Thursday, February 24, 2011


A shiver of Hertz rings true to we the solitary boys. And to solitary (girls)? We don't know if we've never heard them, and if they are shy and won't let us hear them then the echoes of the brick and the oak as we tap will serve as their voices. If they ever sing to us, we won't know which songs are special but they will all be special. And if they are with us we must always love them because if they leave we will not know they have gone and even the taps will be empty, sometimes like the taste of the first morning after her space is October Country, chill, and unoccupied, and Heaven is suddenly just a bunch of assholes you've never met like Jacksonville, Seattle, Leon, Boston, the nerves in our backs dead and our shoulders heaving. This is why I would like to meet you, and you may kiss my nose and linger above, I will be sleeping I promise.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

A Familiar Astronomy

Chisel tired eyes who express how old this day has been brushing dust across the teeth. Bang bang on our daughters' birthdays ceasefire in July just bugs swimming in fire eating ebony-skinned firmament and you and me being common and sweet. Smiling just the way another warm body once did in the palm of tree trunk roots right before she kisses him unsurprisingly but expected in the only kind of way that will unfurl his fingers wanting only to touch. In conclusion there are ordinary ways to know the boredom of moist breath on your cheeks and he will love her for it.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Songs about nothing at all

What do we forget, oh what do we forget in refrains oh what songs we used to know. Trying to remember like ice in the vibrating numbness of a glass still not half empty and other noises who fill us to our brimming cheekbones. Parisian cafes stuffed with intrus tortillants wine glasses fast warm Italian rubber fast Italian suits parking attendants who think God how fucking sad are these who drive away from their time and they can only drive these cars with brevity before they are repulsed entirely and must step from the doors. But what of brevity, we could ask them. We are all brief and only you are moving without velocity. They will never answer but will hand the keys in the moments that are silent.

Sunday, February 13, 2011


What it is like to be bored of mirrors. It is like this, or that, it does not matter which snowstorm we choose. A footprint lasts so little time here, no use in movement, impossible in stillness. What it's like to shake from the nucleus.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Starfish out of water

And then one day it all ended and from then on it was hard to find a beginning.
And then we drank with our teeth clenched and blood on the edges of our lips like a leech so that's how we remember good times.
Cheers man what the fuck else to say. Cheers and happy birthday in our eyes to a star that's already dead a lot of times I think needing someone is that way. You're both looking but distance deafens telescopic noise and it takes all kinds of astronauts to be happy. We can be happy and you can have my oxygen and you can have my heartbeat and we don't need stars that are boring and old and dead before we even can know them by name.

Friday, February 11, 2011

So This is What Happened in the Car Today

There is too much heart disease spreading in the space between fingers on this street between these cars leaving home with haste and wanting only to hug warmth with roundness. It is a Friday and it is cold when I know that colors could eat every one of us and that this is what you mean to me.

Absence Makes the Heart

Ice ice is not as sad as it feels only the means to slow down and to creep down into a night like the heavy breathing from another pillow catching your cheek before it leaves again.