Saturday, December 17, 2011

iPod Poems

(February 6th, 2010)
Filling orders requested
As signs dwell between past and present
I am in those spaces
Are you listening as particles collide over me
New noises and new toys to make me known
Don't deny me my existence
In this hungry place the liberty is satisfying my cravings
Quietly I dwell
As the afternoon sun hides from warming me
But cool air can do nothing to reslice the past
Thanks to those who make me nervous
I need you plenty as I need noone else

(July 25th, 2010)
I am a loner
I use others to feed my selfish desires.
They are there for me
Am I there for them?
Am I
Am I?
First steps always, right?
Then what?
Then wind me up and let me go
Out on my own
Subtleties and vagaries
Weave nothing below my mottled surface
Ah fuck you
I am sorry I treated you so
Shelved with no place to go
In my little universe you were trapped
My little universe is selfish
I have so little power I'm told
But I don't believe you.
I think I am incredibly powerful.
And in this delusion of mine I am sorry.
Even outside I am sorry.
I am using my own desires to stall these pathways
To block these highways
These highways
My highways
Your flaking roadways
And you still smile
A sad smile
Thank you.

(August 2nd, 2010)
How tragic some realities become
When perception is limited
We know nothing
A war vet blind to all but his crisp appearance
Begging on these streets
A facade perhaps
And cynicism turns round opinions so quick
But meanwhile the poor man stands grinning and hopeful
His mind a shell of its wasted potential
His mind is gone
For reasons I will not know
I will leave him behind this afternoon
He will keep on being
I am sorry til my perception turns elsewhere
But he will still be
His world will still turn
And I don't know even how I will treat him while my perception of him is strong
He is simple in my eyes
And I pass over the layers subtle in his eyes
What more am I willing to be?

But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires. -James Joyce, Dubliners

Sent from my iPod

Sunday, April 10, 2011

April 10th

Settle underneath the pleasant sky,
And moments fall into place so softly.
When fingers twine and twist and seek companions
That's when green grass is underfoot.

Take me away o beautiful shaded tree.
Let's run and upset the heavy sidewalk.
Crush it from below and lightly step above.
My footfalls are nothing to the earth.

When I root down and plant myself, though,
I have all the earth to support me.
When heavens fall and giants strike
I know the ground underneath is my rock.

Floating through eternal nothingness
This rock is even less than me.
I find strength nonetheless
In this green and glorious beauty.

Saturday, April 9, 2011


Sometimes it's hard to go on,
When no one thinks anything's wrong.
While festering wounds wait to scar,
And nothing seems very far,
You wait and hope for a clue,
Just give you the slightest damn what-to-do.

But things go up and back down,
Those little wounds stick around.
And you're left all alone,
Wanting to go home,
But the way you can't find
You start to feel blind
The words ring false
You can't feel the pulse
Faster and clear
The end so near
It won't go away

But maybe you can be reborn.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

April 6

You find me a rhythm,
You bring me a rhyme,
I turn you away,
To twist up my time.

At every new step,
Your way lights up clear,
I screw shut my eyes,
I'm blind when I'm here.

The answers you offer,
They seem to be true,
I won't let them in,
It's all I can do.

And when the morn comes,
My heart so asleep,
You've woken and gone,
Left nothing to reap.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

April 5

Straining against these bizarre twistings of self.
How do you describe this pull?
When you stretch?
And stretch.
Taut and still the days get more and more taut.
Settle in with me.
In a rut.
And I won't want to leave it.
I may want to stand, but it hurts so much more to do so.
I settle in.

Monday, April 4, 2011

April 4th, 2011

I'm not fucking around.
I'm not fucking around.

These wound through me.
Threads thinly spread over spaces and chasms and fine cracks.
It is crushing the bits.

Twisted round.
Around. FUCKING these chasms of knowing.
And feeling a tattered presence.
Spin into.

When is it heard?
Let the brain aerate.
Lightening in dizzying moments of freedom.
Wander into joy and heights of consciousness and watch my brain get vertigo.
Sheer breath.

Breathe through in darkness and leaden lips and eyes.
When the ecstasy exists, it follows me down into those moments of my closed eyes.
Fake it
IF EKL:fj;dkasj
that's what it always mean.s
when you look at me.
i can't see without knowing and knowing and fading further into these points of uncertainty felled as nothing but the air between my outstretched hands.
when his words move my lips and he asks me for joy. he asks for anything.

and I fall back into it.