"night is falling to the ground"

"composite sketches"

i try to remember your face
i try, but it's gone
i look for your image in my head
and i only conjure up blank space

i watch the traffic running through white center, i'm watching, and
all i can remember is the way you light your cigarettes
there is nothing that will get it back
even should i run into you downtown
a quick word, and you'll return to smoke

you'll stay in the compartment
where i keep those i can't take with me
a tiny room from which you'll leak into my poems
you'll join that noisy crowd of composite sketches
and breathe, you'll breathe out like wine

I don't like this as much as I did after I wrote it, but there it is. This could be, and probably is, about a lot of people. No one specific. I wrote two things today that won't be appearing here anytime soon. They are called "the agony" and "puget sound lovers".

phone blog

I wrote a poem on the bus this afternoon called "composite sketches". It's too new to appear here, but maybe in the future. I remember wondering who I was writing about. It referenced White Center which usually means certain things I won't get into. I also was worried I was predicting the future. It turns out, in a way, I was. I really hate when that happens.

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"because this is kind of embarrassing"

"tiny prayers"

where am i going to use that line?
the one about the streetlamps
glinting off the moon
and the fire in my head
how am i to embrace anything
when I'm too busy yammering at myself?

i could write a million more
(and probably will)
poems about women i've pulled from under my skin
they always share vauge features with women i've loved
things that ended badly, or never got started
i've mastered all this, god let it evolve

i've been as happy writing about death
as writing about a lover's skin
and i've hid behind the ink
only to throw poems like bombs at the world
and i've watched them drop
as if i'd never pulled the pin

ignorance is love, and it breathes
which might be why i feel i'm safe
but maybe i'm only blind, or deaf, or both
maybe i'm simply burning time, or playing a long con
the tricky kind, this ones on myself
but maybe i'm waking up, maybe i'm taking my bullshit out with the trash


This is the best thing I've written since probably October, though it doesn't have a lot of competition. I'm especially proud of the third stanza. Very introspective, again, obviously. There's a lot of real shit here, a lot of  real worries.

first poem '11

"for for for"

if you wear that dress tonight
i'll be yours as long as you ask
let the past lie as it's buried
i've waited for this
i knew you'd be here, eventually

sacrifice my urges for yours
call you when you need me to
my impressions of you will be as you wish them
you calm me when i'm shaking
i can only be better if you let me

your ever pertinent smile
is the sun i wear when it's raining
cut me, before i'm dependent
or, i'll be a slave for your touch
and, i'll only eat for you

but, if you want these things, i'm able
you can take them
pin them to your chest like a prize
wear your hair down, and put that dress back on
carve your name across my soul, and plant a flower there

The impetus of this was me thinking about someone I know. The rest is fiction. It isn't very good, and I had to drag it out of myself, which rarely yields great things. This is the time of year I don't write much poetry.
I'm fascinated by how people become so utterly dependent on other people.It probably shows up a lot in my stuff, but stuff I don't understand tends to crop up a lot when I write.

savvy sarah ten feet tall

So I've met a girl who is like the living Sarah. I've always considered her my alter ego but yeah. this is bad. poetry to follow.

"they never even thought to ask your name"

I feel the need to post something so here is this. I don't feel like posting anything newer. This was written (i think) the day after "troof". It's pretty similar in subject matter, but I think it's better. I re-read it last nite and was pleasantly surprised.

"troof #2"

this is what i do when i'm desperate
i listen to "all the umbrellas" on repeat
and erase your pictures from my phone
i ignore the fact that you're a twenty minute walk away
all of this, this is all

i can either do that, or disappear
but to disappear i'd have to undo everything
cut my hair, cut all ties
move to a new state, and change my name
it's easier to suffer, it really is

what if instead i showered you with words?
called you at one am with tears on my neck?
i could whistle a sea chanty, and hide in my hands
the backlash would be imminent
i need to pretend i'm safe

i'll continue to pray, and deny every urge
if it ever happens it
won't be because of me
or i'll have to go paint houses
back where it doesn't rain

The second line is a reference to the song "All the Umbrellas in London"  by The Magnetic Fields. It is one of the most depressing songs ever written, and is dear to me. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnLLR4QwEPY

Here is this because people seem to like it:

"for terri"

i wanted to sit with you in your garden

and talk about the iris

i wanted to listen to your voice as i sipped sweet tea

still, i can feel your spirit, and i know it continues

i will carry a piece of you forever

a treasure, a flower in the soil of my heart

you were something to be shouted for

i am blessed that you knew my name

you encouraged me to love, and to watch my mouth

and, i am bigger because of it

you called me "the picky poet", and played up my strengths

you stood, and struggled with me when i couldn't hold myself

i hope it's warm wherever you are

i hope the breeze blows just the right way

i hope you're with those you love

and i know you're kicking ass just same

rambles

These lines:

i cling to deliberate things
my lover's breast, her hot, soft kiss

are from a late '07 poem called "success". I'm pretty sure it'll make the cut for ex-girlfriend. I like those lines a lot. I'm rarely that specific when I write, I know exactly who I was talking about here. The word deliberate can be taken so many different ways, which is why I like it.
It's odd looking back at work. It;s like looking at grainy photographs. It's fun going through these old poems. I can't wait to see what recent(ish) stuff will look like when I start compiling for gravity. This next stanza is from an aborted cycle called "marriages". I was high from the success of "birth" ( http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=43456899&blogId=412443892) when I tried to write that. I'm going to attempt to cannibalize what I can from that.

i'm married to this city, it was a simple ceremony
i got drunk, puked on her shoes
signed the papers, went to sleep in a bush
it wasn't the best of beginnings
but at least expections started low

Aw ha. Those are favorites. Anyhow, nothing to report. Life is threatening to get better. We'll see.