northbound roosevelt

6/27/06

it’s chilly here under the stars in the wind
but the scent of you and the drunken night
blend ahead like points of light
like satellites ‘cross the sky
and in this evening, in the stars above
you are

and if the world should cease or just my days
all of it right now
in the most perfect
of ways, at your side
I’d go smiling

that last poem begs some explanation, perhaps, since it's slightly vague (the intent of it, mind you), but it seems to beg further commentary.

It's about my life, in general, over the past number of years. A general theme i've been touching on lately in my poems and myspace bloggings is this notion of age: i'm 25, but what the fuck is going on? I'm getting older by the day, but I don't feel like I've done anything to really better my own growth and evolution since going vegan, really. That was awhile ago. Now what? I worry that i've been on this slow decline for years but that i'm finally starting to realize it. The irony, of course, is that I always thought the past was shit, and the future was cool, but lately the future doesn't seem to hold a lot of promise. In fact, it's downright scary, and i'm not fond of the way things may turn out if i don't alter the course of things as they stand right now. (In other words, i need to get off my ass and change things, lest i just sit here and fester in the current state of affairs, as they have been for an awful long time.)

Alas, I ramble. Enjoy your Thirsty Thursday, reader, and keep it real and such.

long haul heavy and low, steep grade

5/11/06

all those dark nights
with stars snowed in, always the mirror was black;
pointed pins of light
towards or away swimming and winking beneath the ink
but
now
oh how bright my rearview is! oh how sharp and clear
I can see behind me now with brights blasting strong

oh how sharp
and clear the irony! of the dark road afore me
seen with the crystal eyes forsaken
of their
weary cataract foresight, finally and true (perhaps)
(although
of that
I secretly
hope it’s anything but; maybe just
a truck in the dark)

father time, take this! bitch

5/6/06

when did Saturday night become this?

funny, but I can’t precisely recall
any party-night cocoonings, nor have I
stumbled upon the skins
of any last-weekeneds;
this molting, this metamorphosis
is nothing but a grand surprise, designed to catch me
unsuspecting!

Thank God
I still have my wits about me.

(false)quicksand / nothing is solid, or is it?

5/6/06

whatever can be
will be
like I’ve said every day
and like no other today; twenty-five but
still the same, feeling just the same
as eighteen, eight, one
and all the foggy useless days in between;
bullet
cutting through the hours
indestructibly, sleek

until I hit the wall and it all becomes
everything I thought it wasn’t

ubi amici, ibi opes

5/3/06

and as there is you, there is love.
one does
have to hand it to the Romans
now and again.

sunday night spaghetti

4/30/06

twisting the pen
round in round in rolls
makes the time before bed less a chore;
to sort the mess from a brimming pot,
before a night spent chasing the stock

…where minutes pass by like lives

and as my fingers whirl
thoughts wet and locked and stacked too tall
settle down and away
like spaghetti captured by a sink from a colander heap:

the first an oily noodle of a dream, of little right smiles like stars behind clouds
and another of a candle lit by two
and the last, even funny in the cold dark of night
of home

dry

4/25/06

I feel if I may like as they say
“so much butter spread on bread too thinly”
but the times, these days, they go a bit poorly
and even the butter ran out
leaving in its wake no glory;
just toast.

index this, motherfucker

4/25/06

see him
walking
side by side
last one out and first one in; he gets at the cold

hear his name! for no-one would
in the back
of the phantom bus
his awful meal and remains

might as well
name a
frontier the
child

you’d never
be that
in the
dark or anywhere
remember

you’d never!

far from
last week’s end of the deal line door

the kamikaze.

4/25/06

for no-one would remember his name.

child in the back of
the bus,
last one out and first one in (the door);
or at the end of the line
last week’s meal the cold remains
he gets
walking side by side in a frontier deal, dark
and
awful far from anywhere

a phantom; you’d never see him
might as well be that

you’d never hear his name

blah blah blah

4/25/06

rebuild
delete
delete
search
update
post-process
rebuild
delete
delete
and index again.

the alpha and omega of tomorrow

4/22/06

the west is always
so blinding
when you’re subtracting
the distance winding toward a Greeley destiny,
saving lives
manifested
savior
while you glare into the expiring light

but, the light ‘tis gone! late as
it is now

so with rested eyes a little more live perhaps I’ll stay
a bit longer, then
and see the east tomorrow through

you really are a little shit, I hope you know that

4/8/06

you’re really pushing the limits of what I can do;
time after time
I can assemble the pieces and paint the puzzle sunset
with words jointed, fitting perfectly tight
but you, you’ve really got me good this time –
i may as well throw in the towel and call
it a day, for I could never describe
how I still get lost
after all these years
in your eyes when you smile
and how your touch steals my breath;
I could
never
in eternity
give you that in words which you deserve
but in my own eyes and smile it’s yours
now, here

sam I am not for here instead is what I am

4/6/06

shell
husk
wind-blown empty dust
silt on the bottom of the river. darkness
between the skylanterns hangin’ on midnight high
and the glint of noon on the water
the retina burn it leaves in your eye
and the short moment
that it takes
to forget it
as unremarkable and passing
as the leaves in the breeze

it’s sort of like Duncan Sheik’s “Home,” i guess

4/3/06

god, it’s like a cloudy morning, awfully a Sunday
much akin to the ones where you glue yourself in
with no movement except for an exotic
excursion
to the kitchen for cofee
at two

god, it feels this way for I’m tired;
i’ve spent hours
between these sheets for years, never I’ve moved
not even for drink
and oh,
it feels the way heaven must

but, god, even that high place above and holy
must someday become a burden I trust
when you’re burning for what’s beyond, a sky of blue
and earlier coffee, for perhaps not one but maybe two

april fool

4/1/06

something held onto me tonight
and bade me write;
but it’s gone

perhaps
in the light of
that absence

it’s time for me to go

yes, I did start it

3/21/06

the ironies and similarities of
this cold night shine through and true like
the feeling of you the last in an empty room

which was the only way I’d have it;
no-one else but you at the end

and
though
it’s just me tonight in another empty room
a little farther away
perhaps this time I’ll do things right

Fedex truck, I can still finish, for you are here in spirit.

2/27/06

… yet always,
it’s that smile of yours I long to see; the
magic one that can send away the rain
in the mightiest of storms, right catastrophes –
I’d drive
a thousand miles
just to smile back, and hold you
the only
close to me as I sigh

playback/pause/rewind…/… stop

2/24/06

of all, there was only harm done, no
good to speak of
unless it’s somehow
hidden behind the
impenetrable veil of
internal misunderstanding,
a part of that fucking endless
rat-race cause-and-effect cycle
that never gets finished
because it just loops back
upon itself like a product
of Mobius gone mad at the
startling sight of crisp infinity
clean as the steel point
of a knife - the sight so shocking
it could flash freeze you
in an instant
yet unexpectantly
dull, like the
front of a school bus;
because
who can wrap
their minds around
something so
bedamned?
its momentum could crush you
like a starlit sigh

midas

2/24/06

everything I touch
gilded in the end does tarnish
and transformed erodes
into so much cheapened dust
washed away not fast enough
by the light and refreshing
spring breezes

it looks beautiful

2/24/06

…but
the vampires
stir!

mountains in the west, fire
symbol shining!
behind those close on the path to sleep

the
orange evening fadelight left
as a memorial to the
hollow
bloated
orgy
below, spread upon the valley
like
the nastiest of oilcloth tablecoverings

this poem, it failed.

2/20/06

what will I bring to the folks
of Adel and Perry?
my smile and laughter and
well of endless wit, or
shall it flow no more, with eyes the least of merry?

will the sun depart afore me and afford
the wild cats
of hell to loose, frightening and depressing
old corpses and children
both
asleep in the cold?

Or… what?

perhaps I will sleep on it.

I had to settle for the refried beans

2/20/06

funny how
in the end
how little it means
like ordering
in mexican nowhere
spicy
black beans
but finding them, sadly,
full of bacon and cheese
(and ironically lacking of the spice
so claimed,
in a venue like that
so talked-up and shamed)

scattered and replaced anew with ears frozen

2/20/06

light
the windows-casts
about the
contrast glow!

and
through the down,
charcoal-colored
of night

that I slid thrice to
winter lips
shiny ice on black
a
slippery misfortune, gray,
cold as death on
my snow-filled tonight
highlighting
an eerie
sky
as I laughed!

the unspoken slippery road
trees a-scream complement

… and the light
at general pencil-shaded is,
silent
the
straining
clawing
whisper-degrees of the now

después de la tormenta, like the afterglow

2/15/06

the snow-filled sky casts
an eerie
light
degrees of gray about the night

contrast
glow and
whisper through the
windows

highlighting the silent trees a-scream
clawing
straining

and the light of the now
is a
complement
to the unspoken slippery road,
shiny ice on black

that I slid down thrice tonight
as I laughed!
at my general
slippery misfortune
charcoal-colored, pencil-shaded, cold as death on
winter lips

dull blunt thud

2/9/06

can’t
write tonight

don’t
even
care
to think;

without the light
i’ll just
have another drink

(at
least I can still
rhyme! I think)

written at the Denver International Airport, on my way to Spokane yesterday.

-------------------

for the romans, some say it was the lead pipes

2/5/06

fat lady, dressed
in red, plump
from business
too tired to walk
so
she takes the
sidewalk
slow
escalator horizontal
to
nowhere with her wheeled
luggage
close behind, handle
resting on
her ass too fat
to even pull it

so she stands

somewhere in blair, and who even cares?

2/1/06

as you make your way from
an honest day’s toil, sweat upon your brow
like a flood in the now
you might suddenly find, in a moment of time
that you’re queued
for milk and honey like
the most ancient of wine
as your pantry bares home to dust

of the apples you’ll pick the ripest,
the grapes the fullest and plump,
of the collards you’ll choose
the greenest and firm
and the berries, the darkest and lush

but beneath the greatest things
are those dusty and cheap
kept away beneath the sheath

just the jilted fruits rotting in the dark
barely
discovered
and secretly bruised

it’s all I want right now

1/31/06

god,
i want to fuck
you
just stick my fingers
inside you
find your special spot and blow
your mind
one
two
three times and more
over and over and over until you
shudder so strong
that the world fogs away
and you drift to sleep
with a fire-cloaked smile

chicago

1/26/06

funny how lately on every approach
all that surrounds me
seems a perfect buoyant decoy, splendid
and floaty on the surface but really just
dull and hollow and lead-heavy, like the sound
a body makes when tossed
from a country bridge
atop the earth
after everything goes so
terribly
wrong

after I shut
my eyes

after all this
falls
down
in a puff of smoke and shaking frame
to the ground

too short it was

1/24/06

three wishes?
dare I say I’d only need
one, for in that
far-brief space
of my eyes lost in yours
the terrible frozen fact
was all I could face –
that, yes,
time was gone, it was not ours
and what I wouldn’t have done
to make it hold on strong
forever and steadfast

hollow

1/18/05

I woke out of the dream this afternoon
at a howl; the witchy sound of wind a-whistle
among what must have been
branches winter-barren and thin
but
alas
it was that hole in me
gaping wide, again
letting through the stale south wind
that bore me north today

that strange interlude

1/13/05

i was
just a shell
to
her
and I could
never
be that, not then, and
not
now
because I am
a Goat, not
a creature of the sea

see?

i am more than
the mollusk
she thought I
was, and if
you can’t understand
what a Goat is

(more than just a bicycling
partner!)

then, ma’am, it’s your
loss.

slide

1/13/05

i must have the true heart of an artist
for if I can bleed this fast and dream this deep
and feel these cannon-shot holes in my chest
but be lifted to the sun with the slightest south wind
i must really have it inside,
just cleverly disguised in the greatest of guise
with bites and bytes and sprites –
the things geeks dream of

but I doubt they can feel as I; strong, like
the smell of fresh dirt ground beneath a
traveler’s clouded and ambivalent steps;
they see the grains of sand while
in the dying light I see the forest old and stricken with decay
and oh how the bloated sky roils above it!

what I would give
to have that microscopic vision and stoic stance
against the rest of it all like those warriors for
the abstract;
but all I can see is the reality afore me,
the blackest ice

and all around me the tankers slide

FedEx truck, thank you for signaling that I am now finished.

1/12/05

I’m fond of the way it all melts
when I hear your voice and the way
my pulse can quicken at a breath;
the way your heart beats when I hold you tight
and all those things
leave me, as they do, swimming
in a mixture of ancient history
and shattering discovery that steals my speech
and leaves me longing for that chance
to meet your eyes again
and isn’t it amusing how
I would long for that chance
to steal a glance
but never dared to
take the chance?

I kept it all wrapped up tight and
right against the cold

but, oh how it’s clear and hot this afternoon here

try as I might

1/7/06

this reminds me of a lightning storm
almost two years ago that blew over
leaving me stuck on the sidewalk for hours; unlike
anything i’d seen
but before it held me, being naïve,
i felt why not capture it? such a thing must
be saved and what better way to
trap it than in a set of photographs?
with lightning so strong and energy so electric
i’d never miss a shot

only soon I discovered, upon the recovery
of my instrument in the dark
(a storm so strong
will render household power
useless)
that it’s batteries were dead –
o how i was saddened
by my opportunity lost!

alas in the hours after
as I watched that fearful and awesome display
I realized
things of this stature
are sacred
and the act of capture
might just do them
a bit of disservice
much as I hunger to describe them

i l ove the fact how sometimes i can sit down and just blast out random shit. sometimes it may still have a particular meaning behind it (as in the piece immediately after this) but might come across as awful vague and - sometimes - might deliver an unintended, incorrect message. while i fear this may be the case with said poem (the first two are completely fucking random), i feel bad going back and
c
h
a
n
g
i
n
g
t h i n g s
for it might
detract
from the original tight, warm, protective and subtle sexual grasp
it has
on the original moment

alas. stay cool and have a cold one for me tonight, reader! or else.

sounds hawaiian doesn’t it?

1/7/06

come, pull over
exit with me
now – here it is! this
is where we leave and turn off
for everything
that could lie before
us out of
the channel of mainstay and
convention so drab we’d rather
sell ourselves

it may seem like Elgin or
Valley City, or
fucking saint tropez, dear, but
I guarantee
it’s anything but

this is heaven
for those that wish to see

is this, dear, our permutation?

1/7/06

only the natural woodsnap proper for this place
a crack in the air

no-one
hears that
from me!
only thing alive!

and in this tornado
like the squeal of swine within
I’m the only animal
awash in a frothy spit of trees
; fir needles

and the branches as they snap they do make a noise
; but
like a whip upon
a ship
to nowhere
straining at its bindings my back
ready to explode
dry
dry
like
everything so
dry
like a powder-keg parched
on
the flint but it can’t
for I’m ready to explode

the only one?

sometimes, they write themselves

1/7/06

awash in a frothy spit of trees; fir needles
and in this tornado I’m the only animal
only thing alive
and the branches as they snap they do make a noise
like the squeal of swine within; but no-one
hears that
from me
only the natural woodsnap proper for this place
a crack in the air
dry
like a whip upon my back
dry
like
everything so
parched
dry
like a powder-keg
on a ship
to nowhere
straining at its bindings ready to explode, but it can’t
for I’m the only one here
who can wield the flint

god, my poems suck lately dude... i apologize. they just aren't flowing they way they used to, or something... i find myself second-guessing them more often than in the past. i really need to stop trying to write these in between coding and all the other stuff I find myself doing on a day-to-day basis, or something. or else get loaded before i write; that's always a blast! hehe

again, i apologize. bear with me; they should get better soon. :)

the glorious thing

1/5/06

linen winter air and a spotless fire sun
draw me swiftly to the east
where the great mountains lie
and caught far ahead in the shimmering noon
like energy kinetic
are the manifold reflections
on the watersurface
trapped within the glass
set upon my desk
as I write

and I’m one of those sparks
found within its mass
concealed underneath and dancing in a dash
hidden away in the blue strobes a-flash
as I cover endless ground to everywhere, and make my way
in the light
through the high passes cold and tight
to that far western night
that’s as close to me now

as the other

title’s not important

1/3/06

funny how on a dime things can change
yet always remained, never for a time
that you'd think was just a moment...

your eyes were always there
and funny how that veil can lift with such blinding speed
that I
the simple soul
am rendered stunned,
a mere deer
electrified and tingling in your headlights

and o! what a bash
before the hurricane crash
this time on the wet and winding road