they will not appreciate our genius

2007-01-18T22:04:00.000-08:00

I cannot stand any of you
anymore
and I haven't thought of leaving everybody and everything I have ever known in such a long time now
but today I find the idea romantic and worthy of adultery
so I say a few pick up lines and pay for dinner
and I'll get into my car and drive away from all of you
and drive away from all of this
and drive away from all of me
and drive as far as I can
through fifty states
through canyons and mountains
through valleys and deserts
through a beach
and right into the ocean
and I'll just keep driving
and then I won't be scared anymore.

"how old is this stuff? is there a label?"

2006-12-18T21:37:00.000-08:00

#one

"Because," answered the princess, also stopping a safe distance away, "if I run I may fall down and break myself."
"But couldn't you be mended?" asked the girl.
"Oh, yes. But no one is so pretty after being mended, you know," replied the princess.

Taking the money, the jewelry,
Breaking and entering,
Nothing but misdemeanors
Nothing but small scabs on my conscience
But I shouldn't have hit that girl
I shouldn't have killed that little girl.
Death row is but a dream now
They will keep me locked up in here for years
And feed me well
And treat me well
And let me watch all the damned TV I please
And let me do anything to keep me from falling asleep.
I will live until I'm nearly 100.
I am already dead.

#two

The thunderstorm only lasted minutes
- no, seconds
but trees are still uprooted nonetheless
powerlines ripped
the roads undriveable
and a man left dead in a ditch.

Come thirty years
- no, thirty weeks
- no, thirty days
the storm will be remembered
as passing clouds
as ornaments of the sky
as everpresent gardeners.

The widowed mother
will be the only to remember
to remember the storm
to remember his face in the one of her son.

#three
(weathermen and the burden of being)

The last time we spoke it was raining
And with each passing drop the water level rose
I didn't even notice you were drowning
While I nodded my head and sounded grunts of intrigue
While you flailed your arms and were gasping for breath
The storms of life are silent to those who don't listen
And rainbows seldom occur
After jumping forty-seven feet.
Everyone's last home is wooden box
That has no need for flood insurance.

The man who reads the eulogy doesn't read
the weather reports of your last days.

The woman dressed in black has never been outside without an umbrella,
regardless if it rains or not.

The children still don't understand that their
father won't be home for dinner.

Though the storm has ended
no one remembers it's occurence.

inadvertant emualtions - emulations! of robert frost and ee cummings

2006-12-18T17:20:00.000-08:00

#one

I'm throwing up in buckets
and nobody even notices
the smell of a man's distress.
I doesn't matter what anyone
tells me, my vomit never tasted
like candy
but it's not all about the taste
and it's not all about the vomit.

There are mice or bats or some creature
in my attic
and even though I've set traps
and called exterminators
they still have not left.
I may have to catch them myself.
I may have to lay the traps
and destroy their homes.

But the attic is dark and dreary, deep
and it will be easier for me to sleep
and leave the critters to their peace.
Just leave the critters to their peace.

#two

ashamed)
Rain.

Falls.

Down.
(and so i am

#three

Danielle.
Danielle.
Danielle:
my memories are haunting me.
goodnight.

In order to fulfill my dreams I have kept from sleeping

2006-11-28T03:31:00.000-08:00

He glares at me
The way I sometimes glare at the moon
The way I sometimes shout and stamp my feet to the beauties of this world
It's good to know I am not alone

Often times
when clouds blanket the sun
(as if he needs to keep warm
as if he can just call in sick
as if he doesn't have a wife and kids to feed in the morning)
it's easy to forget we still have shadows.

The last train has just left the station.
I'm very sorry ma'am, you'll have to come back tomorrow.
No, there's nothing I can do about it
The trains run on their own pace
And I just sell the tickets.
But tomorrow is not much farther than a walk downtown.
If you hurry you may catch a glimpse of the sun setting on the city skyline.

2006-11-27T22:01:00.000-08:00

#one

Assignment: To write an argumentative essay that fully demonstrates the ideas and rhetorical strategy of argument/persuasion as discussed and practiced in class. The essay will be approximately 4-5 pages in length (150 points) and will follow the essay manuscript guidelines provided.

Two pages is all I have within me
and the essay should be five

"Aren't you supposed to be a writer?"

I thought I was until
I found writing is
sitting
and shitting
what other people want to hear
in beautiful, in english
and my english is ugly
you wouldn't sleep with her
even if you had a few drinks in ya.
I don't digest ideas as sliders.
I use adjectives sparingly
verbs only when required
and I think I've used an adverb once
no, twice
and literary techniques?
Out of the question.

I was never meant to be a poet
or even anything in the creative arts for that matter
I wasn't meant for great things
or small things
or much things
at all

All I know is I was meant
to grapple and hold
and dig my nails into your shoulders
and struggle and wince
and feel your flesh
your sandpaper ripping my fingers to shreds
and bleed and fall
and stay still
until
"one
two
three"
bell rings
crowd cheers.
He gets up, arms in the air
the ref grabs his right
but no one comes to solace me
I lay on the ground
upside down frowns are not really smiles
I see the cameras
bulbs flashing
and I can see that I am not fit
for their photographs
undeveloped film preserves no memories
I am but a whisper
through history
and a speck on a time line
of undefinable events
and carnival arrivals.

I haven't thought of suicide in nearly one year
and now its creeped back into my mind
and lingers like an after dinner fart
my brother giggles because of it
because of it I laugh so no one knows it was me
No one knows it was me two years ago
on the front page of the paper
on a hospital gurney
bloodied face
puffy eyes
broken legs,
No one knows it was me two years ago
and I have nearly forgotten.

No.

No, I haven't forgotten
I never forget.
The scars that surround me
are the bars of a cell.

I am not a writer.
You were right, anyway.
I will write, any way
I can.
And sleep in hopes of recurring dreams.

#two
("Here I am, an artist, with nothing to say but an urge to say something")

I was born
missing two legs and two arms
and a liver.

For legs were meant for walking
and arms were meant for working
and a liver for cleansing

And I can do none of these.

#three

Sometimes I write in the dark hoping some words or phrases appear when i turn the lights on. Words or phrases I wasn't aware had danced across the paper when I had no eyes to see them.

and the first blog ends...........
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NOW!