e.e. cummings

April 30, 2007

l (a
    l
    e
    a
    fa
    lls)
one
l
iness

smeared black ink… your palms are sweaty
and i’m barely listening to last demands;
i’m staring at the asphalt wondering what’s buried underneath where i am.

i’ll wear my badge… a vinyl sticker with big block letters adherent to my chest
that tells your new friends i am a visitor here.
i am not permanent,
and the only thing keeping me dry is where i am.

you seem so out of context in this gaudy apartment complex,
a stranger with your door key explaining that i am just visiting
and i am finally seeing why i was the one worth leaving –
why i was the one worth leaving.

D.C. sleeps alone tonight.

you seem so out of context in this gaudy apartment complex,
a stranger with your door key explaining that i am just visiting
and i am finally seeing why i was the one worth leaving –
why i was the one worth leaving.
the district sleeps alone tonight after the bars turn out their lights
and send the autos swerving into the loneliest evening,
and i am finally seeing why i was the one worth leaving –
why i was the one worth leaving
why i was the one worth leaving
why i was the one worth leaving
why i was the one worth leaving.

(The Postal Service)

on the radio

April 29, 2007

this is how it works –
it feels a little worse
than when we drove our hearse
right through that screaming crowd
while laughing up a storm
until we were just bone,
until it got so warm
that none of us could sleep
and all the styrofoam
began to melt away.
we tried to find some words
to aid in the decay
but none of them were home
inside their catacomb.
a million ancient bees
began to sting our knees
while we were on our knees
praying that disease
would leave the ones we love
and never come again.

on the radio,
we heard November Rain
that solo’s really long,
but it’s a pretty song.
we listened to it twice
’cause the DJ was asleep.

this is how it works –
you’re young until you’re not
you love until you don’t
you try until you can’t
you laugh until you cry
you cry until you laugh
and everyone must breathe
until their dying breath.

no, this is how it works –
you peer inside yourself;
you take the things you like
and try to love the things you took,
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into some – 
someone else’s heart,
pumping someone else’s blood
and walking arm in arm,
you hope it don’t get harmed
but even if it does,
you’ll just do it all again.

and on the radio,
you hear November Rain
that solo’s awful long,
but it’s a good refrain.
you listen to it twice
’cause the DJ is asleep
on the radio
(oh oh oh)
on the radio
on the radio – uh oh
on the radio – uh oh
on the radio – uh oh
on the radio

(Regina Spektor)

another sunday morning

April 29, 2007

waking up in the
morning, something is not
quite right.
the sunlight is just as bright
as it ever was
but i am one day older
waves cresting and
crashing, remembering
yesterday
not wanting to rewind,
no, i am done with you
this is too many times
you’ve done this
too many questions
i have not answered.
i want to move on
forward
until i am somewhere new.

the end (reprise)

April 28, 2007

i knew as soon as
i saw you in the door
things had changed
and i could have guessed this
would happen,
i saw it
coming
a million
(or maybe just
a few thousand
[the distance to
Paris, you know])
miles away
i wish i could fly that far
most of the time
and in the end,
i don’t know exactly why
the way the 
light shines on Erin’s face
and we’re throwing
letters across the floor, our hands
stretching out, throwing away
letting go
i am so so so tired
but things keep wanting
to break, i keep wanting to
run against the wind
i wanted to mean enough to
you
just enough that
you could come home
and i would not be different.

i do this every time,
it seems like i might —

well, a second chance is all you get.
(don’t touch me ever again)

panicky

April 27, 2007

on nights like tonight, when things press in and i’m swimming for the surface of the streelights, i wish that you were here.  i don’t even know you and i want you to be here with me, because i somehow think that maybe you’d have something to say that could change something, that could rearrange the world at least for a little while and your unicorns and birds and old dogs and magic fires.  sometimes i think that if i could step into your world then maybe my world wouldn’t matter so much and all of the things that i struggle with might mean a little less.  

i don’t know what i mean by that.  i don’t think it really matters.  all i can think about right now is that i don’t know where i’m going or what i want to do, i don’t know about him and i don’t know about me and i don’t know about my life and today is one of those days where I WANT TO KNOW.

and maybe if i go lie down beside a streetlamp or maybe sit beside the stream in the gutter, i will clear my mind at least for a little while and it will be all right.

jittery

April 27, 2007

why do you do
what you do?
questioning the reasons
huffing and puffing and blowing
myself down.
driving faster than is 
strictly necessary,
smoking camel ultra lights
(the pack is still unopened,
i want to smoke until
my hands
shake)
playing game after game
after game
how many hits can i take?
how many collapses?
how many bruises?
how many beatings?
how many how many
how many times can 
i let this happen to me
?
staying up later
later later
waiting until the edge
is approaching
just to see if 
maybe someday,
i’ll jump.

dimensional

April 26, 2007

aren’t you home yet?

study time

April 25, 2007

STOP PRETENDING
sometimes whispers at 
the back of my neck
and fingertips
when waking up,
it is raining outside
smoky windowpanes

i never smoked those cigarettes,
there wasn’t enough time
or courage 
to stand outside and blow
rings at the moon
i fell asleep with the
lights on
instead and the sounds of
the cars on the pavement
physics books – converging and diverging
lenses to look at the world.

IT ISN’T ENOUGH
and knowing that, i try
to be content with what
i have not lost
WHAT CAN YOU DO?

everything, i —

better together

April 24, 2007

there’s no combination of words
i could put on the back of a postcard –
no song i could sing
but i can try for your heart
our dreams, and they are made out of real things,
like a, shoebox of photographs
with sepiatone loving.
love is the answer,
at least for most of the questions in my heart
like why are we here? and where do we go?
and how come we’re so hard?
it’s not always easy and
sometimes life can be deceiving –
i’ll tell you one thing: it’s always better when we’re together.

mmm it’s always better when we’re together
look at the stars when we’re together
it’s always better when we’re together
yeah, it’s always better when we’re together.

and all of these moments
just might find there way into my dreams tonight,
but i know that they’ll be gone
when the morning light sings
and brings new things.
but tomorrow night you’ll see
that they’ll be gone too –
too many things i have to do.
but if all of these dreams might find their way
into my day-to-day scene,
i’ll be under the impression
i was somewhere in between
with only two,
just me and you.
not so many things we got to do
or places we got to be –
we’ll sit beneath the mango tree.

it’s always better when we’re together
somewhere in between together,
it’s always better when we’re together
yeah, it’s always better when we’re together.

mmm mmm mmm
i believe in memories –
they look so, so pretty when i sleep
hey now, and when i wake up,
you look so pretty sleeping next to me.
but there is no time,
and there is no song i could sing
and there is no combination of words i could say
but i will still tell you one thing –
we’re better together.

(Jack Johnson)