But it’s got that refain.We’ve got to run, love.But.Beat to beat.Repeat. That record skip smile,those interstellar gazes,that tilted lilt eating its way through memories. and those flood-waters are comin’that levy’s cracked through and through,and storms drip rivulets down car windows,tires kicking up mist in the river-swells… the swell,the swell,the want to want to want… and …
Post Type Archives: Poems
Untitled #622 (2014)
and is the rondo gettin’ old,or is it that ostinato theme? ‘cause, love, I can’t get it out of my head,that echo kanon,the antiphon we know so, so well,but sung lonesome,a hip-slung arietta. but it’s got that refrain,We’ve got to run, love.But.Beat to beat.Repeat.
Untitled #621 (2014)
But.Beat to beat.Repeat. Twinkled twilight trickles its tessitura,and it’s probably a sign, that it happened like it did,and if it’s the too late when I’ve got that want to want to want,then the i to the I’s been too long;the slide-rule’s let me down. and that gut-drop slip,that tipping point,this, this is the turn,and storms …
Untitled #620 (2014)
Beat to beat.Repeat. For all, for all that,Home ain’t but four walls ‘n a door,the rest, the rest is shared.I still got my shit in boxes,but they’re mine.I still sleep on the floor,but it’s mine. And there’s that death in the family,and i didn’t believe, I didn’t believe.but i believe, and I know, and i …
Untitled #619 (2014)
Repeat.For those just joining us, I will repeat.Repeat. I can. and storms drip rivulets down car windows,tires kicking up mist in the river-swells. Swells of rage billow at the thought of you.And here we are, me writin’ about you,a grace reserved for those I’ve, or would like to fuck,or lacking that, family.You ain’t any of …
Untitled #618 (2014)
i is a young man looking out the window,wondering why his wrists don’t yet have spider-line scars tracking his progress,for all the, for all the words unsaid,as snow-capped mountains swell from the horizon,as hip-deep snow swallows him in the white,and he stops, for a moment,before deciding to come up. I is a man, …
Untitled #616 (2014)
I should, I should have called the bank today,but also, your hair is beautiful today,it was yesterday too,but I can tell you put a great deal of effort into it today,and that–that deserves something. I dunno.I should have called the bank today. Maybe it’s the death in the family.Maybe it’s the rage I’ve got on …
Untitled #613 (2014)
“There are certain promises…” “There are certain tastes…” “There are things I…” “I’m not going to… anymore…” there are words I can’t make myself complete,but there are certain promises I will never break,though they are only to myself. That’s hope for what I’m about to do.
Untitled #612 (2014)
I don’t believe I know you,but hey,that doesn’t stop love.It should,it doesn’t.
Untitled #611 (2014)
sometimes depression means jack shit.sometimes you just… stop.you drink and you smoke and you get high,and you, you work and you pretend it’s all good,but it’s not,and you make secret plans with yourself for when it’s over.And you tell no one. Because you don’t want people to ask how you are.You just want to be…depressed.Self-actualizing.
