Incoming

Seems unromantic to journal online... at least the unpublished kind. Soft kisses, near misses, ugly dreams, high hopes-- buzzing away in some dry, stuffy, fluorescent-lit linoleum 0101101001011100 purgatory until you log back on. What if you forget your password? If you lost an analog journal, at least some unsuspecting stranger could find it underneath a table at a coffee shop and spend an hour or two secretly commiserating, then wondering for the rest of their lives if they will ever meet you or if they already know you or what they would say if they did ever meet you. Or at least a loved one could find it on your bedside table after your untimely rock climbing death and sob loudly while poring over your identity struggles and inability to find a proper bathroom rug to match that sensible mauve shower curtain.

There's a redwood tree in California that I've never seen, yet there it rests--waiting patiently for me to run my hands along its deep ridges and mossy scabs. My clothes hang suspended in the closet, uncaring if I wear them. There is a dress that was once worn by a woman who is dead. I never knew her but her niece dropped off eight trash bags of clothes at the Goodwill donation center three years ago. I paid $6.99 for it. That's a pretty good deal.

My amygdala is sleeping. It has grown weary of connecting place and time and purpose and custom. I don't blame it. I hope I am not forced to find a wormhole. I hear the feedback is a killer.

I-27

I want to be a highway when I die
Not in the next life
But in the one you live now
My bones, white washed by sun
Massaged by pick-up trucks
Will strong and steady hold you up
And guide you on your way
I want to be a highway when I die

The Past Is In Our Presence

I

Nostalgia rests in dusty places,

Patient

Slow

Unwavered.

It faithfully waits for years--

a lifetime--

For you to make a move.

II 

If we are two separate people,

Save little DNA,

How do I see your face in mine

More every passing day?

Down to Business

I'm coming to terms with my villainess

In a contractual agreement that specifically lists

The times and places she may rear her head

And show her teeth and beg to be fed

And stare me down with those puppy dog pupils

And trap me in her endless loopholes.

"You shall stay in your chamber on Sunday and Saturday;

I shall let you commence on Tuesday and Monday.

Make room in the bed when you hear my call;

We shall stay in all day and watch the rain fall."

Faithful Rider

Twice a day for thirteen years
No skip, no shirk, no sigh
7:35 and 5:05 repeating
Rusty crusty toothy grill
Squeaking squealing round and round
It chews her up and spits her out
While judgments drive on by

Digging Deep

my dreams like dogs sniff out fertile ground
and dig up the earth to fill this gap
they caught the scent of your sweet smelling breath
on the canned food aisle
not yellow and bright like a first corn harvest
but blue and cold like the moon

just a one-time thing
that just happened
inert
not propelling with meaning
adults make choices
to control the world around them
but are inept to control the world within them

as sure as early spring
calls back the leaves too quickly
I wrapped you up like a stubbled baby
in my arms, displaced from real life
in the wholehearted moment
for fear of impending storms
I burrowed in the lie

Hollywood

The sidewalk name drops
The lives we collect
One glossy page and
Camera frame at
a time; they carry on,
Dancing With the Stars,
Flickering night walls
From some far away,
Removable state.
Memorabilialand:
The purest figment
Of the collective
Imagination.

No Rest

An ache of 27 years
Is twisting through the night
And I can't change the way I am
To make it all all right
And If I knew what's good for you
I'd have done it all my life
Instead I'll twist on through this sleepless night

A mansion of a thousand doors
That lead from room to room
No hallways and no photographs
They all lead back to you
If I could find my way outside
My real life could resume
Instead I'm stuck between the black and blue

Love: A Sticky Subject

Love is confusing. 


Agape
Pie
It's so simple
Not complicated at all
It never says goodbye
Or anything at all

Philia
A slice of pie can pack a punch
And ruin even a large man's lunch
And though it won't hug
Or smooch on your mug
You might find true love at first munch

Eros
I would simply be over-the-mooner
If I'd found your sweetness much sooner
No need to pretend
We are more than just friends
We can go to my place for a nooner

Apple

The archetypal apple wishes it could be
A tasty provider of nutrition
As it rightly ought to be
But carnal temptation, objects of affection
And falling not far from the tree
Is the reputation the apple was given
Before it was even a seed
So misunderstood it sits on the shelves
Scanning our eyes for beliefs
Longing to be just picked up and eaten
Without considering Adam and Eve

Don't Go In There

Flickers from the silver screen
Dance before me in seduction
Unfelt
Unreal
Their pain to me
Is but a star in the day
Removed like a scent
A flavor
A hint
Inert and amorphous at best
Stranger scenarios than I've ever seen
Stumbling blocks and stupid decisions
Appalling to the pious perspective
The virgin sensibility
Pressed into the seal of my story
Yet I loathe to look away
Even pantomime in private
And dream of things that cannot be
I yearn for the night all day
A degree removed from reality
A subversive creature breathes and grows
A beloved parasite
That leads me from light
Onto disgusting streets of freaks and worse
To be a fly on the wall is all I desire
Yet from my lying mouth
Well-rehearsed lines spill freely
And before I know which way is up
I'm falling fast and deep
Rubbing elbows with locals
And up to my knees
Stinging needles and scraping skin on sidewalks
Cracked beyond recognition
Until I wake
Sweat-stenched
Filth-wrenched
In satin sheets
Credits crawling up the wall

Vicarious

party animals

when I slinked into the party
I felt naughty eyes upon me
phosphorescent, burning through me
softening lips begging to kiss
in the corner in a whirlwind
we stared beams of adoration
and conjured spirits with our eyes
while every other soul turned cold
and floated away like ashes

Ants

A corpse in the sheets

Saltines at my side

White crumbs all around

The ants march on by

They heave and they hoist

Many times their size

And that's how I know

They're stronger than I

Where I got this photo.

Twins

I spy you from across the room
Those big bald heads
Like silver moons
So simple, vast, and open wide
While I, equipped with higher mind,
Spend muddled hours swatting flies
And dank ideas pass me by
Clogging up the river so
My beaver brain dams up the flow

But you two,
My inspiration,
Your story's not been told
The life you live
The love you give
Lives right behind your nose
And though, like me, you ache and grow
Simple pleasure is all you know
And you'd think it silly
To seek for much
Any further beyond your toes

Bittersweet

Many early mornings I had lain awake
In tasteful dreams
Of kneading and caressing, smooth and supple, as it were,
Luring me afoot well before God's hour
Down the dark and sparkly alleyway;
I'd stealthily shiver past shattered glass rivers
And bus stops disguised as bedrooms.
I'd nervously knock and wait for shuffling;
A groggy good morning or nothing
But quick, darty eyes full of what?
Shrug, shrug it off and back to the senses
Flooded with butter and other
Scents that hold on tightly and don't let go
Like your grandmother's last hug
Or an illicit lover's gaze.
Drawn in, I absorbed it all
Every last drop, straight to the heart
I lapped it up and begged for more,
But the maddening elixir
Grew more bitter every brew
And spurned me, red-eyed, flailing into frenzy
For some balancing flavor,
The one magical, smoothing, soothing
Addition or subtraction to turn it all back
Into the the bearable, presentable, enjoyable
Treat it would never be again.