or sarcastic.
all of us three
can make trouble wherever we go, you see,
but we are now more careful.
simple old humans with young tastes
slow to see colors from explosions.

7/5/09

2009-09-15T13:51:00.000-07:00

in the car my boy and i drive nights
with the windows down he feels
for my mood with breath rhythms
hand poses and my shit talk

outward hands to the wheel
familiar route over tracks
a major juncture near a church and a market
someone drinks all day near the taco place
waiting for a bus or an idea to pass or never pass

two hands coasting foot to yield to pedestrians
yield to our forgiveness when the storm comes
sweeps away what the others said
and it's just you and me
unnavigable
industry of mood sorting and where to sleep

Photograph Me

2009-09-12T22:33:00.000-07:00

this is not to say i know anything.
what i do know is that there are two dogs here.
one to my right and one to my left.
all of us are sitting.
they are white against my
black mood.
then my book.

try to get it open,
give me more time,
i can't handle the words.

i'm afraid to grow up
more than this:

i spend my time
trying not to think.
i go with girls
to smoke cigarettes.
just to clean my hair,
i have to call a guru.

when i was mine.
all i ever wanted to do
was homework.
homer, african history, french past tense
maybe a collage or poem after that.

my fashions were from the big city.
with my scrapes
i understood
every answer
font for penmanship
talk with others to learn
to out test them.

now
i'm nervous and my soul goes up
and down.
colors clown me.
some days
my reflection is dotted
claustrophobic.

photograph me because i don't feel a part of.
photograph me because i can't see
how i'm still life.

i'd like a photo of the night i witnessed
a stranger
who had the kind of love
that would not allow her to break
her own heart.
take my photograph:
when i drove the man from another country
to the emergency room.
we were fine without even music.

Dream

2009-09-12T22:16:00.000-07:00

the dream revealed me as a small figure
walking down walkways held gently by the waist
to places where people were impressed
by postures, poses, and titles
what will you do next i asked him-
i'm going to drink some tea-
around us were three dogs of certain pedigree breed
the whole scene was dressed in taupe, navy, tan
there was a woman who used to have better hair
a more reliable smile
she didn't look as good-
the years had changed her
i had counted on the leaves
to crowd our walk out
had just dined and dashed at a chinese restaurant
i can place all of these places
the colors take time

2009-07-01T22:55:00.000-07:00

Efficacy

2009-07-01T20:47:00.000-07:00

O what gave
me the marrow
to tell
your story to you?
the white flag was red
it took how i misinterpret courage
to keep up

we won't marry
or hush children
woo common acquaintances to lunch forever
so, i beg softness
rush me into anti
depression, driving a car well
feel the breaks are there
beware the gas
driving, well, to bring you another gift

did i ever give a second thought?
yes to red ribbons
sales girl hated human experience
wrapping paper
inscrutable gestures
as if she could tell you-
alumni of my intensity-
take this trinket for trickery

"Sharon, this is not a radio station"

2009-07-01T20:46:00.000-07:00

do not multi-task
on the freeway
share a favorite jewish criminologist with your lover
since the advent of dna
have more discussions with mother
repeatedly killing
stops being compelling
some dialing is sinning
strings that aren't pulled can exist still untangled
don't use them even though they're ready
don't let neon fool you--it speaks in pity
drink up on ice for us
a whole city guesses you in a gossip dark costume
lost actors feel for their lines like braille hands
it's like you're the only one working for a living
do not dig a way out
writing to catch me stealing
so what if the same thing happens
in your living room and in mine
a love poem happened in an ambush
no one taped or TEVOd
talk about dna
thin lines are getting old to talk about
a phone rings
no one answers
the dog outside digs and digs at dry dirt
i yell "no this isn't about you" to an empty feeling
yet not empty room

sounds famous

2009-03-03T08:11:00.000-08:00

somewhere
someone is as ready as
real time.

all words we cast
then recast as nets,
or movies.
little ones,
spectacles.

walk out, walk out.
its your soliloquy.

one last favor after
the first fourteen,
take your soul section
out of my mouth.

For the One Hoping to be Mentioned and Not Mentioned

2009-02-12T22:05:00.000-08:00

I guess you’ll need a pen
When you’re wondering around in the dark.
Be careful to not move too fast.
Never speak directly from your heart,
Unless it’s summer, of course,
And there’s swimming involved.
Never tell the girl crying to cheer up.
Always hold your head up, unless
You are avoiding someone.
in that case, Read the paper while you’re at it.
Only change lovers, like lanes in traffic,
With certainty.
Check your blind spot without crashing.
And if directives alone aren’t remarkable
Enough, read for hours on end with those
Bookmarks with all the strings hanging from
Them. Seek out the underrated fringe located
Almost everywhere. But if seeking
Brought you to read this in the first place,
Please ask yourself the real reason
You can’t stand your own daydreams any more.
Why are you leaning into mine? Pay for a massage.
There are really two kinds, depending on your problem.
But if an ending could never be happy,
Go begin a drink and leave it on the bar,
And if you can’t do that, you’re probably alcoholic.
Then you have at least twelve things to occupy your time with,
Plus new friends. Still unsatisfied with this poem,
Look at your face in the mirror and unless it’s black and blue,
There’s hope in a job interview.

Losing

2009-02-12T22:00:00.001-08:00

when the air
is hot and still and you
see yourself
among many faces
do you want to claim another?

each year becomes another
It will happen
to you, too.

you ignored my recommend
the best years of your life,
sit straight ahead
largely because of geography,
where i am now.

when I left town
signs on the road
felt like permission
to return.

compass needle spun
all kinds of
out of control
haay is all you could write

Time

2009-02-12T21:56:00.000-08:00

Time presses on
You think you can measure it
Paint peeling
Proximity to ocean houses
Grey blue square
Subtle- the word
becomes natural
To spell and pronounce
age is closer to a feeling by night
do you like living by the sea, he said
The waves are
Startlingly- I stumbled
Beautiful and I can’t take it seriously
I look away
The pizza came and went
In different ways

Elipses

2009-01-30T01:01:00.000-08:00

laugh until i have the spins without drinking
doctor and i are boating, nearly
i'm seasick in the office
bolted to useless resumes in my pocket

"i find talking oppressive", i say on the bay bridge
by that i meant shut up
my window holds the sea
my curtain is closed but by night
its a rare asset

letter

2009-01-21T00:30:00.000-08:00

"would it turn your stomach to watch the new movie
over here
with me..."
"out of some other motherfucker's path..."
"reflecting to me..."
these are quotes from a call i'm on,
pretending to listen to, which is like a song.

on the next couch, someone sings, "tears of joy and pain",

i am affected by this persuasion.
slowness of it at night.
the last thing i wrote to you
was perfect
the last words you said were
perfect.
trust me.
you fought well on the phone.

on a late-night level, i'll miss being a hell hound on your trail.
on a daytime level, i gotta be serving my landlord.

we will be tougher than we ever planned.

the nameless

2009-01-17T23:37:00.000-08:00

no yearning
no one should wait for anything except federal money
near figure on the bus
my heart fell out at the last stop
when i got the news

sit still beside
see me not finding a bit a glamor
in a nice tuesday night
roll away, driver
move me, woo me

too old to swear off
force humor to stare through sadness

reside in a blanket
motion sensitive
a lawn light
missing and knowing
next to no one
being with him

The Well

2009-01-12T02:31:00.001-08:00

self esteem Olympics, or
Internet profiles and networking

i want to talk and I want to listen
No one is anywhere
Not like when we had common cocaine
contrasting schedules with landlords

brain softens to fit the owl section of the passing L train
Near, outside the window, near the exit of this night
A day is beginning

that unknown and unknowlable noun

Like god and then god makes himself glow in the dark and it’s daylight

A boy is tying up simple shoes somewhere
assuming strength from normal places

Conversation

2008-12-11T20:03:00.001-08:00

I have lived a long time, seemingly in one dilating conversation wherein various persons participate, but i am merely trying to explain myself as accurately as possible. Sometimes I am asking, how can i carry my potential so it is not bothering your routine?
Friends & others, I want to ask, fuckyouingly, how do I abide chronic misunderstanding?

New President…november 4th 2008

2008-12-11T19:59:00.000-08:00

I couldn’t wipe the smile off
Climbing the steep hills
to a temporary apartment
thirty dollars in my wallet

I got off the bus in America
stunned cars.
the lights in the street
kind of green
colliding
with rain cold

a black president
swagger,
the shock,
smiled
Since first love.

unstoppable unpredictable
naive
patriot again.

What the celebratory bus did to me
I am interested in being

34th Street

2008-12-11T19:57:00.000-08:00

Here’s the story
delicate as upset
aside
After many years trying to get away
Of firsts
I am all alone with you
remember
it won’t be casual
all up to the night when:
We sit in the car
just outside my house
The engine turned off
to accommodate my talking mouth
There won’t be any consequences
We won’t pay
themes I can handle
two and a half at a time
strengthen
without permission
Do not tell me you are on your way
on the bridge
to be ready
Do not let me know
you got home
did not crash
I said goodnight and walked inside
Years ago

Hometown Kills

2008-12-05T15:54:00.000-08:00

perspective come like a doctor to this country mile from
my cold wordless city

the mailman is in love with me
won't deliver my love letters
because i'm a tortured prisoner and i won't name his
name
facts seem decorative

ephemeral suburban atmosphere
occurring to protect my faltering dedication to money
division of thought from feeling

the heart skipping the naked skin
the rapid mind
more than an elsewhere pulse

sometimes my hometown kills
but it's cheaper than a whore
on her way back home for christmas

Winter Opus

2008-12-05T15:49:00.000-08:00

i'm aflame
silent and away
but it is not the miles nor the neat
rows of traffic
he is the quiet distance
i am the unattainable almost itself
none can deny golden fall the
flight of leaves of leaving being left
when i close my eyes i see stars
i could never control i see the unpredictable
that makes this not a suicide i have tonight
and imagination is nothing pretty
if not remembered forgery careful
to not scatter or lose her scars

Fire Escape

2008-12-03T15:01:00.000-08:00

A Fire escape cigarette
chasing words
down an alley with a knife
Calling you.
Tarred and tethered
Seven minutes later, 8:08
keys are ringing in my head.
All permanence exits
in the heartbreak of the obvious
one uniting theme:
A lonely person
and a lonelier person
weakened of late, up late
urban questions of ethics persist
amongst the cleverly terrified
elegantly injured cast
Tension builds
Collapses
wears out her welcome.
Nausea broke me
from a wall-facing trance of
uncertain sleep
another tiny death this week
slap and tease the fray
Opine to draw in, pine to draw in
demand to be drawn opaque
i retreat to sketch instead
Curl into your blankets and remain still.
in an American movie someone would say
“Damnit, darling. .This is supposed to be fun”
But spell check keeps telling me damnit
isn’t allowed
taking
the filthy things I’d say into your
Breath and clean sheets
all bridges burn in the nighttime
this film ends with the ceiling spinning
dear producer of films and dear fixed stars,
the saint of finding lost magnets,
if “Like” is the ever unsolved yet tried blue
and a heart is a tiny window banged by the elements
that rain and wind finally closes
then I’m a song
left on a winking answering machine
hurl me towards him, or just drop me off
Let us sit our vocabularies down by the fire

Silence

2008-12-03T14:16:00.000-08:00

All my silence message
slamming crisper drawer
making my lunch
and
restraint
a dead giveaway

everywhere
a handbook to discern, handle, highlight,
guitars, modems, refrigerator, cars passing, the heater
the lights of the yard
say “hey” through a yawn

i’m sure that i'm great in bed
a fire within a filibuster
people would
trade in sleep for that.
there's that kind of not sleeping

the lethal predictable, edited

2008-11-10T14:11:00.000-08:00

You can’t trick yourself you’ve practiced too long
decorated yourself
in the space between
what you have and what you want
wear that distance for miles on your face
light falls in from a lamppost
and honey, it’s heavy
A suffering observed from keyhole and telescope
lack/sheets/slack
The lethal predictable
paying dues you never questioned

Call The Police Brooke Is Fighting With God In South Sac

2008-11-10T14:10:00.000-08:00

Weather of god’s invisibility
this is where I’m from
I have sixty dollars and all night
To tell you

In my hometown a tourist
The rain fell a tiny session
My dad took me to Walgreens and introduced me to the checker
as his San Francisco daughter
bought nicotine chews and two packs of smokes

I’ll be waiting tables to save money
Living in a downstairs room with a piano,
Cell phone style silent, yet a noisy
washing machine
Sadness comes in and out,
The turtleneck sweater,
again!?

I know I’ll be always cold
In summer
without my friend i knew
one day would go-and eventually did-but not all at once
even after i stop blaming myself

A cat makes his big orange way onto my bed stranger
sounding like a two year old human
I don’t know his name
Big, orange, strange human child cat, maybe

Relapse?

2008-11-10T14:07:00.000-08:00

Tonight I pretend that I’m a new brooke

Sounds like cancer, this selfish desire
Cancer is not funny. It’s emotional.
I won’t have any of it.
No emotionals over to the pad
I’m here to back up the guy about to get 86’d
Where’s the crack and erotic three minute transformation?
Where I’ll end up?
Who cares when cigarettes taste like THIS?

when swans show or fallen fry or 1997

2008-10-24T23:04:00.000-07:00

never noticed where i was going to sit
until white pants
broken hearts are teachers
never look at sidewalk the same again
they keep saying we shouldn't litter
we should lower fructose
save the whales, kids from drugs,
christmas bows for next year
discard nouns and adverbs that keep us heavy
people reading the paper every day
feel like interviewing them for predictions
the word swan keeps showing up
three times a week
the color pink, what it's doing here!
my hair looks nice today
yours usually does but we never talk about hair
that's why i call at three am
last time mother called on speed-
she was reading a book called
i'm ok you're ok so why doesn't it feel ok-
to tell me she found a poem i'd written and
stuffed in between the pages in 1997
i wrote it sitting in the car during her eye surgery
been sitting in cars forever waiting
don't want to get out
it gets so quiet in a parking lot
potential, brakes, plastic devices, maps, loose change,
a curly fry between the fallen seat belt
and the removable, vacuumable rug
windows open and close
cars get a bad rap these days, oil pollution
i'd like to keep defending them
on the sly
the first time i saw a hair scruncee wrapped around
a stick shift in the 1980's
i knew i was heterosexual
used to dream of being 23
used to be the same person i am now
here in union square
the security informs a black voice on a white man
smoking isn't allowed
he responds
"i come from the moon, i'm treated like an alien"
the person i'm meeting hurries from a bus stop
she loves me
how did we get here, willis?
every night we sleep wouldn't find us.
every night led to this

2008-10-24T22:50:00.000-07:00

weren't you always absconding
with the prequel i needed
to sleep better
solve the trivia itch of three:thirty five am
u were never returning
volume I to the library on time
and i'm still in the middle of a trilogy i've been reading for ten years
sure i'll read the last work
deductive reasoning and imagination
will be friend to me when you have the first book
somewhere, sentences are missing
i feel them when i almost, never mind
ghost nemesis chokes on the muck i've ravaged
forgiven
years now
weren't you the whore also
who consumed the last tee shirt of my size
just seconds before i entered the shop
the wind slamming the door closed
tight behind me
i swear i'll meet you
at dinner in tahoe
at somebody's aunt's thanksgiving week
timeshare
you'll have lost more money
than cocaine could repair
i'll slice a pea in half for you
tell you what you're missing in a gaze
probably a drink will spill
reaction times are slower in snow
eventually we'll unravel the theft
don't think this isn't specific
don't think god's not out back
hiding evidence in the woods and watching the puppy
don't think i wasn't secretly born a twin
and i won't find you
to get all those missing socks back

new age style letter to myself addressing insomnia

2008-08-03T01:53:00.000-07:00

there is nothing to be afraid of
if the worst thing happened
i would just cry until all was very quiet
then go out and solve problems
these are facts when you decide to live on earth
come down from wherever you lived when you lied even about spacing out
the thing is, what i really mean,
i can't sleep at night because of my daydreams
you have to decide also living here that the person to your right
who answers the phone at any hour condemns you for suffering
that the person to your left who can text message back in your crisis
does not understand your crisis
that the person you walked away from is back there for a reason
for there comes a night, here it is,
when you lay down and find yourself in bed and it seems
equally fine
to sleep
or to try to sleep
nothing is going to be sudden
nothing is ever rushed
the body you are lying in will bring you safely to clothes that fit in the morning
and you will be comfortable enough to try the impossible challenge
of being a human
i wish someone would have told me this when i was young and i couldn't sleep
now i have to write this to myself...i'm giving up maintaining pains of trying to find peace..thinking, if only i am in the right bed, or have a great night to fall asleep thinking about.
i won't forget that anxiety is temporary. life is, too. and though we cannot live forever, if we do right in the time that is allowed us, everything will work out just fine. there is a god. he's not a shitty human writer of our fiction.

3

2008-07-02T17:54:00.000-07:00

When I see a painting
hanging huge
in an expensive hotel
framed in gold whispering
with a girl’s excited whisper-laugh
(Which is as loud or louder
As just talking)
Or downtown a man
shining door embellishments
or any sudden burst
of mercy by way of contrast
I remember
your face
your face
and your face
again
and
less about love
less about honesty
less about weather
but more about
the trouble with frames,
beauty, gravity:
the human mind again

2

2008-07-02T17:28:00.000-07:00

With feet and arms older than last year
I started window washing, mopping,
serving espresso in a hotel
calling spades not spades
to keep friends
work sick or smiling without prediction
songs sound overhead while I’m
washing down a counter covered in sugar
the cream it is sticking
my rag is too wet it’s leaving water marks
I will go over all again with napkins
Fast--feel bad about wasting the napkins--
all factors will collide but drift like
feathers in a graveyard
I push dangling hair this second from my eyes:
you are playing a guitar somewhere
sitting somewhere
showering at night somewhere
I have a wet rag to return to a respective red bucket
wrung out well

Letter From 10-31 2006

2008-06-15T20:44:00.000-07:00

dear you know who you are-
call yourself and leave a message, write another book, know throreau had no thoreau
to read, stop conversing with fashion assholes, forget about what you didn't say,
tell them without aplogizing, find a couple of brothers to hang out with,
hang up a fourth place award ribbon, go take some terrible art pictures until you
see that you are the art yourself. remember i loved you.
like all good things, i'll be comin if you can wait. i'll explain why i hung up
on you later. waiting forever on a rope swing- life is either that or it is not.
i'd wait. on a porch. though garden gnomes get snowed over in winter and
rain my lay waste the chalk art on summer pavement. demonstrations in mathematics,
my punctuality. this isn't a mistake. change is near, assembling a fresh courage.
can i impress you by quoting marshall mcluhan? can you let me try? i'm smoking
where people don't smoke. in your room as you are occupied. you have become loud
when you are quiet and quiet when you are loud. so quiet when you try to be loud.
i am trying to hear us.
from, me

as for myself, i am always forgetting
what it was i wasn't going to write about
what i wasn't going to say again
-catherine hunter

Saturday and Saturday

2008-06-15T20:21:00.001-07:00

the difference between Saturday and
Saturday with work on it’s heels
Relief-
I don’t worry about fun
Talking dirty
Taking me for a spin
Leaving me home without waiting to see if
I got in okay
Fun has no manners
And I just did a sink full of dishes and furiously type
To the rhythm
Of running water or out of insights
While I scratch my whole bodily experience
Eschewing ants
The anti-lonely patrol
Eschewing them like phone calls
He pointed out the wrong lyric, in my life
But I will depreciate mine later
Girls always like the ones about vulnerability
Guys like the ones about death being funny
I’d like to make two armies
take my chance again

Ant Spray Of Just Now

2008-06-15T20:20:00.000-07:00

Ant spray of just now
Has a hold on me
One hard day
Climb the stairs to my room
See a mustang in the street filled with silent
Young Americans
Keep walking up
Mascara from yesteryear
and last night
Ensnared my eyes
Are birthday parties worth
the
dishes
Balloon shreds
What I see is a sit after death or something like
Grandma calling a day late and me saying
Sometimes
Staying in touch makes us sadder
As If I were explaining a broken ice machine to a hotel guest
She took the modern bait
Then I worked for minimum wage
a tax payer with no dependents
She thinks she failed as a grandmother
I infer, for I will not go to mormon heaven
she read me a book a hundred times, detangled my hair
where mickey mouse meets a giant and triumphs
and I am fit to go to school on monday

In The Sun

2008-06-05T12:14:00.000-07:00

I am in the sun waiting
In the same shirt waiting
As last year, as ever, waiting
I remember wasting this time
Under other seasons, other contracts
A typist and thief

There was a way that people’s eyes shone
Commuting home for some salad
Some chopped small solitude difficult to hold
Cracking open all over the sidewalk you think of
The same stories that make me cry
And you won’t move
You have just disappeared

Born missing
Call it a twin
A thing to be sad
Aligned by night with day
By day aligned with bed
I tried to put my hands in places they
Would never fit
Smeared nail polish in boxing gloves
That is my story
I tried to tell the tennis coach my mom was on acid
Tried to tell the doctor what to say
which floor to land on,
Wait, not just yet, as if
I had a dream I was this way forever and then woke up

Tuesday Morning

2008-05-27T12:35:00.000-07:00

without precision
cornered grace
urinating
senseless
smoking
trail to bed in the morning
such sweat pants
on legs
abide impending thirst
let me unbind my wrists and ankles
i want to stop lying with my teeth
i always wake up down

monodist

2008-05-22T14:44:00.000-07:00

writer, writer
you are numb then recharged
i should be above noticing everything
this is the nineteenth attempt to be useful
unladylike laughter
the revenge
classing up my room
ignorant of sounds, humankind
we don't know if calls of the gibbon should be considered productive
we can expect little from telephones
modern little else
from estrangement vocable

five part almost

2008-05-16T14:42:00.001-07:00

part 1:
circular driveway street naming
Speciation book mess of desk
those jeans on your body
thick on thin they wear and stick
substitutes for a more bleeding symbol
Some real choice to make
with knuckles cracked
Let me avoid
what the truth could bring
to an escapade plan
more time to think over
being creepy
How can I know when to call in sick
just sick of you, nerd

part 2:
unfavorable grass
surprise from home depot
unstoppable power i can't pull you out
from my past
only spell correctly
for you to kindly turn away
facile toward the neighbors home
nothing is secret
everyone is safe

part 3:
I slipped my body under your balancing arm
Holding the world together on your phone
took it well
Our scattered audience looked for lost luggage
Let’s pretend you said
to be a couple holding hands
I will be apathetic
The weather had me up
atop a cake ready to burn
Young friend I was sewn to the suburbs long ago
irreconcilable seasons return
nag their whines
avarice thickening fire weather
reminds me of how rice is made
how
I’d love you to experience
Everything I have

part 4:
I can’t get brown hair out of my mind
It’s plain to me the way common ground does nothing
so let's jettison values, here you come
it's Me, brooke, from California by way of you giggling
Strings hanging off of your loose shorts
Low on your sharp hip lines
Do not remember a single dead person
Do not regret one whiskey commission
Tapered so tapering
What you take or leave
Your suit is one of slim potential
falling raft in a paint by number sea

part 5:
sprawled out on a beach in horror
so silly are words falling from your mouth
me liking you makes me like those men
who follow risque anime
let me explain this repeatedly too

insomnia sad

2008-05-16T03:42:00.000-07:00

we could deliberate in separate spaces
with airs mosquito bitten thick with unfinished thoughts
how the fable found the analogy
how the print met it's merit in currency
what came first is always the first question
a heat wave brings lack of sleep
stirring of irreconcilables
out of proper drawers and corners crawl unacceptable forms of me
knuckles cannot crack to comfort this
i want to change
or change views
trade sufferings
in the heat of the day i am not here to match wits
i want a hug for instance
by night i take my four walls wholly dissatisfied
i want to peel paint with the resolutions forming between sleep and i
a chemical display,
construction
because there is no music
most importantly, there is no music

?

2008-05-06T15:10:00.000-07:00

i called you names the french call french assholes
do not ask me what i have learned
i am back from my trip
packing again
that is what i learned

birdlike a similie

2008-05-04T22:16:00.000-07:00

do you ever want to ask a real question
all
the
way
from where you are most quiet
like saying it
down a well
or to a sister orphan on a cot
the moon to witness
she is guileless and sick
believes in god too much to lie
do you ever want the kind of truth
embarrassed by itself
almost now as the wind chills my clothes
cotton everywhere
i have made myself transparent
birdlike
i want to ask, fuckyouingly,
how do you stand a mailbox
abide a working telephone
how do you do it
tonight so starless
yesterday so temperate
leave me.
it always ends looking at a lamppost:
i couldn't have waited

Too Complicated for Saturday Nights

2008-05-04T01:42:00.000-07:00

i must have had a loose grasp on myself
to lose my station
watching people pass in and out of sarcasm
around a poker table
too complicated for saturday nights
down a hill braking all the way on my bike
beside a girl talking
i forgot breathing
my bike handlebars hitting her purse
turned vacant
dangers of mixed company
to be in a room of teeth
laughter, laughter, i grow heavy and overrated
twenty minutes later
i'd be wishing for an assault in the east bay
what to do with my hands as i see them laid useless under a pillow

Kid

2008-05-02T21:32:00.000-07:00

filled with many sharp things
crowded beyond my imagination
a world i belonged to once
not once, lingering there
did i dare cast out a single soft thing
let alone that which would cry about ice cream
sidewalks of summer see enough
children used to be lame
i think of a stomach different now
a floating novelty tied to my wrist
they lose balloons and cry
that is all with them

camera

2008-05-02T20:50:00.000-07:00

the first person under water with a camera
brings to earth ocean eyes
water gets everywhere

but it's hard to tell
hard to tell

Picture

2008-03-10T01:00:00.000-07:00

take a look at her hair piled up high
clean pan lip shine
shoulders relax on a strained couch
if you have to pull out
a picture
Take the one she left on purpose on
the counter by the sink
toothpaste smudged, keep her
in a photo booth
like she just solved
something like algebra
or you when it was okay

one liner

2008-03-08T23:05:00.001-08:00

the season was cracking and blurring in appropriate ways. sharper. freer. not frayed. we took up kung fu, backgammon, mash, frisbee golf, bloodletting. february failed. please write back. i want you to know about this.

Carry On

2008-03-08T18:53:00.000-08:00

Happy Maria on the bus making a call
in a lavender sweat suit, in evening, asking me
what street is this now
just to tell her the truth
gives me a reason not to grieve
purpose of snow globes
every little piece of snow eventually settles
then you are left to dust the shelf it rests on
pray for no earthquake to take out the shelf
you are left with directions to follow
little glamour outside of kindness
you are left tired and observing
what could we want out of life
more than a Maria in lavender, needing a word
two syllables pronounced at once.

There's A Problem Here

2008-02-27T01:47:00.001-08:00

There’s a problem here
Getting into the shower
Laying flat on my back with the keyboard on my belly-a laptop
To warm me
There is a problem here
With eating nothing but peanuts
A sickness here
Of not being able to telephone
Whom I most want to hear
Birds on the curtain fabric
Faded posters of a waterway or sound
Fed to multidimensional fact by thumb tack ineptitude
Didn’t know what I was talking about
What we weren’t talking about
Never left that town
That night
Wringing fear out of a cloth heart
Walk straight into a casino with a gun
Drive on the freeway from the passenger side honking
There is a problem with love
I see that now
A person should not ride the bus and say to themselves
“Where is god?”
More than bi-weekly
The counting is getting unreasonable
I can’t reason my way back
There’s no problem with
Just asking for a break
Just asking for the impossibility of safety
There is no problem
With numbers or dates, without reward
Nor hindsight to hold hands with, maybe hang out

You Can't Stop

2008-02-27T01:46:00.000-08:00

You can’t stop writing
You can’t stop writing even though nothing changes
But the reduction lines of cigarettes
The ash to paper ratio
The distance from smoke trail to filter
Could a stanza fit there?
The better part of a song, some misnamed solo
I’ve seen this before
Not utilizing my porch or much of anything
Not like the back of the box showed
You can’t stop writing when it’s time for other things

You're

2008-02-27T01:45:00.000-08:00

You’re sitting alone
One at one a.m.
The person who last called
Wants to fuck without kissing

You’re off work
Longing for assignment
Your internet is down
You can only stalk yourself
Worry about the long-lost dentist
You left with a long to do: list in south city

There is nothing quite like driving
Your boyfriend’s car alone over water or hills
Racing back with food or fresh painted feet

There is nothing quite like patience
Nothing in the world requires as much silence

If anything internal could come
Out and show
Or if you could bring back the dead
Or meet someone famous
You’d like to see his sweet intentions
Fill your room
Among them we could stay not seeing faces
Talking like we’re on coke

We Wrote Something New or Royal

2008-02-27T01:44:00.000-08:00

I wrote something new
Heard you and others knew it helps
Tea and cats for maintenance and temperature
For lifestyle
We wondered if two thousand eight would be depressing
Or just hilarious
Here is the secret you must copy and recopy paste
Double triple remember
When you don’t bet you don’t lose
In light or dark of that
Is it off to the deli or the steakhouse-
Is it my place or hers-
All remaining
Maintenance and temperature
Hourglass sand bumming my routine
No one was ever chased down
In history
Like the person I found
Who fought problems with art
Also you couldn’t trust him
Add here that we misplaced each other for good or worse

DRM

2008-02-27T01:43:00.001-08:00

If I talked in my sleep would you stay with me?
He was never more than a dream, a song in math.
From my window, a view out of reach, on a sick day in.
If I called his name from a stair waiting for you in the bathroom,
Leaving the light on so you could find your way down,
Could you forgive me?

Some men are for keeping that way.
We are too good.
Too good for the pain around our expiration,
That fragment I crumbled into beauty to show you too soon.
Even as I stood, taller than I know myself to be, corrected by a shadow,
Leveled by god, working, containing myself, could you see
Quitting?

You could be worth all the loss,
In advance, your shuffle into me.
Time isn’t all that I need.
The tears I hold in letters, in music, in posturing,
In memories out of state, baby cold medicine, absurd foods.
They will all come home.

Please forgive me for wanting to die alone.
There is nothing left but choice or
ground on which to meet.
To my stomach I will take your hand, place your palm to our future.
With a roundness and with indecision.
With my half heart held high.
Hail, faith, hail high reason.
Even my heart half full of you is enough.

Your sweet face smells like our sheets and pressed upon your phone from that fine neighborhood: I will be here taking the time these things take, Love
All the rage it does take to not walk alone,
Wake me from those other dreams,
I’m at home sleeping sick.
.

...

2007-12-08T21:16:00.001-08:00

Especially muscle weakness, if you have it.
Tell your doctor if you experience insomnia,
restless mouth syndrome, alcoholism,
or start with the rhyming.
Side effects may be attracting weary malcontents.
Don't lie; you take them all to the same swing set,
the same hillside view.

coffee

2007-12-08T21:02:00.000-08:00

Can you stop the raining
bullshit?
take as long as
You wish
I prepare coffee the same way
all week
for you.
Have you ever googled the word
Revenge?
It always brings in a crowd

Cigarette Burning Hair Smell

2007-11-17T15:27:00.000-08:00

november 13 2007 snuck up and i wasn't hurt. last night, why was i dressed up? where was i going? at least the volume was coming from the outside this time. my eyes pierce around and i possess an extra nervous movement in my limbs now, like when i don't eat. mccoy always notices these things. he calls my eyes, like now, with perhaps the added shade of a hoodie over my brow, my "manson lamps." i stalked my coffee like prey in the sahara, pressuring the counter girls making it; so i can't nurse it now. not with them watching.
i am trying to get on "solid ground," a phrase someone always prescribed or said to me. that is, to be centered in chaos, as i understand it. yet to him, i think solid ground would be considered anything that at least looks good from three states away: a house a dog a comma an essay outline a toilet paper roll on the roll a duvet on the blanket all bills in a stack a sponge in the dishwasher a clock on the wall a car in the drive a ledger for counting 40 hours a book on the night table a still photo on the wall an electric coffee maker a friend who is having a known birthday party somewhere wireless internet cable t.v. an opinion on obama tide laundry soap floss in an unopened pack in a visible place a mother not mad a father...a bottle unopened a song a prayer a boyfriend

Holy Lord

2007-11-07T23:56:00.000-08:00

I am a long way from home when you aren't with me.
You have been sketching the hours alone.
I watch fish on television with English narrators
and listen for them to tell me when it is okay
to get a job here.
You are in my headphones, you are on my clothes.
Remember everything i said?
I do.
And your face is a place that seems to tell me to go to school.
Sorry i used loving you as a reason my shit isn't tidy.
Sorry i dedicated disasters to you.
We are lucky when we see it.
There must have been a star shining tonight for you and
a bell must have struck where i was.
We are all in the right place.
We have been sent here to be awesome, perhaps together for the long haul.
Maybe i will let you go as i would give away a dead tape, like Nick says,
to have it come back in a different form..
Please don't be a shitting bird.
Please not an early financial aid check.
I want you back like a hail storm that broke the silence in the car
that we would have driven to death.
I will let you come home if i can finish building one first.
We once said we should endure the relationship with the fight and strength
of the Titanic--but like part two, if it were a movie.
And i said, yes, with the poor Irish people who died first in coach doing a
jig for us.
Because we are not giving up like that.
We is a word i can't use now.
I have said it a billion times over in my life, I will change.
Please let the good times roll.
My long winter is approaching, and i don't want to be late for summer.
Love, Hope, Texts never should have been sent, Forgiveness, Bacon scented ovens,
Brooke

Without You Day Three

2007-11-04T13:29:00.000-08:00

The rhythm of the morning is a train soon off tracks.
Coffee as air, jobs become clear.
The sky is filled with nothing but your absence.
One history as a false sentence, ours.
There must be ashes under my keyboard by now.
Somebody's getting fucked up.
Take a load off, have a chair and a smile, it'll be a while.
My shoulders, my nails, those testimonies of trying in slumping neglect.
Oh my god, the hardest part is inevitability.
The hardest part is knowing worry is luxury in a situation.
Cryptography when i'm not free, dead phones when i'm not hustling.
Love in the work and fight on the page.
I am ready to stand tall and oblivious to your Love.
Shave memories down the drain and raise my arms up.
Reach for myself; be a part of what i reach.

Greyhound Notes

2007-11-03T21:38:00.000-07:00

nov. 2. 2007
"I'm gonna smoke in a hot tub. hey, call my husband!"
-a voice four rows back

i wanted to tell this boy in salt lake city that it's cool that he's playing guitar. then he started singing too... this is dire. i've barely slept...it will be the same scene out of the window until the next rest stop. i wanted to call some drunk kin to see me at the smoke break in my home town after reno. they all live after reno, after boise, and before home: san francisco. hopefully, the cookie monster in the next row over isn't straining to read the words i write. already, i cried after lunch in a single bathroom stall. also while staring at snow nest to the new road. i'm sorry i name-dropped, ever, to anyone. i'm sorry i even know that that means...fellow stragglers on the bus shift through hours. it is amazing how each person has their individual style of contorting their body to maximize comfort across to seats. this old man in a suit did it the best i've seen en route to salt lake. all the fat girls have blankets and they act very white trash, entitled. like they are the only sibling who holds down a job in their parent's home- infested with older brothers. that is my feeling of all the poor people, poor white, pro-war, christian. confidence is all it takes to charm the blanket off all lay-over greyhound dawdlers...

the latest from what the faulkner?!

2007-11-03T20:24:00.000-07:00

A Poem By Brooke Harries

I have noticed that my last name is English and responded with an aspiration to add a hyphen eventually, and an extra name like "Smythe" or something ending in "-berry" Like aspirin that never indicates to your brain at a ruined gossip party, "you headache will cease soon" The pain is gone out of the blue and you are left with the water glass magnetizing cat hair thinking, "i love this stuff." We could all be sporty about our fellows and encourage the smallest speck of talent, or we could dive desperate into the pockets of our jeans and find even the crumb collected there made better ART. Fuck the publisher. Fuck their Pen/Faulkner award. Like peeing in your best friend's shower after being lent a hand--"people all do this, right?" After the phone rings and the police are asking for money. It is so ironic that you have to pace around the house you are a quest at, not familiar with that particular phone in the first place. Your poor ass hates the police! Since the alphabet; since always, but you politely decline their offer for a donation. Why of all words does "trep.i.da.tion" sit in your dictionary like your father's weed stash? We could all be so cool and clever that the literature brought us down, made us lose lovers. Don't think I'm writing because i know. I just got handed a toothpick and said, "Great, I'll use this when i care." I write this just to ask, if i keep curing my own cancers to finally keep a lover, one acceptable, will my lovely scientists run out of funding? Isn't it time my taste buds change? I'm so hungry, I'd like the couch. So, one fifth of life is sensible. The rest is hunting me down like, you know, a headache without stopping or getting ambiguously over itself.

resolution

2007-10-30T21:47:00.001-07:00

you can't find the truth
if you just keep talking

breath all clouded with smoke
roads filled with people
you didn't mean to fear

the father theory
the significance of styrofoam plates
trips to idaho

off the phone and listing the room so full
objects on blankets and details that show me this hotel knows
like an extra water glass, bed, paper pad
and fall into the second to lowest rate

the freeway light show
roaring business of people i never meant to hurt
the lighter is pink and a decent color
some words need to be written with ink
not said together too often
i love you is three of those
i love you is not a question
i love you is not a demand

i am looking in and i am dressed for sleep
i approach the bed as if it is a park bench

please stay

2007-09-22T21:45:00.000-07:00

i should learn how to write short stories.

said the blogger to the preteen

2007-09-02T12:31:00.000-07:00

I told a twelve-year-old not to watch cartoons anymore but to read instead.
Before bed i prepared my sheets, setting them straight and tucked around the mattress. Having had a long day, i expected no delay with getting to sleep. I got up and ate three cold raviolis. I went to pee three times and i wondered how i could lure sleep into my world. There is a life beyond journaling. It horrifies me. I have lived long, seemingly in one dilating conversation wherein various persons participate; but i am trying to explain myself as accurately as possible. In the end, i hope i understand what i said that did not work.

Neighboring Power Line

2007-08-23T00:11:00.000-07:00

I am sitting up wishing i was beyond a diary entry. Wanting that for myself. The moon. Peace in my heart. I have had it. Been on the internet looking at things you could not imagine. My family members tell me things all over mashed potatoes that would make you never eat mashed potatoes again. It happened again tonight. Sitting there. I separated fact from possible fiction, my needs from my desires, right from wrong, illegal from who cares. I hate talking to people sometimes. When i can't even write about it here, it is bad.
I never shouted, i never pushed, i never had my chance at scaring them that way.
I held it in and it stayed in. It came out with little tears on first dates, panics in grocery stores of self-pity, verbose manic talking where i never got to know anyone for a whole season. All of these recent months i have been dealing with my early years. Every negative thought finds it's root at my parents misstep. I am still not angry. I am too tired for rage. I am sitting awake at night in half memories and vague shame. I could call an expert. They are always at hand. Like a free estimate tree guy i could get them over here. As a branch intruding over a neighboring power line, a single worry is my hazard.

laborare est orare

2007-08-17T23:28:00.000-07:00

to work is to pray

new job soon. coming into my life like a forlorn ewok i will set up with a lemonade and listen to for a time. who cares about likening. i am vertical for about ten more minutes then i am a slave to the fiction i will open. things are slow when it is hot out. people work harder and worry harder in cold weather. bicker in the wind, i swear. blogs are getting shorter and shorter. i do not need to blog about everything.
but i will say this, i miss my old friends and i will be back to where i was from.

notes

2007-08-13T18:33:00.000-07:00

flashing red reno lights of the goals made. smoked camels by pounds. too unimportant for paranoia. it gets that dark. senseless excuses to make the patio again fills with untoward pauses after inhaling that concrete fume in zero wind. water at a filthy dine tastes like a river swam in by several underpaid asses over time. and i'm still in love. to maintain a state of passive poverty the people must have gravy. electric fans plugged into odd sockets with color arrangements doted on by the new youth. a day later-- afraid of whole sentences. i am looking for too many signs.

details

2007-08-11T12:15:00.000-07:00

four books sit by my side on the eggshell colored comforter. but i am mixed up.
i don't know which to read, or maybe just smoke only and look at their covers.
reasons for being covert have arrived.
in specific love.

now my iced white mocha got watery. it matches with the comforter.
this boy walked in and showed me a drawing and asked me who it was.
i wanted it to be me but more than that to just not be vain.
it was me. a sketch from a photo booth picture he was also holding.
now on his bed i am playing the greatest alternative music on the laptop.

to halah by mazzy star we work separate.
he is on the carpet cross-legged as a camp counselor.
constructing a wallet.

Flower Power

2007-08-04T03:38:00.000-07:00

You sing, "turn, turn, turn.."
That song was on when you got your braces off.

I say, "i have a dental story involving you"

Post wisdom tooth removal and entering the bright lights, i talked about you out of that sleep.
"Those are the best lyrics ever", you say "Black is black/I want my baby back."

We watch t.v. ten CD's for ten dollars. "Flower Power" and the "Classic 60's".
WE NEED THEM SO UNIQUE AND SPECIAL IT WOULD TAKE YEARS TO COLLECT ALL OF THESE TO POUND ON THE DASHBOARD AND HAVE 3 MINUTES OF A SONG ALL YOUR CARES ARE GONE

THE YOUNG RASCALS ARE ALL UP IN THIS PIECE

Shark Week, For Razie

2007-08-01T22:52:00.000-07:00

Firstly, I would like to say that any of the following about Shark Week, the special on the Discovery channel, is purely my own opinion and not meant to hurt you. Maybe you can even help me to see it your way if you post a comment. I need all the help i can get at this point.

It was only two days in of the annual annals of shark past and new stories on the program, when i got a sinking feeling inside my chest. What i had realized after watching for about six hours was that sharks are not what i thought they were. I mean, in the last for years, although there were about 289 attacks off the coast of Florida, there remains a 99% survival rate. So only 3 of those 289 people "attacked" were actually killed. So it's like, almost, finding out that santa claus wasn't real. Maybe more like finding out that of the 289 santa clauses running around big city in december, only 3 are really the real deal. That's fucking a bummer.

What's more amusing, the scientists that study these sharks seem to be of two types. The first is totally the meat-and-potato, midwestern-math-teacher-mom-having, blonde academic, the second type is the man variety who will actually sit atop a partially eaten whale carcass as sharks are biting off more of the whale, nearly getting knocked off into the water with the sharks.

The ocean is scary. We'd hardly be human if it weren't. It's one of the most unoriginal and undeniable human understandings; the ocean is a wide, dark thing. It is a bigger than us. It is never for us to completely for us to comprehend or contain. These fins and tales and reports, studies and so forth. They are cool just because the ocean is where sharks are. But sharks are no longer the bad-asses they once seemed. And look what the mermaid and unicorns turned out to be: fucking forsaken manatees and narwhals. Oh, narwhal.

One final note, i really hope that the Discovery channel is not sparing the details of how horrific sharks actually are so kids can watch the show or something. I'd love to whip up a conspiracy theory against the D channel in order to get back my old gusto for the shark. But i'm a little too old for that. I will say this though. I was excited this week, I clapped and disturbed neighbors, i marked calendars, and got all ready for the special.

Then, i went down to the video store and rented 90210 first season episodes. I was talking with the video man about gently delaying payment of my late fees. I eased him off of me and my last cents by making conversation. I said, "has SHARK WEEK hurt business...it slow in here..."
He didn't even know what it was.
Exactly.
Stay tuned. I'm writing something about how disappointing 90210 was to watch, for the second time, seventeen years later. Like since i wasn't seven.
NO WONDER I WAS DOWN. WHEN U R 7, BRENDA IS DEEP, BRANDON IS WELL-MEANING, AND DYLAN, WELL HE'S JUST ALWAYS OLD BUT HOT.

untitles

2007-07-30T20:12:00.000-07:00

the wind carried off things. how can we ever say it didn't?

Car

2007-07-14T19:20:00.000-07:00

does it hurt us sitting and going nowhere?
i feel a similar ache.
i guess i said the wrong thing.
like three miles back.
we've been quiet.
review means nothing.
i am going to break away and kiss your face.
sit down and read something from a long time ago.

Pavement

2007-07-11T18:00:00.001-07:00

so i just mailed you a package
and i know
i don't have enough pavement to make it through this

blistered but manicured feet
summer rain came here last night

i am up as if awake as if changing
but i am only getting into a shower
with deep pain

translated from the german translators
a traitor to my own landscape

so graceless on a wednesday
i'd mistake a cab for a cop car
things are not that bad
some chick just mentioned myspace

Sauntering

2007-07-11T01:49:00.000-07:00

sauntering with hip bones to jut
if needed

i can't forget
someone had to bring me
a peanut butter and jelly at work

no matter how cool i am
i still cannot pay my own rent

Because I Must

2007-07-11T01:20:00.000-07:00

because i must
i am on your porch
with music you played on the beach

i feel looked at, glowing
like italic font in highlighter ink

you're so new i could still explain
how italian i am or not
any rendition of how i quit the drink

who i'm calling baby
for instance no one

every potential remains
exit and luggage
as i sit on your stoop

steeped in misunderstanding
walks on beaches

all of loves ephemera
call my hands to work through writing
calm nerves with dish water

make reckless observations dining
until death do i doubt

down to the finish line
since before it felt like the first time
the first time

If I

2007-07-11T01:14:00.000-07:00

if i had a dollar
for wish i didn't say it
if i had a genre
for don't know yet
but can taste it
i'd be wealthy and organized
i remember every word i mispronounce
for all time
for old times
pretty heart spins on wire and boot scuff
leaving never looked imaginable
if i had a day i could spare
without communication
from anywhere
i'd scoot on the sideways
and navigate to where i ought
at last i'd drift into the possible
the specific
but i keep forgetting to gather the verbs
and trim the nouns
the whole arrangement is dying
leaves are falling all over the table so bare

Waiting For The Bus

2007-07-11T00:41:00.000-07:00

waiting for the bus
feeling cars pass
waiting in all caps for a while

we agreed everything feels different at night
terror in fine but all final glamor

wanted to see him confront
high fructose corn syrup sensations
see this through things getting Catholic

because of emerson and mccullers
finger nails get neglected enough

bleeding gums
and high rent
and low lows

spirits
no matter how addicting

had to make myself go
it is actually night
the cat is circling the floor with a dislocated hip

at last
the cost of longing is clear

rather hear meaningless paws upon hard wood
than be deaf but pine
for what is not but could be mine

Relentless Cat Power Until Mike Buys Me Cigarettes

2007-07-06T13:46:00.000-07:00

It's friday: here's where i'm at:
The fog is thick and the sky here is a great gray whale. remembering on the bus when i went to school, how i played joni mitchell and did my crossword too. i would watch a man's hands who was sitting next to me and try to solve the puzzle quicker. my teacher was not impressed with my candor. with my late arrivals. with my journal-writing in the brown mathematics bungalows. in general, i'm sorry about wanton British wit, but i got it from the movies my parents didn't see. if someone wanted to pay me like twenty eight thousand dollars to relax, i'd say "keep the money." that predictable Fail would be embarrassing. if there were a way to feel the world was safe, i would have located it, bottled it, and saved some for now. sippy sip. need a cigarettes package.

Love Letter 1

2007-07-06T13:41:00.000-07:00

i like exactitude. say, i would like to look at you exactly in the face the way i want to.
i would like to give you a dangerous look that would warn you that i mean all the simplicity that has flown into my eyes. because i would be comfortable.

i would like to see you testing or impatient. bored, ordinary. the mechanical intelligence of your hands, your natural sense of direction in a car and not order you about. see you run on your own clues. all your own lines of logic.

you might be human, and i have a lot of experience with imperfection in humanity.
let me tell you right now, i am pleased that the world has yielded a friend who is bringing out my better instincts. selfish or worse. i said it.

what's more, i'd like to hold you close and kiss you on the lips.
that is the least i could do. i could not want much more. but i would want more.
i have lived in doubts, but i can quit at any time.

there is a waiting bed and a tired frame i am holding up in poor posture, so i will end this letter. farther than everything/so near there are two pens here.
i would write you a poem, but it would be early. so i write them in my sleep and i write them walking to work.

they will find their own fonts and assistants in spelling one day when i sit tight with a notebook near the ocean. as i will or will not find my way to your heart/either way the sea will be by our sides.
no matter where we live. with best intent/bkh

No Other

2007-07-06T13:39:00.000-07:00

My mood yesterday was one of prickly...prickly crotchediness.
(Repeat forever.)--McCoy

According to my calendar it's your birthday today. Have a happy day. --Grandma

MHBofawnhhefo;nmfwiomdfofwbnojjnwnfnonowf
You're my favorite.--Teresa

You're not even going to answer the phone on your birthday? I loveyou. Call me. Okay. Bye. -- Natalie

Sweet baby angel. I hope you got your card. Call mama. Bye bye. God bless. Keep safe! --Mama

these are the messages worth mentioning that i got on my birthday, which recently passed. lately i'm tired of everyone comparing everything to something else. this is no other.

Translated from the Western Addition

2007-07-03T12:43:00.001-07:00

woke at nine at night and started in-- heavy handed on the sink, scrubbing. my back was to my house mate. i said, "it's not a disco nap if you don't go to the disco when you wake up." soberly he said, "nope." we'd do almost anything for food. shells and cheese and spinach salad then on to respective bedrooms. the next time we met up in the kitchen, amongst glass poodle salt & pepper shaker, fruit bowl and lost hot sauce packets, we ate again. he had steak. i had Cheerios standing up. the counter is covered in molasses and crumbs. twist ties and plastic bread clips calling out to the calendar. rent is due. i'm calling mom. she's pretending to take a nap but her voice comes through the telephone like she is sweet. i believe i am still her baby. a frothy iced mocha sits here with the ashtray. aliza just got in a taxi and her camel light smoke makes it's way behind her. i am thinking of two things. getting out of debt and reading only Americans. looking around to devise what to sell, glancing the phone for a clue, stomach and pulse are raging with the idea that an anthem could apply here. only bike rides, only new bangs and bands YOU'VE never heard of. if that is what san francisco is doing to me. my to do: list is getting pillaged. sending it's ass to rehab.

hawhaw

2007-06-20T00:01:00.000-07:00

with your name sketched twice, i drew a map of forgetting, and scorned pizza breath. for i knew the truth. of being human, of having flaws engrained, of mouth running away before brain--lonely. laughing until i am in trouble again. putting problems aside. i've settled into a land without sleep, and there is an angel for the occasion. it is clean sheets. but i had so many better things to day. only that was before. i heard something great yesterday. a woman said, "by the time you find out it's too late, it's too late." for what it is worth, i want a muse who dares to mean more. i've said it. perfect ambiguity. i've said it all a hundred times. i have nothing left to offer for tonight. the technical part is that now it is wednesday. but it is tuesday when you have been fresh from the disco. got no time for the time stamp on eblogger, man.

talking to willis II

2007-06-19T21:53:00.000-07:00

give it a shot. i think you will like this. why do you like palace? how could you not like like hugh hefner? i really can't see very well. it's like you can see every dust particle.

cigarettes in my bath robe on a chair

2007-06-18T01:00:00.001-07:00

i'm sick of right where i'm supposed to be. i could make you satisfied, in my wrecked room. triumph of cadence in the shower. thinking. hating to light up another smoke. god, give us time to get it all done. all the writing. we are sorry at night for how we justified daylight. how we tore past better moments and found time standing still, at last, on an edge somewhere, and ready to move if only anything felt worth the change. please, i asked why. nothing real can come from an invented thing. i will say it now. the sky was incapable. it yielded some rain. not much would fall, but it did on our walks. where i was going; the place you stopped talking. i halted breath to find you staring, out of bed, unreasonable. wake up, i'm happy in the morning without coffee. you know this, you want less. die inside yourself, fine. find a place as real as whats available to you. read tonight more rilke to make me sick and thought about my hands and feet. the coarse work day is done. inside my bath robe, gifted, beloved, announced. i could shed my ashes around the floor. but the ashtray is fine. it was made for olive oil and has never seen bread. i hate the ocean, forget about it constantly. you loved every second of that. i can see it in your timing. i can hear you like vague seconds. when one cigarette is still smoking itself out and the next is being lit, i can see disappointment. it rides up my like a skirt. cars pass laughing. all i can hear is the inferior music and capitalist breaks from radios roaring within.