January 31, 2005
January 30, 2005
ring-a-ring
GOT HOLD OF BULFORD!!
MWAHAHAHA!!
coffee date. :)
ps,
straight men are assholes. 'scuse my unfitting but fitting language.
BEN: email me the exact info for Tuesday, please & thanks. Give me those lovely idiot-proof directions again.
Mazurka, failure with
january in a changeroom, the exact opposite of how a highway stretches or that feeling you get from thinking of contacting someone you used to kiss when you were five, the exact opposite of that. oh, well there’s a love song, with lyrics or cold hands, & you, hairclips found in thrift store jackets, more or less, I need more hairclips in my life, or, to deflect----& not dying for--not to die for anything, really. In the other pocket, scotch mints.
Those, I flung to the floor, having my reasons. Misplaced modifier! It works! In this case, it works! Doubles the deflection! & so, it helps, which is better than working.
now, I’m the equivalent of tired.
January 27, 2005
unspoken
So, I’ve developed this crippling shyness in which all I can notice is a man’s breathing. And during said novelty condition, I am unable to articulate, expand on thoughts, or something. This is a problem when I am marked down as having spoken, or not spoken. This is an even bigger problem when others are trying to pinpoint the coordinates of my identity.
from that point on, I’m this tough, quiet little shit. something’s playing a coy trick with me! It’s something that’s playing, and good trick, it seems! Like, suddenly, I’m unable to underline or put exclamation marks above lines in stories that make me read of raised rods, the two men fishing. I’m so ashamed of myself! Pen poised, unmarking!
I'll be running out of staples soon!
print, smell of
Why, suddenly, are the most exotic things in my life dried fruit and syntax? Oh, I know why! Pick me! And that’s the way it should be. Sun wizened produce & commas! manohwoman.
January 25, 2005
People's Poet
TIM MENTIONED ANNE WALDMAN IN WORKSHOP AND I DIED, ACTUALLY DIED FROM HAPPINESS,.
I knew this day would come. I knew it would. It had to!
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“I get a crackling out of Alaska that sounds religious” [Ken Babstock, from “Fire Watch”]
substitutions, stylistically speaking
this morning, a poem, rather long, comparatively, but only to those of some others, not mine. thankfully, with grand thanks, I think it’s clear I’ve been more than somewhat influenced by Billy Collins. everyone knew I needed it. life is so painfully good to me in that way. so good that I don't know what to do with it. save for giving it a few smoke breaks, here and there, goodness.