Sunday, April 24, 2011
Saturday, December 04, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Hello, world
It's not time yet
to erect our monument, and I
won't let that be our fate.
Summer says wake up
loudly with sunlight.
Drink some, then home.
But if you researched me, you'd never know.
It's not time yet to meet with fate.
The past rests in dust on
every thing we own,
but we aren't letting go.
It's not time yet to let go,
the springs are swollen with rain
and we are slipping from the rocks.
Diving into dark waters at night,
swimming naked in the desert.
Whole lives are lived in secret.
Between the crowd
and when you are alone.
In that moment, we dive down.
We are walking, walking, walking.
It's not time yet
to erect our monument, and I
won't let that be our fate.
Summer says wake up
loudly with sunlight.
Drink some, then home.
But if you researched me, you'd never know.
It's not time yet to meet with fate.
The past rests in dust on
every thing we own,
but we aren't letting go.
It's not time yet to let go,
the springs are swollen with rain
and we are slipping from the rocks.
Diving into dark waters at night,
swimming naked in the desert.
Whole lives are lived in secret.
Between the crowd
and when you are alone.
In that moment, we dive down.
We are walking, walking, walking.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
The shadow moves across the porch,
I watch from my bed
counting minutes and moving between tabs.
On the radio I hear from society
the movements of Jon and Kate
plus eight
and a key they're giving to
what we know of evil.
I walk between rooms
the shadow also moves
searching for what I am to do.
I contemplate a wasp's nest
with wonder how they fit.
Hiding when the mail comes
with circulars and envelopes.
I move to the sun
and listen to Eric Bachman sing of Spain.
lost in these rooms
these clothes and another city.
But everything is here.
we carry with us the weight,
what I dreamed to be and do,
inside the pages of my notebooks.
By evening the shadow is thick across the house
and you come home smelling of the world,
pencil shavings, sweat and laughter.
I am the sheets and stuffy emptiness you loathe,
I wait for the shadow,
I wait for the laundry,
I wait for a phone call.
I watch from my bed
counting minutes and moving between tabs.
On the radio I hear from society
the movements of Jon and Kate
plus eight
and a key they're giving to
what we know of evil.
I walk between rooms
the shadow also moves
searching for what I am to do.
I contemplate a wasp's nest
with wonder how they fit.
Hiding when the mail comes
with circulars and envelopes.
I move to the sun
and listen to Eric Bachman sing of Spain.
lost in these rooms
these clothes and another city.
But everything is here.
we carry with us the weight,
what I dreamed to be and do,
inside the pages of my notebooks.
By evening the shadow is thick across the house
and you come home smelling of the world,
pencil shavings, sweat and laughter.
I am the sheets and stuffy emptiness you loathe,
I wait for the shadow,
I wait for the laundry,
I wait for a phone call.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Here are the things we know for certain
life is brief
summer is hot in Texas
and Arizona,
cheese can satisfy even on its own
and when all else fails,
liquor is a good option.
Among those things we suspect but cannot test,
love moves through us and touches those around,
we were right even if we were children
ours will be the story people want to watch.
life is brief
summer is hot in Texas
and Arizona,
cheese can satisfy even on its own
and when all else fails,
liquor is a good option.
Among those things we suspect but cannot test,
love moves through us and touches those around,
we were right even if we were children
ours will be the story people want to watch.
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