-
post script (on tea and allusions to bukowski)
he brings me cinnamon tea with sugar and a splash of milk retreats to his spot on the other loveseat in the other room where we can see each other through buddha’s face crafted out of fine wooden beads (half of them missing, but still the eyes are clear) we’re neither of us buddhist that’s…
-
dumb
it’s been a while since i’ve spoken, really. brief phrases uttered without feeling to the people walking through the great glass doors looking to me for guidance about things that i’ll forget in twenty seconds- you need me now without you i would starve there is a symbiotic contempt that keeps both parties smiling, fake…
-
The First Big Thing: Object Permanence.
It’s finally done. I won’t pretend you’ve been waiting forever for it, or that I worked forever on it, but you might like to read it anyway. It’s available directly from the publisher now, and in a few days, if you can wait that long [look at my ego, all puffed up… it’s all an…
-
not quite optimism: 4-21-12
quiet and the day needs to rest bright sun and clouds crept low against my skin made it breathe in life and joy and fear that i kept down and pushed away change is the centrifuge keeping me from breaking into particles that separate are unbearable and small. i can trust this i think. no…
-
Thinking Before Breakfast
I dislike the fact that loving one particular person, out of the millions you encounter, can change the way you look at almost everything else in the world. Not that I want to change that, not that I want to undo any of the things that have been done so far, not that I would…
-
Object Permanence
no sleep, and the dark tastes like yesterday [last night i dreamed of rushing through a small town in a raging thunderstorm on my way to get somewhere and there were women in the road, unmoving when i sighed and wished they’d hurry up one of them was struck by lightning and every time she…
-
Predictability
I tell him sometimes-you’re so predictable, and to someone who lives inside this armour of ambiguity, thrives on spontaneity, can’t wrap his head around making plans without plenty of time to plan to plan to make them, it might sound like an insult, but it’s not. There are a million things he does that aren’t…
-
Music and Words
I took this photo the other night, while beloved was draped across the bed, flat on his back, practicing. It was a quiet night, one of those where going out would screw everything up, and there wasn’t much to say besides the usual few words we exchange without thinking, almost out of habit, but not…
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
April Fox 