they scatter, rain whip, wind whip, tail whip. we all leave in tears. hear this. no she said, here. this. i scatter my hands, dig my toes into the dirt. it figures prominently, along with trees limbs and curbs, perched outside a window a lifetime watching cars shoot onto highways. hardest adjustment, the silence. always coy with the night, large and vacant and promising. she says, hear this but i cannot listen anymore. instead, here. this. she scatters her fingers, tugs at her skirt. they all leave in shambles.
Monthly Archives: May 2008
tell me you love me
talk in the dark of brighter days. time chewed up and we’re left with crumbs. she asks, will we ever get there? kissing her i reply, we never left
jag
uprooted, the teeth grow spiny vines like caterpillars that bristle to the touch. feathered wings of chapped lips speak of summer days along cliffs and promises. she felt pretty and i felt nothing.
the shift
we broke vowels the way lions snapped the necks of zebras. and we threaded through crowds of angry drinkers looking to get high like no one else. but we were exhausted and hopeful and something deep inbetween, stuck between this way and that, between a kiss and a lie. I prayed for many things, the least of which you would hold my drink as I fell.
honest without compassion
it is never easy to be honest, to say after the wreckage “we are better off”
it send everyone off the rails, re-opens newly sealed wounds,
to say “we are better, somewhat damaged”
to say “you are better off scarred and hobbling”
it is difficult and unfair and unyielding and without compassion.
groupwise – send as pop account
server side-
add domain (i.e. pop.com) to groupwise internet addressing
(c1 > tools > GW Sys Ops > internet addressing)
add pop user name as nick
(c1 > GW Sys > Dom > PO > user > prop > GW > nicknames
client side-
create pop accounts
incoming as pop
smtp as server
project snowflake: harry
amanda comes to me in the dark, she’s been dead for a little over 48 hours, but still she comes to me. i see her ravaged, i see her broken, her lip split, a foot missing a shoe, hobbling. she comes to me with one arm limp down her side, the other reaching out for me. and as i breathe heavy into the dark, i can see her trying to say my name, trying to say something, some stark refusal that she is dead. i shiver and sweat and wait for her. i wait for her to reach our bed and take my life for hers.
it’s not happening now
a dilemma. not happening
now
it’s not
happening over again
but still happening
all over now, a radiation of the senses
a phantom limb all over
scarred mess of tissue
if only i could cleave it, separate it from the wound
of it happening
asking me not to dwell on it is asking
to tie my hands and swallow it
whole and unblemished
over not happening now
but it happened, still happening
and i can’t get over who i’ve become
better, stronger, wiser
still healing, a happening now
not happening over again, sure
the worst of it
being i’m glad it happened, it woke us
up out of something tired and wasted
but had i known, always
had i known, i never would have
taken her, given her this pain
to forgive
sudden and aware
to find rest, raining, pouring, wind whip. i shiver through my anger, little patience, even less. maniacal need surpassed, a grinding peace, she’s always deserved much more, much better. awake in twilight, the first to face the dawn, i was meant to be like this. sudden and aware, before anyone else.
brother twist
two brothers sit by the shore, the curb, the bar. they talk in half sentences, lengthy monologues, subtle gestures. he tells the other of his wife, his girlfriend, a lost love. the other talks about nothing, the weather, the latest score. their jobs are meaningful, pointless they are still looking for work. one mentions his house, his landlord, moving. one drinks and drinks, doesn’t touch his glass, fingers the peanuts constantly. they each have forgotten to dream, plot their escape, seek comfort. when they leave one says to other, we need to do this again, say hello to the family, fuck off.