Tuesday, August 26, 2008

do i look slightly cross-eyed here? well, look, i have been working on somethings:

i been working hard

Monday, August 25, 2008

i realized last night and again this evening that i should have put this sumatran song on your mix tape. and i walked home on the brick part of the sidewalk on cumberland, the part where, late at night as i make tight fists and walk briskly, i imagine who might be lying in those black black shadows there. could be passed right out, or waiting in the lurch. what if i ran from him, i think, kicked his face, ah, with the satisfaction of self-reliance, and it turned out he was the last victim, waiting for a kind soul? but anyway, i walked there (it wasn't dark yet, and i didn't worry over the shadows this particular time) and imagined your walk, in your boots, that dress you wore the other night.

it's like i've been appreciating your idiosyncracies (i've misspelled this word, sorry) for twenty five years. i know, you haven't been alive quite that long, and i've only known you for one or two. but whoah, you're great.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

the biiki machine

a new word with ohmy own spelling. i learned life lessons today straight off of the birdtheme.

asked, does that answer my question? laughed

okay, and something i can just ramble about here, now that i think of it: the most pervasive nostalgia, romantic and more each evening. the wind blowing into drafty windows, cool, falltime. listened to nothing, how? but leaves scraping on asphalt, wind again and cold air, running down a sidewalk to let you in the squeaky gate, closed windows rattling, waking up to curtains brushing against my face, back and forth, alone in bed, every night

one year before, blanker on the memories. i was closed in a room, wanting to walk in a door and feel alone, hearing wind rattle window frames, a dark bedroom with a window facing a brick wall, drinking whiskey in the kitchen. formatted a pleasing imagination

and one year's fall we sat on the rooftop i touched your elbow, a cashmere sweater. you touched my shoe and i felt it all the way through to my skin. we got cold, went inside. i touched your face in the fall, in the front yard, the leaves scraped again

Sunday, August 17, 2008

still morning

things are looking different, well, back in town. trying to get mad, and lacking the luster for it. because, okay, i am happy. sunburned and healed, saltwater bath, sun sand wash. teeveedeedeeveedee drones, who is happy to be home?

i remember memories, actively and with purpose. like a certain dress, early mornings, rain when i enjoyed it, in it, accidental mentionings of trivialities, but who could forget the fuel for a most pathetic flareup? the sun will, every day and today, creep onto my windowsill. a betterway to waste it.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

a few hours and i was ovverdrugged; and convinced, almost, that i liked it. riding circle for circle along the river, four years ago was a romantic time. the night itself, dewy, i think, setting the mood for the hours to come, sleepy dreams of idon'tknowwhat, completely unremarkable except that now i know my brain. not sure if i have a bad attitude, i wonder if i need to apologize. and although i could have slept more hours, the sleepy part of the night seemed lost, and i woke myself up, eventually. more dreams, coming through, mundane but notable, and you whimpered again, at what?

Friday, August 8, 2008

one article of cloth, morning sunshine hidden to lead me to believe ina cool day ahead, watched as someone watched me water the plants, new passtime for each of us), cold raining on my feet, muddy, dirt, sleepy eyes half closed, serenest part of the day

Saturday, August 2, 2008

the most romantic things in life

if you get bored, of this, stop reading:
i have made a list for august, and making it i remembered back on a few weeks a few years ago when i woke in the summer sunshine and laid in my bed, with a bright pink blanket, while i wrote three pages of only half-awoken ideas (about the past, and more recently the night before, still coming back minute by minute) each day. i didn't manage to record a time of starting, but seeing back it sounds like i thrilled myself to pieces by sleeping through the late afternoon, waking in time for the cooled darkness, and slept until wheneveri liked. for days at a time, no, really?

a few years later, now. i have laughed to tears and just cried, plainly, todayy or yesterday. felt great, that range of madness.