there is no wonder in being safe

filled into a calm surface.

living a burnished trace of life on 

the gilt framed mirror of you.

thinking of reasons to sporadically

emit words of affection

choosing think emptily

there was the unseen beginning of

joy transitioning to existence

and we are humbled by circumstance

to live upon the structure of life

rather than in it.

should i urge contrary action to

unwilling legs, body and brain already 

on the path to the end….

sometimes the common air transmutes then connects

our panic, hope, even love

a transient reality that lives outside 

the me house that others visit. 

I have the hardest time explaining

what all we mean, unconsciously, to each

other and ourselves

the shared connections in the spidery

strands of data sent and received in

air between here and where you are

a momentary glimpse of

words that don’t exist

except in neurotransmitters and optic nerves

and a thought sent out from me to you

still we remain apart

there was a moment of supposed meaning

between your eyes and mine

and so it turns out that the wine accidentally

gives us intentions.

and as i reached our shared understanding

saw you stand aside and it was my eyes

that were betrayers.

we spoke phone words, mobile

and angry

in the end i no longer was a text target

but i knew that going into this

your hair is much too beautiful to be seen with me

as i am taller and older 

than i seem

but i am thankful for my sunny disposition

it has provided me with several jobs

and a warm place to drink.

i hang my tshirt on the door

forgetting that it does not blend with the furniture

absently shouting obscenities

at no one, really, because who can keep track?

the bathroom door clicks shut on another

two hours of soaking away the thoughts.

blurry underwater vision of social blunders

now associated with my name and face

i never claimed to be adept at this

and that has been affirmed often.

i look at my empty hand and remember

yours near it - another missed chance

your hands are now warmed by someone else’s gloves.

and on those cold days when my fingers 

turn blue with embarrassment,

thinking: what made them grasp so 

blindly when it was clear

there is more sense to grip a pole.

it gives support.  

The quality of the driving is inversely proportional to the size of the Cadillac

lalalindsay:

She Is by Sufjan Stevens

All. Weekend. Long.

(via)

The problem with experience sometimes is that it’s too easy to rely on it.  Don’t be afraid to look at something with new eyes and learn

there is dust on your face and arms

white cheeks, the makeup of debris

needy eyes sunlight focused

but dazed distant amidst fallen walls

and heaped home wreckage

that wishes to keep you

who knows which others lie silent & below

as arms strain to reach

you remain impassive

numb to words that cannot comfort

amidst unyielding destruction

outside and within
—-
these still forms once

holding life’s essence

will no longer bring good news

filling motionless streets

rising slightly as wheels

find traction indifferent

to substrate that

yields and softens the road needlessly

troubled by the lack of greater purpose

berefit these people

once proud sad resolute resigned

will not know the hope of dreams
—-
lone hand raised, a man

rising as though from sleep

light-framed his rubble bed cradling another

grimacing in pain or death

there is enough wailing

and we are happy to comfort

the sadly seen distant suffering

more immediate somehow

than charity needed here

by wandering dirty men

wearing our faces and reeking

of piss
—-
more noble to be the devastated

than aimless poor amidst plenty

compassion-stripping contrast

and really we have no time for this

my anger lives at your face peering up

it has wronged me

and i long to see it gone

so no empathy escapes unexpectedly

we all deserve to be killed

by a large unanticipated

tsunami of self-hate

a temblor to wipe things clean

—-

and start again.

three moments sweet refrain

sudden melancholy reigns

vexing a melody I despair

dubious success births fear

and much of what I see in you

a wicked judgement plainly view

dies this hope that we might bind

two converged in mind sublime

and your desires seem not mine own

but strangely loosed to any is sown

which reconciles to this single soul

solitary steps to walk unbowed

as gaily costumed friends take leave

together my singularity unrelieved

hoped for but missed the one embrace

your lovely smile promised in haste

that would have stilled this desperate ache

a weary effort now vainly made

for there was no one of two between us played

as you turn to speak again

one moment kindred, the next to friend

but this my eager mind before betrayed

and smiling outward inward hopes now slain

for only now must I return

to the lonely place I’ve earned

no more to venture lest I gain

a reason to embrace new pain

and relegate this vision, your face

within this deeply empty space

where once with hope did I pursue

the treasured memory of you

Great intuition is important but it can sometimes convince you that you know something about something that you really know nothing about.

loading browsing pages

you suddenly stare at me

older now and mouth creases

but it suits

like your life always seemed to just fit

in a way that mine didn’t

congruent with your dimensions

———-

smiling brown hair in fashionable style

flowered urbane dress

red lipstick brightened and your eyes

family just visible, but not enough to know them

the sun’s late afternoon glow turns the wall a dried flower yellow

it seems you are just speaking

mouth open to a witty line at the photographer

———-

i follow you sometimes in mind

idyllic life just an abstraction

for ones who are not you

imagining new deck chairs

the smell of suburban grilling

laughing drinks near water and familial friends

content rainstorms watering your grass

———-

you said that there was no devil

on earth once and I knew that

only applied to you

the reason it ended before the beginning

a dream that is best imagined not lived

like a newborn child, precious but needy

i could never afford to feed it

———-

hand pause, no connection

wondering, the idea of you

a counterpoint that needs to be

spoken more than actual awkward words

and your life is not empty without me

better that you remember what could have been

than what exists

———-

Snow has somehow crept into the conversation

From the light sprinkling of sarcasm

in the last few statements

made with jutting chin

a wordstorm blankets me

exhalations accompanying

angry spittle-flecks

head buffet

your breath makes me wish for cover

dragon-like steam and sulfur

But then every conversation in the

last two decades has been this way

dogma replacing fact

you are so certain

of things, and mostly

what you feel in the name

of rationality

that somehow I cannot inject reason

should have been the first alarm

but it is too late

Listening with mock

attention to each

lovingly selected admonition

about the state of things

going counter to your

best parochial view

I guess progress won’t stop

only because we muddle along

against opposition

who also claims right

———-

Read More

my cube seems smaller, then I remember that forty years ago all rooms were small cubes

and no one really sat in them or did anything rather they went out and drank whiskey

little thinking time back then; and surprise now its the same

so many ways to read the same story

like a gnome wrote it all and we are all cursed to syndicate

but such hexes don’t exist except in reality

since i’m not restrained by rope/

_______

the small space won’t fit anyone else

and that is reason enough to be alone here

with the comfort of a glowing screen and whirring drives

the visible slap of leaves on bending trees

they must be laughing at the futility of breaking a window

even in my mind

comically rushing to staunch the inward flow of wind/

_______

but i’m distracted now, with thoughts of attractive couples

walking on sunset beaches with glasses of mind-numbing drink

and resort-wear

too bad that golfing has no appeal

swinging clubs only for those who have time to waste

but the shorts are worn by admirably confident pairs

and sometimes I wish I could be one of them/

_______

Plaid doesn’t fit the demeanor of a introvert

relegated to keeping “productive time”

I could use a cigarette right about now

imagine the fragrant smoke curling from my lip

to generate countless microscopic tumors

according to the surgeon general

even vice loses its comfort/

_______

this place is my own

one of the few things with a label

meant only for me

but that sounds a little pathetic, even for a cog

and i think mind-freeing thoughts of vanquish

until the imagined aroma of a sweet hamburger

invades, but that too is blissful/

_______

on the anniversary of my father’s passing, october 26, 2005

_______

we are all waiting to die

my feet begin to feel numb

no one is thinking of me

fading here

_______

sunlight-filled voices outside

but not visible

dreamy semi consciousness

morphine enhanced to pleasantry

_______

can’t smell myself

but see noses wrinkle

as they enter

the sick zone

_______

piss and spit and sleep

worn sheets

carpet needs vacuuming

by someone

_______

trivialities

disconnecting me

from awareness

simple slipping blackness

_______

and cold ground to

greet the ashes

i’m thinking flowers

and faces clustered above

_______

losing me is not so sudden

anticipated

no one expects the expected

infant to adult

_______

if we last that long

everything withers eventually

and blood accompanies some of it

but not here

_______

as afternoon passes

and dusk nears

a final sigh

and i am clear

Words twisting among the crackling leaves, kick-scattered

scuffed brown shoes with laces like life segments hastily retied for company

visible scarring not fixed by knifework

repairs carefully made must be taken seriously

no more uncomfortable throat clearing declarations, please

dinner is here and im salivating already

everyone is staring at it and really, we honor the food with dead silence

QOD: Do people take up shooting because they are good at it or just violent?

I asked someone one day, remembering it was me

cleaning up the murdered relationship remains

but no one thinks anymore about such banalties

cnn is on and there’s another bombing or something

really engrossing i think and a much better way to pass a thursday than work

so little to say, so many ways to say it

Life is about recognizing the small moments when you can make a big difference and acting decisively.

We are entering a content-driven world, where the mechanism of communicating that content is less and less relevant.