http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/28/world/europe/28greece.html
http://abc.net.au/news/stories/2007/08/28/2016953.htm?section=world
http://news.bbc.co.uk/cbbcnews/hi/newsid_5270000/newsid_5275200/5275284.stm
and the conspiracy theorists say it’s terrorists with a political agenda since elections are coming. and the environmentalists say it’s global warming that has caused all these droughts. and the people say it’s mismanagement on the part of the prime minister. and the ex-pats say it’s because they are using the army to fight fires and they’re nothing but kids too stupid for college. and the news says a woman tried to flee her village but the fire cut off the road. the news said she and a dozen other people rush into the olive groves instead. the news said they found her remains, arms wrapped around her four children, amongst the charred olive limbs.
Monthly Archives: August 2007
revel, revile
there are times i do not know if i should revel in my inhumanity or if i should revile it.
and even worse, sometimes, i just feel nothing at all.
she says
she says to him,
you live in the past, you live like you have no future
i’ve had better guys than this, i’ve had better dates
i don’t understand your drug problem, i don’t understand why you need to fix
i’m everything you need right here, right here in front of you
it isn’t me you should quit.
and he says to her,
i thought i saw something in you but my hands are too brutal
i’m a roller coaster gone all wrong, i’m a shotgun in the mouth
the closer i get to you, the more nothing is ever enough
everything i need this needle for, comes from straight between my hips
i am the lie i need to quit.
scramble
And sometimes it feels like breaking, like I’m scrambling
for pieces and they are all the wrong one, I don’t know
how to make them fit, I don’t know how to make myself
fit into you anymore and I want to, I so want
to, I’ve lost so much, I’ve already lost the pieces
that should matter, does it even still
matter that i lost you
city sibling rivalry
The city during the day is just barely orchestrated chaos. Millions of people hustling into a million directions. I’ve always had a fondness for the west side, particularly around mid-town: it always seems a little unsure of itself, constantly under construction, always trying to catch up with its sibling, the more polished and well established east side.
Sibling rivalry amongst canyons of buildings.
italians and midwesterners in nyc
What truly knocks my socks off is the people. From everywhere. Italians and midwesterners dressed to the nines, dressed like tourists, dressed for the summer, all out here, being engulfed, caressed, being buoyed about, with their cameras, bustling up against the natives, awash in the traffic and buildings and proof of life that the city reveals over and over again.
Without the people the city’s just one lump of historical landmarks ridden with asbestos
it doens’t matter what
it doesn’t matter what or how you put it down, only that you
put
it
down
put it to rest, keep it restless, keep the fingers moving, in and out of here, in and out of the page, the screen
whatever this is
it doesn’t matter, the act matters, the fact of the act
the who you be when you’re no longer me
some cracked mosaic
all these little fragments of a life real and imagined, of writing and the joy of it, of loose talk and even looser words, of half thoughts, half scenes, of couples on the rocks, of lovers on the mend, of gangsters and killers and clowns as children, of angst ridden poets, all of you, some shattered whole, some cracked mosaic, and i am happy in that, to have found you again my dear, dear old friend. you never did abandon me, and i had thought i could go on without you.
with nails, with teeth
when he handles her it’s all tufts of hair and tongues. it’s all push and pull and scorching heat. everything burns around her. it comes close to violence if love were not involved, if anyone can love anyone any more these days. it becomes like clawing, like trying to get at something that’s beneath the surface, just this side of the vein. and he’s been trying to get at it, with his nails, with his teeth, because he wants to show it to her, he wants to say, this is what i see when i am in you, this is what i imagine you to be, this is you. isn’t it beautiful? how long has it been since you were beautiful?
ever go away
and there are times when the skin is so thin and so real that i rake it over and over to get at what’s inside, to peel it off and see what’s inside, to separate the meat from the bone to feel what’s inside and all i find in myself are maggots and shit and despair like some new tomorrow will never come, like all the world’s roses are perched thorns out from under my chin, like the pressure in my head will never abate, will never grow tired, will never grow old, will never ever go.