April 2010
1 post
March 2010
7 posts
“honey, i’m a prize and you’re a catch and we’re a perfect...”
– stephen malkmus - pavement spit on a stranger
You’ll always have smokes if you always give buckets of love Like little sad Tad who was living on beetles and grubs He was a blue-eyed merle and loved an Indian girl Lived alone in the warm wet fields in this corner of the world
February 2010
13 posts
big star - i’m in love with a girl.
...
nic cage as everyone is my new homepage.the... →
heavy snow haze
the third of the year.
a firetruck
flicks on its siren
pushes through
the un-plowed thoroughfare.
the driver,
i study the flash of his face
- looking glass rigid -
pulled taunt, terrified.
eeriely similar
to how the ill-prepared new father
handed his newborn child
in the delivery room.
cradles the head awkwardly.
“of all the gin joints….”
Watchphenomenal.
“She’s a woman who makes the most out of her life: She is content and...”
– Ben Lee
great american men! →
cavemen? in new york?
January 2010
13 posts
now i think of you
as a pear tree i once knew
in the backyard of a bucolic-eyed abandoned farmhouse.
i recall the blossoms
and later, the fruit
i remember
- how sanguine
how beautiful
but i can’t remember how anything tasted.
a. brother & b. brother & c. big black...
“she’s got everything she needs. she’s an artist. she don’t...”
– she belongs to me.
… if you have a day’s work
& a...
December 2009
4 posts
how it feels to be something on.
a: what are you on?
A. i'm on a permanent adventure.
“if i’m not touching the wire, then nothing will ever spark…”
– newmantra.
the simple fact that this exists still makes me...
November 2009
16 posts
sometimes i find myself still lying in your arms.
Avenues - Whiskeytown
Know the cabs here they cant run down to your house Sometimes Ill sit and wish I were somewhere else So lets dim the daylights for us sweethearts that we are Sometimes I find myself still lying in your arms
All the sweethearts of the world Are out dancing in the places Where me and all my friends go to hide our faces Avenues run one way Streets they run the same...
nothing but.
nothing but
an american woman
faking
an english accent
in a full-length dress
“auroras were born on your skin…”
heady mornings.
Some nights,
I dream of crystalline light
refracting off the Atlantic
just after low-tide
and wake up clammy
-
as if I expect sand
in the minuscule cracks
of my hands
-
as if I expect that glorious ache
that comes with a day exposed
to heavy sun and sea breeze
-
as if I expect that familiar tang
of burning cells and suntan oil and dried sea salt
on bare skin
-
these are...
ah, life is a gate...
ah, life is a gate, a way, a path to paradise anyway - why not live for fun and joy and love or some girl by a fireside, why not go to your desire and L A U G H? (Big Sur, pg 42)
“an ugly man needs good clothes. a man with a face like a bag of wrestlers’...”
– leonard cohen
