write it

Youtube: One Art in Cairo

freeze/burn

Penguin lost my song in the breeze.
Lost to some other melodies.

what i hate the most

is the falling asleep.
what i hate the second most is the waking up.

shut up/shut down

but if that's the worst, it's not so bad.
i can make molehills out of mountains
and i can write like judy blume.

sit tight

choices will lead to choices that you cannot anticipate
so sit tight
sit calm
strangle your sight
with the light of a dim,
distant star.
sit tight.
sit calm.
there's no way to anticipate where any of it goes.

stick wants stuck

Is it spring yet and is there life growing somewhere? Is all that buried potential brave enough to reach. up. out. winter brings lazy and a certain ennui. hibernation, and i suppose that is part of a cycle.

but my eyes are strained from big picture attempts. focus is lacking. perspective is limited to this little moment

where restless sleep and spiking emotions make me tired of the reaching. tired of exploration. i pull my empty hand back to myself. what i touch doesn't follow me back. what i reach for doesn't seem to see a home in me. achy for something known and constant to curl up around.

nothing is, though. nothing is.
stuck wants stick
and vice versa.

blah

even when there are weeks and weeks
of nothing new
and winter brings blue,
i am in the habit of living
and so i do.

libations to america

"It is only in isolate flecks that
something is given off

No one
to witness
and adjust, no one to drive the car."
-WCW "Spring and All" XVIII

tangental gripe and a dream

i might be tired of people.
and just... living.
balance is lost to the fact
that there is never balance, really.
if there is balance for a minute, it is such an exception
so rare
that it becomes unusual, and not a balance at all.

owe so much on a student loan for experience that i've had to, for the most part, unlearn.
managers at starbucks make more money than me.
money is stupid.

can't really remember how life used to be before.
no idea how i would like it to be or how to know.
i would like to curl up (too).

(in the dream we were curled up in that room. we were preparing for a storm. (there is a storm, there is really a storm out there.) even in the dream i could tell that his skin was not yours. (loosehardlyanypressurecaughtoffguard,but still i knew) even in the dream i knew).

i would take a day off, but i have no idea what i'd do with myself all day.

curse.
america better hurry the curse up
and it'd better be recognizable.
it'd better be worth something.
even if it's just america for you
as long as it's worth something,
i'll glean direction vicariously.

here we are

So here we are, trying to make meaning out of particles.
But what else is there to do?