I know there,
in that brisk year
that may be
these days
and those
will yet swell a chorus
of summer's reflection.
In these voices are heard
and in time moments lost
that could have been thought
a moments song.
But in a summer's thought
colorful faces support
Impressionism and
grapefruit smiles never end.
Butterflies melt on skins
never to be touched again
except by a summer's thought.
Our organic hap
a hiccup and
giggle
rose jiggle
and
never again
rely
on thought.
Swell,
set,
and
continue:
listen
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
49.
Immaturity brought us together.
We could have tossed dice all night and never
missed the four side.
Queen of Hearts, shoot the moon! Its set already!
Sun rose in our eyes and set in our heart
And sun rose in our minds but quite never set.
Fold fold fold fold fold they used to tell me,
but I never learned,
We could have tossed dice all night and never
missed the four side.
Queen of Hearts, shoot the moon! Its set already!
Sun rose in our eyes and set in our heart
And sun rose in our minds but quite never set.
Fold fold fold fold fold they used to tell me,
but I never learned,
Friday, February 24, 2012
48.
Someday I wish to perfect writing to the mind, both conscious and not. We have a basal pattern, each of us, which oscillates in two directions: towards thought and towards feeling. Thought being mathematical and feeling being not. I wish to replicate this disintegration and reintegration of consciousness in word. Between mathematical proof and impressionism, the continuum all of us surely live our conscious life on. The problem is simply becoming better at writing.....Someday I will definitely write something I am proud of in this style, incorporating realizations in neurological studies will be necessary. How do I start? I think consciousness is a metaphor for the binary between math and subjectivity.....
47.
The curious thought that
She was never as green as grass
fell silently and creepingly into my
animal 'there'.
Had it been there all along?
Below awareness, where we keep
the patterns which could change life,
curation gone awry for a moment's shock?
Shock our thought, and
Shock our blood, and
Shock our life, that which
moved sword and, here
one away from what was
and towards what will be
SHOCKed I was, she wasn't.
She was never as green as grass
fell silently and creepingly into my
animal 'there'.
Had it been there all along?
Below awareness, where we keep
the patterns which could change life,
curation gone awry for a moment's shock?
Shock our thought, and
Shock our blood, and
Shock our life, that which
moved sword and, here
one away from what was
and towards what will be
SHOCKed I was, she wasn't.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
46.
She is so stupid,
just so stupid.
I would asker
one day,
WHEN WAS THE
LAST TIME YOU SWEAT?
And she would go on,
go on to describe
Sour Patch,
which are SOUR!
Once another told me
"Neversettleforagirlthatdoesntgiveyoueverything"
in a last salty gasp,
her back broken
from the weight of my kindness.
Too kind.
Never two of a kind.
But I admit to the first:
I am but a Kid,
not from a Sour Patch.
I like Sour Patch Kids too,
and so do most but they are sour.
You know, girl, better than most
that if you lay
arms wrapped
legs wrapped around a Sour Patch Kid
for a night, everything in your body
hurts in the morning,
and even still by midday.
You can ask my professor,
"Sour is adaptive to detect acid"
To say, "this is bad for you"
But really, when was it?
When was the last time you sweat?
just so stupid.
I would asker
one day,
WHEN WAS THE
LAST TIME YOU SWEAT?
And she would go on,
go on to describe
Sour Patch,
which are SOUR!
Once another told me
"Neversettleforagirlthatdoesntgiveyoueverything"
in a last salty gasp,
her back broken
from the weight of my kindness.
Too kind.
Never two of a kind.
But I admit to the first:
I am but a Kid,
not from a Sour Patch.
I like Sour Patch Kids too,
and so do most but they are sour.
You know, girl, better than most
that if you lay
arms wrapped
legs wrapped around a Sour Patch Kid
for a night, everything in your body
hurts in the morning,
and even still by midday.
You can ask my professor,
"Sour is adaptive to detect acid"
To say, "this is bad for you"
But really, when was it?
When was the last time you sweat?
45.
She was dating my brother when we met. At the base of the stairs her skin shone honey from distant incandescence and in an 18-year-old hormonal slosh I squeezed by hoping she wouldn't mention my presence. Pop-Tart Pop-Tart Pop-Tart. Only when repetition is broken are we alive and in another hormonal indecision I answered hi, nice to, meet, you,
Hi I'm Cyndi, she said, my name is spelled in a less affluent way than the other one you know, or even than the third spelling which you have never even considered, but I promise you, its not telling of me, telling only of the afluencies which will occur between us over the next year, and as I sit with you at some point, at the October playground kissing, in my January bed sobbing, in your Spring car singing or in those same timeless lyrics, you will not be considering the arguably blue collar spelling of my name.
And in an exhausted pinch I continued on into the kitchen
as silver tears sent
parabolic curves
through the distinctly
my-house-air. It was
stainless steel that night
that caught the tears.
Stain-
less-
Steel
Hi I'm Cyndi, she said, my name is spelled in a less affluent way than the other one you know, or even than the third spelling which you have never even considered, but I promise you, its not telling of me, telling only of the afluencies which will occur between us over the next year, and as I sit with you at some point, at the October playground kissing, in my January bed sobbing, in your Spring car singing or in those same timeless lyrics, you will not be considering the arguably blue collar spelling of my name.
And in an exhausted pinch I continued on into the kitchen
as silver tears sent
parabolic curves
through the distinctly
my-house-air. It was
stainless steel that night
that caught the tears.
Stain-
less-
Steel
Sunday, February 12, 2012
44.
Your text read, "Whenever" so I said, "8.5 min" and hopped in my car. I pulled up driverside-closest to your house, tires just touching the grass. My headlights illuminated the empty 11oclock street filled with heavy 11oclock air. At the end I caught a glimpse of the ash-filled lot that was your friend's house. Her brother is getting better I hear.
I waited a minute or two and then sent you "Herre" like in that Nelly song from a while ago. I started getting that short of breath you get but don't realize it, and then about ten seconds in you have to take a really large dose of air to get your blood pressure back to normal but then when you exhale you get dizzy, that kind of short of breath. My doctors told me that sometimes when this happens to me my vocal chords try to kill me. "They choke you. Your vocal chords don't really like you!" They would joke, and I would agree.
You would come out and walk straight up to the car. I would roll down my window, you would reach in and give me a long kiss, walk around to the other side and get in. It would be good. We would have beeen good.
But you left that house that night with a smile to hide. Hold steady, don't show me your smile. You passed in front of my car and the headlights hit you.
They hit you and maybe the only thing to hit you
and cause you to smile because you
don't know sweat. You don't know
scrapes and blood and laughter.
But in that moment, suspended
in that sunbeam, you made me
forget.
Forget everything
Forget everyfrown
And when you looked
down
with that palefaced
rose smile
trying still to hide it
behind your coat
hide it behind the
11oclock smoke
her house still ash,
still smoke,
I left the car
and watched
your birth
your mother
and your father
in a NewYourkCity
pad
bring to life what would
smile rosily at me
halfway around the world
one cold January night
and say
iloveyou.
I waited a minute or two and then sent you "Herre" like in that Nelly song from a while ago. I started getting that short of breath you get but don't realize it, and then about ten seconds in you have to take a really large dose of air to get your blood pressure back to normal but then when you exhale you get dizzy, that kind of short of breath. My doctors told me that sometimes when this happens to me my vocal chords try to kill me. "They choke you. Your vocal chords don't really like you!" They would joke, and I would agree.
You would come out and walk straight up to the car. I would roll down my window, you would reach in and give me a long kiss, walk around to the other side and get in. It would be good. We would have beeen good.
But you left that house that night with a smile to hide. Hold steady, don't show me your smile. You passed in front of my car and the headlights hit you.
They hit you and maybe the only thing to hit you
and cause you to smile because you
don't know sweat. You don't know
scrapes and blood and laughter.
But in that moment, suspended
in that sunbeam, you made me
forget.
Forget everything
Forget everyfrown
And when you looked
down
with that palefaced
rose smile
trying still to hide it
behind your coat
hide it behind the
11oclock smoke
her house still ash,
still smoke,
I left the car
and watched
your birth
your mother
and your father
in a NewYourkCity
pad
bring to life what would
smile rosily at me
halfway around the world
one cold January night
and say
iloveyou.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
42.
R1R2L1R2LDRULDRU
Before the internet, how would one figure out the secrets?
The secrets?
The secrets of like, the world.
Just explore.
I'm so bad at that,,,,,,,,,like how would you know where to go?
Exploring isn't about knowing, its about learning.
You can't learn without knowing where to learn
(Kirby 64 drums disdainingly map heartbeats)
discrete 1
or
continuous 0
Before the internet, how would one figure out the secrets?
The secrets?
The secrets of like, the world.
Just explore.
I'm so bad at that,,,,,,,,,like how would you know where to go?
Exploring isn't about knowing, its about learning.
You can't learn without knowing where to learn
(Kirby 64 drums disdainingly map heartbeats)
discrete 1
or
continuous 0
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
41.
I would love, again.
I have once but never
'in' love,
'in' love 'with'
one.
Staring into two eyes
has never come, with lust,
never equalbutopposite
never combining.
Always pink vector
never pink vectors
never red nothingness.
Red nothingness.
In black and paper
I draw setting Sun next to pink margin lines,
always setting
and never rising.
I have once but never
'in' love,
'in' love 'with'
one.
Staring into two eyes
has never come, with lust,
never equalbutopposite
never combining.
Always pink vector
never pink vectors
never red nothingness.
Red nothingness.
In black and paper
I draw setting Sun next to pink margin lines,
always setting
and never rising.
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