of moon spikes and bad radio listings

we stayed up late at someone else's garden party
a quarter to two and I'm thinking
wildly
impressed with the enormity of how small-time is
drinking a 'slow low'
next to the charcoal grill and
sleepy
white blossoms
I pull a nickle and take a drag
of what I like to call
grounded oyster -
'I'll tell you what'
you were the lumpy to my bumpy
under that dern
canoe

oh wow!

how cool it is to be able to fly thru the internet instead of having to crawl on broken glass! i have a new ISP! ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i don't want to leave for work!

crackin' on the magic or

shoot the angel tethered to the grave

and the night presses against the tiny aspen

and the hunter's aim shifts

over shadow

over space


how's that for poetic lace?

a flutter to the bruise?

nah, your words only calm and stradle

thanks. i love you, too.


................






-another time-

forsaken.
on the back of the photo you wrote,
'they never came'.
another rite of passage -
the dark, white
surf, rushes our house by the sea

you ignite
the dangling from within;
this dreamed universe
extended.

I miss you:
ring-of-chandelier, hot-pin
.x.
gravel of sea-chatter
light in-this-s]hell

............

i know you hate indie.
but. this song reminds me of you.

the miles cast slippery bends, up ahead

Nina keeps her eyes on the road
the bangles on her arms;
small silver songs
as innocuous as
the sun in the perfect blue sky
next to her -
he lay like a rock in his blanket
a corpse
the alive
scooped from his whole being
eyes black as a funeral
she hated when he got this way
hated it all
for him
and for herself

are you thirsty

no

your soul may melt into your body's fever

the soul is a river
it flows forever
winds around the stars
like a ribbon

god
you are so
dialed-in

sorry

she tries to smile but it feels shaky
and fake -
she felt like a moon's crater
spread with embalming fluid

slow down
you're speeding

suddenly she hates the metal box
that is his heart
she hates being afraid
she hates feeling alone

-as one-

we land on our sides


azaleas

zig zagging
and
predictable

emptied

from life's little bluffings

scattered
neon
letters

the moon nods
in and out


happiness

does not overcome us


honey
bee

sitting next to a lit lamp
changing numbers
your eyebrows
look like
sequentially
astrophes
[does that make sense?]

apparently

it is the moon's sky
and we are housed
in this poem

a swum-out
script

you and I

the actual where

I don't know

after all

it is night

and

every move

only

shadows

the ceiling

shattering
but

still

I do the dishes
the moon
drifts from a window
to
where the cat sits

and

perhaps

weekend
puh O lease
sirens
as we box more
boxes

marked

with the pale print of our hands

I'm In.

On piggy-back. Until I get my equipment moved by my regular IP, because I still have a year left on the contract. ugh. My spotify won't play though.. "Because your account is being used somewhere else." heh.
yeah. so I am all moved in. At the expensive of my left knee getting all jacked up.
So just in case I can't get in here tomorrow.. (My anniversary ..so to speak .. 2 yrs of sobriety and no sex.) none. nada. Two years. I still have my last pack of cigs. The pack I brought with me on the train. yeah I know it's, road to nowhere, but you can replace road with train.



I tweaked the Scrabble poem from 03.02.13

We , and where is our Scrabble game?

A blank night
another
breath
Are you
say I
ruined with perfectly
you
kitty in the static snow
little bunny ears
connecting fronds

you review my stats
and
all the lonely days & good-byes
your hair drowning your shoulders
as you drift
against this hole in my eyes
you
the weather in
this room
cool yet to come
I am John Keats in a tie-dye t-shirt
in your lap of milky
tying
day to
day
talk about
the knotted and twisted
winter:
on actual paper , the clouds

in

your porcelain

smile

let's decorate!

I can move in next week!

I am going to attempt, once again, to achieve and maintain, a modern,
minimalistic look / feel.

Here is the photo that will keep me on track..




to have a personal photo, blown up, and mounted on anything from acrylic to raw aluminum is expensive.
I don't have a couch or a coffee table.. I have.. one blow-up mattress, a velvet chair and a storage cube. oh, and one TV tray. I am leaving the area rug here. Well.. just thinking out-loud.



I also want a 'sideboard' .. I could shoot myself - I found a vintage, stereo console / cabinet at the Goodwill, a couple of weeks ago for $30 and didn't buy it. omg, how stupid! It looked like this



only in a dark wood. I just found a few online.. for $350!