“do you remember the night I told you
I’ve never seen anything more perfect
than snow falling in the glow of a street light
electricity bowing to nature
mind bowing to heartbeat
this is gonna hurt bowing to I love you
I still love you like moons love the planets they circle around
like children love recess bells
I still hear the sound of you
and think of playgrounds
where outcasts who stutter
beneath braces and bruises and acne
are finally learning that their rich handsome bullies
are never gonna grow up to be happy
I think of happy when I think of you

so wherever you are I hope you’re happy
I really do
I hope the stars are kissing your cheeks tonight
I hope you finally found a way to quit smoking
I hope your lungs are open and breathing your life
I hope there’s a kite in your hand
that’s flying all the way up to Orion
and you still got a thousand yards of string to let out
I hope you’re smiling
like god is pulling at the corners of your mouth
cause I might be naked and lonely
shaking branches for bones
but I’m still time zones away
from who I was the day before we met
you were the first mile
where my heart broke a sweat
and I wish you were here
I wish you’d never left
but mostly I wish you well
I wish you my very very best”

-Andrea Gibson (excerpt, Photograph)

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fly like paper

I have always been impressed with how you
wield your shrugs
your careful smiles
how your handshakes are always the right amount
of indifferent
I would have liked to see you
dancing oblivious
window-shades open
I would have liked to see you
drunk
you manifest unknowable
you doorless wall
all hard edges and
unfathomably
blank
eyes
I would have liked to see you unmasked
shaking your fist at god
feet bloodied from kicking mirrors
having finally reached the realization that
sometimes there just
isn’t enough apathy
to go around
trying to study. Whenever I’m writing a poem and it seems kind of boring I fix it by making it ridiculously melodramatic and I think maybe that is not the right way to go about things.  also, I will be buying my tickets to Korea at some point this week. kinda nervous. I have never really traveled without my parents and that is sad. 

wha BAM

jacked this from:  http://heathersday.tumblr.com/

half the time I get what I want I realize I don’t actually want it, and sometimes the grass is really just plastic and that’s why it looked so green from here.  time to chop up perspectives and bask in some new found naivety if I can conjure any up from today’s sun-drenched faux-cynicism.  Because I’m never cynical.  The naivety is sorta fake as well, and I guess most of this paragraph has been a parody or satire or well the obvious word would be “lies”.   vaguely content…

tonight…

another sun-soaked season fades away

http://nemanjaj.deviantart.com/art/fog-and-fishermans-334407940


The Fall

There was a man who found two leaves and came indoors holding them out saying to his parents that he was a tree.
To which they said then go into the yard and do not grow in the living-room as your roots may ruin the carpet.
He said I was fooling I am not a tree and he dropped his leaves.

But his parents said look it is fall.

-Russell Edson

I swear Russell Edson is one FABULOUSLY INSANE creature. love it.

Let us consider the farmer who makes his straw hat his
sweetheart; or the old woman who makes a floor lamp her son;
or the young woman who has set herself the task of scraping
her shadow off a wall….

Let us consider the old woman who wore smoked cows’
tongues for shoes and walked a meadow gathering cow chips
in her apron; or a mirror grown dark with age that was given
to a blind man who spent his nights looking into it, which
saddened his mother, that her son should be so lost in
vanity….

Let us consider the man who fried roses for his dinner,
whose kitchen smelled like a burning rose garden; or the man
who disguised himself as a moth and ate his overcoat, and for
dessert served himself a chilled fedora….” 

-Let us Consider
———-
Winter is coming.  (and I am quite clearly reduced to creating statements that no one can dispute)

I’m already trying to rid myself of expectations for the weekend.  
(it’s not working. my hopes are high, my fingers are crossed,
 please please please don’t disappoint me)