Wednesday, April 29, 2009

in the attic

in the attic, or the suspended wire

talking over wine
he says that memory is
a delicate web;

infinitely thin
silken threads linking all our
dreams, shames, and knowledge.

as time slips through the
waist of the hour glass, the
web evolves, rebuilds.

once supported by
the magical structure of
our mind, riches and

shiney treasures rot,
becoming ancient relics,
attained only by

a single quaking
tendril, a clothes line clinging
among the ruins.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

dream # 24

all my teeth fall out.
in their wake? warm sockets, rich
like buttery beef.

Friday, April 17, 2009

what i learned today on NPR (or, in afghanistan)

7 year old babe
says mommie my head hurts and
so she gives him smack.

Friday, April 10, 2009

for people that don't know what it feels like to be an asshole, or


the heavy woman
meanders in front of me,
wildly blemishing

the glorious
hypotenuse that i've mapped
out as my course home.

i kick some crumpled
paper in passive protest;
she pauses, then turns around

slowly, like a globe.
'i'm sorry' she sighs sadly
and then steps aside.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

for sarah

my dear chace crawford:
run a comb through that rat's nest
A S A P, son.