Thursday, October 30, 2008

eyes peer out from around the corner. fists pound on ceramic doors and you escape out the window.
a note taped to the icebox. containing a very important map. point A to objective B.
you didn't get far. in the smoke shop below the apartment. drinking the coffee meant for distinguishing cigarettes. that explains that addiction. this happens every tuesday. you hide to be seek-ed.

Friday, October 24, 2008

on the floor.
there are spiraled telephone cords. from a phone that never worked.
spiders. that were named after you.
leather. that wraps and locks.
brown paper bags and saddle shoes. from school girl memories.
rabbit fur. where there are no rabbits.
chili leaves. in the dead of winter.
and sense memory. of head to hardwood. flashes of light. and waking up to nothing.

and then you switched. to the other line. to speak to that opera singer. surrounded in brick walls. the electric line took your thoughts away.
standing and extra 4 inches high. dropping fur to the floor. exposing tattoos of desert snakes and paragraphs in french.
listening to letters. holding letters. hoarding letters. in the deep rabbit skinned pockets.
crushed as a result of hourly fists and anxiety.
'tell me i am next'.

Monday, October 13, 2008

10.2 hours until landing. 2 and 1/4 bottles of emergency wine left. 27 letters to be delivered by carrier pigeon.
wake up to the amazon river and 723 minutes later count arctic stars. recording them on page 13 of a travel journal abandoned 12 pages ago. finish the 1 book brought along for the 22nd time.
10 hours until landing. wonder if she will remember.

outline every crease of skin. draw internal bones externally. because you want that exoskeleton.
don't be jealous of beetles.
as silent sound waves pulse through white cords filling heads with distractions. wings form under rib cocoons. snap bones. break skin. dry out. learn to fly.
burn up. fall down.
erase the outlines.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

"fuck fate"
he said. then immediately went back to appraising old furniture.
too obvious. but book dedications and lyric renditions mean too much. walking over bridges with skipping records in the background.
"it's too obvious"
she wrote. and slowly went back to staring at the ceiling.
not obvious enough. but sideway glances and jars filled with dead baby sharks. just explain everything. sailing under bridges with whales and old broken bottles.
it escaped through the eyes. crawling out and back into skin. and out again. moving like an old black and white movie on the surface of arms and shoulders. down ribcages and through scars and around bruises.
but that's not really what we're talking about.
that was thread wrapped around organs. switch blades used to remove old teeth. and just the general consensus. that. once you use it up. it's old. no good. ready to be turned into glue.
glue that fixes ripped organs. and. puts back old teeth.
fingers. fin.gers. f.i.n.g.e.r.s.
tapping with the sound and frequency of some mechanical chain assembly line. metallically sliding. covered in oil. razor. sharp.
each upcoming strikes of letters and marks and punctuation. each electronic letter. each industrial story book sentence.
rusts the bones. makes the heart beat one last time. fills the lungs with more smoke.
much more damage. done. than progress. created.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

formaldehyde in the medicine cabinet. preserving memories and memorabilia.
that matchbook from last february. the hair from two years ago. the gravel from your street.
most importantly the dreams. you wake up with. and also feathers for when you fly away.
thus creating an apartment that smells like dead frogs and a person who never forgets.

Monday, October 6, 2008


bones. snapping bones. snapping toe bones. that is why you don't kick the furniture.
bruising. melting. ripping skin. and internally pushing out the external cartilage.
spinning around in a kitchen littered with. fur. leather gloves. bloody lace. happy dogs and insurgent mason jars.
there is 92% by volume something. or. other. the sweet southern tea that happens to be flammable and sterilizing.
and 4 sets of eyes all wanting to say something. 4 sets of eyelids covering over the thought.
there is 53 degrees left.
take that whichever way you choose.