I can't understand
what the fuck you're saying
I imagine that's because of
the years of drug use
But still. . . you rarely make
sense when you're sober
And that doesn't mean I
don't dig it, because I dig it a lot
Your raw sex is something to
dig as well. You gave it away
freely and we accepted it
without question. It was the
brazen attitude that was
charming.
You've changed though
a million times over,
but that's all water under the bridge
Who are you transmitting signals to?
I've always wondered
who the audience was
what could the purpose be?
For love? For a friend?
It's always sounded like
a lot of love for a lot of friends.
Are you still transmitting?
and for how long?
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Familiar Wind
The wind moves slyly around a young woman's
skirt,
pushing the bottom, ever so slightly, up her knees.
The flutter allows me to see
the brown skin of her thighs,
if only for the briefest moment.
She doesn't notice.
She drinks tea as the warm breeze
makes itself more familiar with her body
The wind's hands course their way
along her bare feet
The wind's lips kiss the firm muscles
of her calves
The wind runs its cheek along the insides
of her thighs
The wind blows a warm sigh
against her beautiful delta,
acting on my behalf.
Only when she feels a tremor in her body,
does she quickly pull her skirt lower.
And it makes me smile.
Her decorum and modesty with an already
intimate nature
Makes me smile
O! How I wish I were that familiar wind.
skirt,
pushing the bottom, ever so slightly, up her knees.
The flutter allows me to see
the brown skin of her thighs,
if only for the briefest moment.
She doesn't notice.
She drinks tea as the warm breeze
makes itself more familiar with her body
The wind's hands course their way
along her bare feet
The wind's lips kiss the firm muscles
of her calves
The wind runs its cheek along the insides
of her thighs
The wind blows a warm sigh
against her beautiful delta,
acting on my behalf.
Only when she feels a tremor in her body,
does she quickly pull her skirt lower.
And it makes me smile.
Her decorum and modesty with an already
intimate nature
Makes me smile
O! How I wish I were that familiar wind.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Portrait: Nathan (some guy at the Target bus stop)
(This is an actually account of my conversation with a young man at the Target transfer stop in Normal, IL.)
He shouted at me and I didn't see him.
I did, I just looked down real quick
like I didn't.
I'm just sitting here on this bus stop bench
like some open prey down at the water hole
Here he comes.
I'm fucking starving! What are you reading?
The Race Myth.
Looks brand new. From the public library?
Yep.
I got no money. I'm hungry. I gotta get to a
car dealership.
Really?
Oh man, I'm hungry. Where is there a place
to eat?
There's a Hardies or a McDonalds up the street.
(laughs) You know I don't eat that stuff.
Actually, I don't know you from Adam.
What's your name?
Charish
Charish. Yeah. My name is Nathan.
Nathan? Nice to meet you.
What are you listening to?
Gnarls Barkley.
Yeah? Which song?
Crazy.
You would! (Pause. Would I? By this time, I had to laugh at that statement.
We've known each other for a whole three minutes and I wanted to mace him.)
Where are you from, Nathan?
Here.
Do you go to school?
I'm a senior at ISU. I'm fuckin' BORED. Bored as FUCK!
Got a job?
I got three!
You can't be too bored, huh?
Yeah. But I love what I do. It's rewarding!
(I didn't ask him about what he did.)
Where's the fucking bus when you need it? For chrissake! (to a passing woman in the distance) You are fucking HOT!. That dress is fucking HOT! I'm hungry as FUCK. What do you do, Charish?
I'm a student.
What year?
I'm a senior.
What's your thing?
My thing is English.
Do you speak any other languages?
No.
No hablas espanol?
Not enough to get by.
I speak Spanish and German. But I've never been to Spain
or Germany. I hope to remedy that.
Cool.
I've seen you around. You look familiar. That girl
was fucking hot. I'm just saying.
This looks like the bus coming.
Yeah it is. Let me read some of that book before it comes.
You know what? You probably wouldn't like it.
Maybe you're right.
Have a good day, Nathan.
He shouted at me and I didn't see him.
I did, I just looked down real quick
like I didn't.
I'm just sitting here on this bus stop bench
like some open prey down at the water hole
Here he comes.
I'm fucking starving! What are you reading?
The Race Myth.
Looks brand new. From the public library?
Yep.
I got no money. I'm hungry. I gotta get to a
car dealership.
Really?
Oh man, I'm hungry. Where is there a place
to eat?
There's a Hardies or a McDonalds up the street.
(laughs) You know I don't eat that stuff.
Actually, I don't know you from Adam.
What's your name?
Charish
Charish. Yeah. My name is Nathan.
Nathan? Nice to meet you.
What are you listening to?
Gnarls Barkley.
Yeah? Which song?
Crazy.
You would! (Pause. Would I? By this time, I had to laugh at that statement.
We've known each other for a whole three minutes and I wanted to mace him.)
Where are you from, Nathan?
Here.
Do you go to school?
I'm a senior at ISU. I'm fuckin' BORED. Bored as FUCK!
Got a job?
I got three!
You can't be too bored, huh?
Yeah. But I love what I do. It's rewarding!
(I didn't ask him about what he did.)
Where's the fucking bus when you need it? For chrissake! (to a passing woman in the distance) You are fucking HOT!. That dress is fucking HOT! I'm hungry as FUCK. What do you do, Charish?
I'm a student.
What year?
I'm a senior.
What's your thing?
My thing is English.
Do you speak any other languages?
No.
No hablas espanol?
Not enough to get by.
I speak Spanish and German. But I've never been to Spain
or Germany. I hope to remedy that.
Cool.
I've seen you around. You look familiar. That girl
was fucking hot. I'm just saying.
This looks like the bus coming.
Yeah it is. Let me read some of that book before it comes.
You know what? You probably wouldn't like it.
Maybe you're right.
Have a good day, Nathan.
I don't have to stand out.
I don't need to be critically acclaimed.
Being average is nothing to be afraid of.
Without status quo, how will we
know when extraordinary hits us
in the balls?
I will gladly wear the shoes of anonymity,
if it means that a circus performer
wins the lotto and gets shot
by a deranged clown.
I can afford to be the regular Joe
who sits at a Taco Bell Drive Thru
and orders some cheesy monstrosity
advertised on their latest commercial.
I don't need to be critically acclaimed.
Being average is nothing to be afraid of.
Without status quo, how will we
know when extraordinary hits us
in the balls?
I will gladly wear the shoes of anonymity,
if it means that a circus performer
wins the lotto and gets shot
by a deranged clown.
I can afford to be the regular Joe
who sits at a Taco Bell Drive Thru
and orders some cheesy monstrosity
advertised on their latest commercial.
For whatever it's worth I can be plain
I got no qualms with being common.
Monday, July 28, 2008
July 24th, 2008
It may or may not rain today
There's a good chance though
I'm sitting on an open-for-public-perch,
my legs are out, my shoes are off
It's quite cool outside. I think it might rain
in a few moments
My feet are cool in this seventy-five degree weather
There are quite a few flies out here
They pester me, but they mean well, I'm sure
One is making its way up my leg, the feeling is bothersome
I've read a book
not all of it,
but enough. It's a good book
I wish it would go ahead and rain already
I've looked around too. Sight seeing while sitting
It's easy to do while waiting for the rain.
There's a good chance though
I'm sitting on an open-for-public-perch,
my legs are out, my shoes are off
It's quite cool outside. I think it might rain
in a few moments
My feet are cool in this seventy-five degree weather
There are quite a few flies out here
They pester me, but they mean well, I'm sure
One is making its way up my leg, the feeling is bothersome
I've read a book
not all of it,
but enough. It's a good book
I wish it would go ahead and rain already
I've looked around too. Sight seeing while sitting
It's easy to do while waiting for the rain.
Method
I
My bed is a mess, of the highest regards
I’ve gotten out the tools of my trade
and spread them out, over the blankets
My music— stereo and CD’s
My dictionary— I can’t be that cad, now can I?
There is an anthology
There is criticism
There is a book called Latin Made Simple
Really? I’ve gone and fooled myself again,
haven’t I?
Stein and Kerouac have also joined me
sitting patiently, waiting for some say so
There is a phone, but I’m not expecting calls
or news
And we all know what is said about no news
II
This mess, with these tools
makes me work at a chaotic but steady pace
I am only distracted by clipping my toenails
and past memories
I am using all of these tools to become
a low brow speculator
who lives in a timeless world
I’ve changed three CD’s— Ravi Shankar
for Jack Johnson for Aqualung
The tall and solid walls of Jericho
are going to fall— hard.
Just as soon as these tools assimilate
and work properly
III
I am the poet. I am the freak
I am the one who sees what others have forgotten
how to see. It makes me feel better
not to be known as the freak
I am ready to fall in love, yet again
or go mad. Gertrude, who looks mildly interested,
agrees.
In this mess, I want the ability to find my things
I’d like to find my things
I need all of my things. With these tools,
I am a tongue-tied child who makes demands
and makes everything slightly more interesting
I make your bones ache less
I make your mind less congested
I make your walls fall— hard.
My bed is a mess, of the highest regards
I’ve gotten out the tools of my trade
and spread them out, over the blankets
My music— stereo and CD’s
My dictionary— I can’t be that cad, now can I?
There is an anthology
There is criticism
There is a book called Latin Made Simple
Really? I’ve gone and fooled myself again,
haven’t I?
Stein and Kerouac have also joined me
sitting patiently, waiting for some say so
There is a phone, but I’m not expecting calls
or news
And we all know what is said about no news
II
This mess, with these tools
makes me work at a chaotic but steady pace
I am only distracted by clipping my toenails
and past memories
I am using all of these tools to become
a low brow speculator
who lives in a timeless world
I’ve changed three CD’s— Ravi Shankar
for Jack Johnson for Aqualung
The tall and solid walls of Jericho
are going to fall— hard.
Just as soon as these tools assimilate
and work properly
III
I am the poet. I am the freak
I am the one who sees what others have forgotten
how to see. It makes me feel better
not to be known as the freak
I am ready to fall in love, yet again
or go mad. Gertrude, who looks mildly interested,
agrees.
In this mess, I want the ability to find my things
I’d like to find my things
I need all of my things. With these tools,
I am a tongue-tied child who makes demands
and makes everything slightly more interesting
I make your bones ache less
I make your mind less congested
I make your walls fall— hard.
This is a shit load— shit·load \ˈshit-ˌlōd\ n (1973) usu vulgar: a very large amount: LOT— of nonsensical information to ingest. It’s like saying that some of the dharma made me think differently about the world.
The only stress I wish to endure, today, is carefully pulling Gertrude’s How to Write from the bottom of the book pile. I don’t care if “a” is an article or if “the” is an article. Thank you.
The music— my music can be the fascist dictator, who informs me of what I feel today. Stress and anxiety or sobriety brought on by the gravelly voice of Eddie Vedder.
I like suggestion as much as the next person. I can be enticed and seduced by the small space between shit load and bullshit— 1bull·shit \ˈbul-ˌshit also ˈbəl-\ n [²bull & ³bull] (1914) usu vulgar: NONSENSE; esp: foolish insolent talk.
The only stress I wish to endure, today, is carefully pulling Gertrude’s How to Write from the bottom of the book pile. I don’t care if “a” is an article or if “the” is an article. Thank you.
The music— my music can be the fascist dictator, who informs me of what I feel today. Stress and anxiety or sobriety brought on by the gravelly voice of Eddie Vedder.
I like suggestion as much as the next person. I can be enticed and seduced by the small space between shit load and bullshit— 1bull·shit \ˈbul-ˌshit also ˈbəl-\ n [²bull & ³bull] (1914) usu vulgar: NONSENSE; esp: foolish insolent talk.
Sed libera nos a melo
I had a dream that I was a pre-pubescent girl playing kick-ball. I was so flat-chested, I didn’t have to worry about slipping bra-straps. When I ran to home plate, I kissed a boy and won the game.
I think I finally got my period
What makes you say that?
Because the masses are quieted
and my underwear is bloodied.
You are mistaken. In these times
of love and war, it’s easy to get
hit by flying shrapnel and call it
destiny, desire, or menstruation
Can we hold hands in the hallways and pass notes until we get into trouble? I kiss like they do in the movies. My cinematography is brilliant and the lighting flatters us very well. I’m certain I am a woman now.
I rounded second base all by myself, sure I was going to get pinned by a rubber red ball. Right in the traitorous back, you could say. The crowd roared when I met third and then hushed when I found home. I was met with glory. The boy was no one, but his lips were Everyman.
I am bleeding all over the place,
isn’t there something minor to be
done?
Tampax is not suitable for this
situation! We need gauze and a
priest, preferably a young one who
speaks mother’s tongue.
I remember feeling distinct doom,
but I wasn’t being literal. Please!
Please just find me a sponge!
“Our father who are in heaven”
Pater noster qui es in caelis
“Hollowed by thy name”
Santificetur nomen tuum
“Thy kingdom come”
Adveniant regnum tuum
This isn’t even the right sacrament!
We hardly have the time for this, just
skip to the end.
If I don’t wash the blood out
with cold water, the stain will set.
I hit third base and the crowd roared. I hit home and they were hushed. I kissed the boy’s lips and the dam broke. I felt his tongue and the world fell away.
Skip to the good part, Father.
Et nos de inducas in tentationem
sed libera nos a melo
amen
Can we hold hands like the movies and kiss like the children? Can I call you and then cry when I hang up? Can we take it from the top again, starting with my line: “But deliver us from evil.”
Sed libera nos a melo.
I think I finally got my period
What makes you say that?
Because the masses are quieted
and my underwear is bloodied.
You are mistaken. In these times
of love and war, it’s easy to get
hit by flying shrapnel and call it
destiny, desire, or menstruation
Can we hold hands in the hallways and pass notes until we get into trouble? I kiss like they do in the movies. My cinematography is brilliant and the lighting flatters us very well. I’m certain I am a woman now.
I rounded second base all by myself, sure I was going to get pinned by a rubber red ball. Right in the traitorous back, you could say. The crowd roared when I met third and then hushed when I found home. I was met with glory. The boy was no one, but his lips were Everyman.
I am bleeding all over the place,
isn’t there something minor to be
done?
Tampax is not suitable for this
situation! We need gauze and a
priest, preferably a young one who
speaks mother’s tongue.
I remember feeling distinct doom,
but I wasn’t being literal. Please!
Please just find me a sponge!
“Our father who are in heaven”
Pater noster qui es in caelis
“Hollowed by thy name”
Santificetur nomen tuum
“Thy kingdom come”
Adveniant regnum tuum
This isn’t even the right sacrament!
We hardly have the time for this, just
skip to the end.
If I don’t wash the blood out
with cold water, the stain will set.
I hit third base and the crowd roared. I hit home and they were hushed. I kissed the boy’s lips and the dam broke. I felt his tongue and the world fell away.
Skip to the good part, Father.
Et nos de inducas in tentationem
sed libera nos a melo
amen
Can we hold hands like the movies and kiss like the children? Can I call you and then cry when I hang up? Can we take it from the top again, starting with my line: “But deliver us from evil.”
Sed libera nos a melo.
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