Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Text + Visuals

Offer: Yes, I Accept




Driving by the overfilled stream on the way to work, I saw you. You were wearing the orange and blue striped shirt that is two sizes too big. Your faded black jeans were wet up to the knees. If we were kids I would have pushed you in the water. You'd get soaked and then you could blame it all on me. Your mom would ask me not to do that ever again because you catch colds so easily. I would say, "yes, of course, I'm really sorry." Then we would walk outside and sit on the driveway so you could dry off in the sun. I'd lay back and get little bits of gravel in my hair and we'd close our eyes to see what shapes appear behind our eyelids. We'd be good friends. Easy. It doesn't work that way anymore, though. I didn't stop the car, I kept driving by. The image is still in my mind. I'm home now. I should have stopped and pushed you. Maybe I've just lost my nerve.

What if I had pulled over and gotten out of the car? Maybe you would look away after seeing me and pretend that I wasn't coming up behind you. The noise of my sneakers crunching leaves and branches brushing my jeans would keep your face locked on the water. When I was close enough, I would touch your sleeve with my hand making sure to only disrupt the fabric. I've never touched you before.

For my benefit I reserve your reactions to be plain and dry. I would accept anything from you. I've always known that I am one word away from being told to fuck off. Your reaction is not for me, it is for you. So you can feel whole, not alone. You had to try. But after you turn around and show me your face, down on the bank of the stream, I would push you in. I believe this act is larger than I ever imagined. Whatever brought my eyes down to the stream today is more than I can fight off. Whatever brought your feet into that stream is telling me that you are with me. That's all I need to know.




Oh Shit


we're the same thing.
i never even thought of that.
too scared to draw the eyes.




This One



claim it

thank you




Hybrid






Welcomed Frustration




so actually...how
do we
put

up with this?
basic human
wanting

has been disabled
after all...
shame.

see,
there is
room for more.



Picking up the Comments


you've become a real woman
thanks
you're hair is long
it's dead
it looks nice like that
did my hair look bad?
your hair's gotten long
it changed your face shape
what does that mean?
nice pants
yeah, check out my ass in these!
i look forward to seeing what you're going to wear now
ok
you have cute stuff
now i wear it
you don't have to work
i still work
i hate you
that's a compliment coming from you
where's little mousy?
heh...
wow, your hair's gotten long
uhh
cute shoes
i like shoes
with animals it's defensiveness
yeah, i didn't feel anything




It's me


I may be too tired for this.

Too ineffectual to redeem my spot.

Just look, really try. for me. Because I hate this shit. Apologizing is like groveling.

Why can't you just meet me half way?

Must you always make me feel ridiculous?





It's not you, of course.






reaching


i'm
without even
a game. cut

off.
my own
doing. now what.






South


Where did the beauty go? Did time forget to grab its hand? Under that floor. Asleep for years now. It's not peeking anymore. I need to catch up with it. Sprint for it. Down south. Where the sun warms it to speed and the water cools it to stay.






And


Happy man or
old dying
man






Lower


missing lives
why do you come back?
intruders






This Day


The light reflections
make it better.


So young.
So China Doll.






At Work

1.

They're just trees, evergreen trees. They make a funny picture when you
look through the needles to the other side. I got stuck in one at my
grandma's house. I could climb high, but never get down.

2.

We made love in a shallow stream. The current submitted to our
disruption. Laughing, it said, "why not view the fish from above?"

3.

Stuck Shoe
The siren snarled it's way to my mother. Kate's bike flashed sun rays
in children's eyes. We didn't have cell phones in those days.

4.

I'm not a poet or a painter, just a simple glow, a flash. You'll
remember me as being temporary. I smile, turn my head away from you and
I'm gone.

5.

The copier sounds like a Gerbil today.

6.

Distaste for,
"what now?"
Distaste for that bit underneath which sticks. To the ribs. Scraping,
even with a chisel, it won't be unstuck.

7.

Where am I?
Right here.
Typing at my keyboard.






Trecero

where does my smoke go when I exhale
and why do you always know what will
make me smile? The grievance I have
with my Grandfather is inside of me.
Unreality then harshness. Brutal.
My honesty cuts through. Abstract.
Relief of senses and intimacy.
We have an immature relationship.
Just telling you about me,
I am tearing myself apart. You
should be asking me. It's all
in my mind. I am mad. What is
your real name and why do I know
you so well? Don't you want to
know? Why won't you let me tell
you? Just look at me and ask.
Always caught between myself.
Which should I be right now?
Eyes change dark to flourescent
every day. Every day, Every day.
Singularity, clarity, few.
You know there is no influencer
now? I threw it in the trash.
Folded in two. Like midnight
they came and went. Illuminated
and space. Onto your ciggarrettes.
Lost at darkness, not. Better
able to see with the eyes open.
Your floating, peeping in, I like.
Would love to see you more. You
looked small today, shocked. I
could kiss you. Would kiss you.
Want to. None better time than
in spirit. But not again, this
mix of real. Which one is it?
Romanced by something I can't
understand. Now that interference
is immaterial. Shouting, louder.
Me, on me, myself, who now?
Getting there. Paint a picture.

















Minimal Overlap



-GO
HOME
IN
-E













Maybe I can only write when you're around...


My new wool sweater is chafing my neck right now. I'm creating a barrier with my hand. Holding my shoulder and examining my pointy bones with my pinky. We're not made of much- mostly air and water. What's that flow I feel blocked? You're not around. I'm empty.







so close


_____________________________________________________________________________________
___________________________
i bleed this you know i plaster my innerds on this canvas not for you for my survival terrible fantastic pressure is building what happens when we feed from the same vein clear the same be honest not yet there is still something in the air above waiting for another strike of artifice








Spoonmanpissant



I don't like the way your spoon is facing me.
Please turn it around.

"jolly pop, jam."

Learn the words please,
if you'll address me again.

"Words are no good here"

Well, where are we?

"We are where you are"

[the pencils are talking to me. my chalk is crackling. I have more pimples]

ochre, the color of the day
I'd rather smush them all together.

What's with the garden equipment?

"they are garages."

You don't get to have a shadow when you
have no clothes on.








nowords



"I can't USE my words this time. And I already messed it up."

trojan downing hours
sleep time. bridge. mail's here.
pathway, shrubbery, pond ache
distant, shelling _______.






A veces, este chica este muy loca


I want to fuck the world and eat cheesecake until I puke. Discover the inner body -go tubing, naked, inside the veins of a dear friend. Scream until my throat is bloody and punch trees or throw rocks into the ocean. Miss the pipe and kill a fish (sorry fishie). I hate you, everybody. I never had tantrums, I was a perfect little kid. (Until I was nine) I want to run, fly to Paris...meet Frenchies and pretend I come from England. I only want to speak Spanish. I want to tell this life's story and every other life's story to everyone. I want you to know how I feel all the time. I only want to be called -supercilious. I don't want to go back to work. I don't want to wake up. I don't want to be anything but me all the time and everywhere I go. And sometimes I can't figure out who that is because it is always changing.

synopsis: I cannot relax until you know it all.

para mas detalles escribes a raquelle - lo siento, hago una chiste, pero soy realmente fucking tuercas!








Astrally Speaking


That was not love - the line of violence, you wouldn't kiss me. Against the living room wall, I could see the blue and white pattern of the couch cover. The little one trying to speak, but lacking the vocabulary of what he was witnessing. Dusk indoors, saliva glistening on my shoulder. It excited me, but not enough. There was an absence too great to pretend I would ever do it again.








Sunk



I'd rather sink down deep
than
show you my dinosaur scales







I don't want to go to sleep yet



It could have been a hat, but it looked like she had green hair.
Listened to some good advice over and over and over.
Made some funny noises while dancing to the stove.
Grapefruit body wash put aside for the mud soap.
Cleaned the chalk dust from the kitchen table.
Drank some arnica flower essence in water.
Turned myself on once buying a bra.
My collar bone really freaks me out.
I was definitely a man before.
Grey's anatomy is on tv.
Not tired, yet.
Wet hair.
Shhh.








Universe













I am the universe
You are my held out hand








Look into my eyes
And tell me we have never loved







Peeking



I'm peeking out from behind the clouds. Are you there?
I see you, but do you know who you are?
I found out alone and still there I sleep.
Waiting for the understanding
In which I keep.








Translating for the Blue One








Destination


"Nice map."











"Where does it go?"








"Let's find out."






"Ahh,
to your mountain."







Residue


Wash yourself. You
smell like
me.








9.6.08



Soak you up
I could,
yeah








In Observance



Ignore the relevant.
Stick with
fluff.