January 31, 2007

you are
no, i am
losing it

i hum sad songs
to make myself 
feel better.

according to the Upanishads,
“since there is no real
difference between slayer
and slain, one should
not worry 
too much about the necessity
of killing
or being killed”

i am not sure how you justify that.

my friend told me that
he doesn’t believe in
love, and
i don’t know how
to live like that.
i said,
if you had been 
in love,
you would believe
but then,
he doesn’t believe in

i wish that i had
done this, or 
maybe just that it hadn’t happened
this way.

my lips taste like blood
(they are too chapped)
i will be in
in five days, i will
i don’t know.

sometimes i lose my train of thought.

talk to me, again, please.


graduation day

January 31, 2007

driving slowly,
watching the headlights in the rain.
funny, how things change.
think of the good times,
wishing you were still with me
the way it used to be –
graduation day.

watching the stars fall,
a million dreams have all gone bad –
think of all we had.
i knew it all then;
i thought you loved me, i was wrong –
life goes on.
graduation day.
oh, graduation day.

thinking of a time when everything was right;
thinking of a time of only you and i.
makes me sorry that it had to end that way –
learned my lesson now, there’s nothing left to say.
graduation day
oh, graduation day.

(Chris Isaak)

le disko

January 30, 2007

new interpretations
of things i thought i understood

(so what’s it gonna take,
silver shadow believer?)

in retrospect

January 29, 2007

the light from the
stairwell, gilding
curls and angled lashes
the playful contrast
[pale skin and shadows]
the smooth brow
of a child
on the
verge of adulthood.
his eyes so black
(aren’t they blue?)
hands cold
and safe.

there is soft
jazz on 88.9 FM
i will wear
suede gloves
and glide downtown
glancing back,
the view in my 
rearview mirror
must be, i think,
a glimpse of what’s below
or what’s between
or what’s above
or what’s anywhere, really,
when i’m feeling all right.


January 28, 2007

tangled in
dark marks on skin,
not sure
to begin

all the world’s a stage

January 26, 2007

i’m more than a little nervous about the show tonight.

river roads

January 26, 2007

there is a
you are stopped
at an
intersection in the
of the night
a tight pull across
your throat, a twist
your chest.  
the stoplights flash
after 11:00, flickering like
firelight through the windshield.
the streets are empty;
sound except for your
the car breathing
stoplights – breathing.
(it is almost snowing)
sometimes i think
if i were to
drive, and keep
i couldn’t drive anymore –
would i be?
the gas light is on;
i go
home instead,
as per usual.

maybe somewhere, the road
ends.  i really think
it becomes a 
river, full of icy dark
blue-black cold
a lingering
touch of humanity, a scar from
before.  if i could find
the end, it would flow beneath my car
between my fingers, over
my face.  through yesterday
past tomorrow.

restless ravings

January 25, 2007

take me out tonight

drinking sweet Riesling
in a Michelob glass,
smoking clove cigarettes
too fast
too soon

pinching myself
to see if this
is real.

john wayne gacy, jr.

January 25, 2007

his father was a drinker
and his mother cried in bed
folding John Wayne’s t-shirts
when the swingset hit his head.
the neighbors, they adored him
for his humor and his conversation.
look underneath the house there –
find the few living things
rotting fast in their sleep of the dead.
twenty-seven people!
even more, they were boys
with their cars, summer jobs,
oh my God!

are you one of them?

he dressed up like a clown for them
with his face paint white and red.
and on his best behavior,
in a dark room, on the bed, 
he kissed them all.
he’d kill ten thousand people
wiht a slight of his hand.
running far, running fast 
to the dead!
he took off all their clothes for them
he put a cloth on their lips –
quiet hands, quiet kiss
on the mouth.

and in my best behavior,
i am really just like him.
look beneath the floorboards
for the secrets i have hid.

(Sufjan Stevens)

reflections for Erin

January 23, 2007

self-absorption is
the key
to who
am i

(i am afraid of being left alone)
angry and
but mostly just

pencils and papers and prima donnas

there is 
love inside
a polaroid camera

frozen fingers
dusty wooden Buddhas

making lists of 
i am
i don’t
i feel
i think
i want

tomorrow feels very far
sometimes i reach
too far

i love you too much
to let this
fall apart
i am terrified of
seeing you
(this is different
from anything
else –
this is
more important)