your chin’s at permanent rest..the eye of this beholder – 8/26/12

8/26/12 3:33am – 4/21/13 3:05pm

your chin’s at permanent rest upon your shoulder
to see what about me’s giving you the shivers
there is something about the way your lip quivers
when your beauty’s in the eye of this beholder

unknown as
“the eye of this beholder” & “i”
cody swann as
“a he who was who i wished was me”
, “he”, & “him”
zahira gutierrez as
“her” & “she”

i was on my way down an escalator
when i first & last heard her speak.
she told a he who was who i wished
was me, “i’m going to run to the
restroom before we go”.
it was inside of a two-story “sealed-
only” bookstore that i had been
following her (“them” by association)
for some time.
watching as she navigated aisles of
loosely alphabetized authors in search
of a last name that fell
somewhere between “m-p”.
her steps, although slow, were focused.
unlike most, she was not searching for
her head.
she was forward motion & i, like
everyone else, was a being suspended.

HE. was just trying to keep up with her.
the two of us had that in common.
i resigned myself to there being no
shot of catching up.
& THAT is where WE differed.
his appearance, it’s safe to say, was
what most would describe as classically
complete with this face that looked to
have been meticulously worked on by
some master sculptor.
which is where we secondly & also
sadly differed.
my face & body unfortunately looked
more like they were left in the oven too long.

i take shelter in knowing that the most
interesting thing about saps like him
(their looks usually) is the very thing
that they had the least say in.
to me it’s as pointless as priding yourself
in the name you were given.
don’t get me wrong she was gorgeous too,
but it did not end there.
it may have been that my hope sprang from
my observation that almost no one roots
for the guy like him.
it doesn’t seem right that the man already
blessed should have all of life’s great
inventions falling into his lap.
you don’t have to win the lotto to understand
the moral dilemma you’d have purchasing the
following week’s ticket.

there’s nothing quite like the simple joy
that can be took in walking up the
down escalator.
i considered it an exemplary form of
the most basic; day to day rebellion.
that day i took a particularly pleasant
set of steps when she gave him his cue
to separate & me my cue to follow.
they parted & he began to kill time
browsing the art history for dummies
searching for what i can only imagine
was the feeling of himself being made
i assumed it made no difference that
they were sealed if i had imagined
correctly about the front cover being
his usual stopping point.
any purchases of his i also assumed
were merely to validate a still-empty
bookshelf he had come to own.

the coast was as clear as it was ever
going to be.
she was not yet out of my sights & there
i was already retracing her steps toward
the women’s restroom.
on my walk i began to realize that i’d
spent all of my time thinking about how
to get her alone & now, closer than ever,
i hadn’t put much thought behind what
i was going to do or say to her.
i concluded that i was a spontaneous
enough guy to just feel it out in the
moment & wing it accordingly.
for proof of this just look at the way i
could derail my day at the sight of her.
although it could be argued that my
day was fruitless before her.

as i began to close the gap between us
i could hear the time between the sound
of her steps beginning to grow shorter.
we had ourselves a race..& i could not
help but wonder if she had sensed me
behind her.
& if she had i couldn’t get close enough
to see if the hairs on the back of her
neck were standing up.
she wound up beating me by a mile to
the finish line.
i was discouraged, but i knew it only
right to finish the race you started.
visualizing my prize, i rounded the final
corner that lead where the men & women’s
restrooms split off when suddenly i was
stopped dead in my tracks.

there she stood; leaning against the
ribbon unbroken.
she had to have been expecting company
since she had refused to pass through
the door.
i was completely thrown off of my game.
i could not even bring myself to play it
cool by entering the men’s restroom.
she had won what was perhaps the
easiest staring contest ever played.
i turned one hundred & eighty degrees
& began to run damage control through
my head.
if she looked she would have seen the
hairs standing on the back of my neck.
if she listened she would have heard the
sound of my steps growing shorter.

i made my way for the down escalator
knowing good & well that on this ride down
i would not be partaking in any simple joys.
i stepped on & began to let the machine
do my leg’s work for me.
i had only descended a couple steps when
i heard from behind me feet stepping on
& the sound of whispering.
not to my surprise it was them.
the guy was no tall glass of water so i
didn’t sweat it too much.
i could only laugh to myself when i glanced
back & caught a glimpse of him placing an
arm around her shoulder.
as if i would not have known she was
“his” otherwise.
i wondered if he only ever touched her
when other men were watching.
she must have what she thinks is a
very affectionate boyfriend.
i laughed to myself, to them, & at the
joy i’d take the rest of my way down.

heaven is a bathroom with a lock – 8/15/12












8/15/12 4am – 8/30/12 11:35pm

heaven is a bathroom with a lock

heaven is a bathroom with a lock
an entrance to an exit where
wasted water drowns out every knock
of flushed goldfish that come up for air

here time becomes change you can spare
spent watching how one arm can grow
but when knocking breaks me from prayer
then it’s back to the world below

it’s where something that’s good will go
if there’s one thing all heavens say true
the second’s the life you will owe
the second the lock turns on you

same hand; different thought
in this world my libido’s not

living conditions – 8/15/12

8/15/12 – 3/25/13 10:58pm

living conditions

“two spoonfuls! that’s it for me.”, she yelled from across the room.
the pot could not have been finished brewing more
than a couple seconds & already she was conducting.
i never liked how short she was  mornings,
but i knew my part & began to play it anyway.
the chime for the now finished pot started to fade & i picked up where it left off.

i pulled two mugs that were still wet from their last wash out of a cabinet
& poured us both a TALL cup.
partly because we could use it, but also to hide stains i’d left behind from yesterdays batch.
while i swept the stains under the rug my toaster did it’s best to walk it’s
usual thin line between edible to charred toast.
harmonies i didn’t know i was capable of were produced between the appliance
& myself at the raise of her wand.

the only thing left to do was the first thing she asked me to.
the hand i owned, but she now possessed made it’s way for the lid of the jar.
like a claw-machine’s arm, patiently aimed before release, my hand moved in & clasped the lid.
“success!”, i thought.
“& on her first try too.”, i said aloud.
confused she asked, “what’d you say?”
“how’s that coffee coming along?”
“christ”, i thought.
“about done”, i said.

i removed a half-heartedly sealed lid & at the time was, but should not have been
surprised by what greeted me.
what filled the jar was not only the sugar she desired to twice fill my spoon,
but also insects that shared a similar pallet.
specks of black pepper appeared to travel sporadically over those sweetened white hills.
each seemed to move as if it had it’s own randomized objective rather than working
towards any greater goal.

i expected nothing less really.
especially when i considered the living conditions i’d gradually become comfortable existing in.
“it’s the kind of thing” i told myself, “that just happens.”
i can’t say i didn’t enjoy the company, but i can say for sure the conductor
would not share my sentiments.
if i had had a fresh bag i would have gladly surrendered this jars-worth,
but it just wasn’t the case.

the spoon fell with my hand’s weight.
invading the white hills that for who knows how long had been called theirs.
this time with much less patience & grace than my claw impersonation .
i filled the spoon & brought it to about eye-level.
watching as grains of sugar bobbed back & forth from the insects making waves below.
i combed the spoons concave surface with a finger anywhere i spotted movement.
dropping as much sugar as “black pepper” while i felt my way around it’s surface.
i didn’t enjoy it, but i repeated this until i finally finished her first scoop.

based on the time it took alone to make sure she would not find caffeinated ants in the first scoop
i knew it wouldn’t be wise to shoot for a second.
i told myself, “as far as she knows there are two spoonfuls of sugar that definitely had no previous owners.”
“coffee’s ready!”, i yelled.
“finally..”, she said as she took her first anxiously awaited sip.
as she drank her lips puckered in tandem with a furling brow,
“this isn’t sweet at all!”, she said while spitting bitter coffee.
“you may be the only person iv’e ever met that could fuck up measuring two spoonfuls of sugar.”
i couldn’t be bothered to respond.
i could only keep my eyes on her mug as i watched specks struggling to stay afloat.
“the ants don’t seem to mind”, i thought.

immediate family – 8/8/12


immediate family

and no one can see through you
quite like the ones that grew you
but the line of know & knew you
is thinning

and so i wish to close this chapter
not happily, but ever after
as the new day surely captures
it’s beginning

and though i leave inspiration at that door
finding it was no worry of mine before
when i still knew that writing more was not winning

last meal of a nail-biter – 8/5/12

last meal of a nail-biter













8/5/12 9:43pm

last meal of a nail-biter

a hang nail is all that it takes
i won’t pretend it isn’t true
there’s no difference that it makes
it never stops at one chew

it’s just that it sticks out
much like a sore thumb does
which is coincidental no doubt
since that is where it was

there are nine that are fine
but all i see is the one
needle in this stack breaks the camels back
in no time the nine are none

but after twenty years spent with me
goodbye oldest habit of mine
from tonight august fifth at nine fourty-three
and forever in defense of the nine

a face to the feet – 8/3/12

8/3/12 12:30pm -3/26/13 3:37am

a face to the feet

i wait & watch as his shoes move beneath the walls of bathroom stalls.
the both of us are too afraid to make a sound.
we are two adults sitting on toilets side by side in silence.

out of boredom i begin memorizing the lower half of his body.
both of us just hope the other will withdraw from our standoff.
i’m not even sure why this could be awkward.

maybe i’ll see his shoes somewhere outside of these walls.
i should do my best to hide my footwear from his sight lines.
everyone else in here is too piss shy to break our vow of silence.

all we can do is listen to each others private sound effects.
his only sound is of his exiting.
i put a face to the feet of my neighbor.
he is my partner in total vulnerability.
i wonder if he’s doing the same.

account of a dream – 8/3/12

8/3/12 8:01pm

account of a dream

a bearded man who adorns a cloak throws me
onto the wet square ledges of a foreign citie’s market.
green translucent water drips down the ledges like tiny
waterfalls as i’m able to make use of them like public

i zig & zag while jumping from ledge to ledge all the
while passing the locals in their market.
the market is filled with food and what looks like
bronze shaped to candelabras and vases.
everyone stares in wonderment as i fly by.

the ledges lead me to what looks like an ancient crater
filled with water from the ledge run-off.
i eagerly dive into the water-filled natural disaster.
as i’m falling in i have what seems like a long time to
realize there is one giant whale shaped shadow in the
depths of the lake.

as soon as i hit the wet i am already scrambling to get out.
i’m not certain if the creature hears the thump of my landing.
i’m sure it resonates as only a drop in the massive crater.
i struggle and slip as i try to remove myself from the lake.

it seems as if the dirt and rocks around the edge just give
way at my touch.
the most i got out was maybe my leg over the edge before

strand – 8/3/12

8/3/12 1:30pm – 3:43pm


turn the page and there it is.
a strand from a reader before myself.
a petite bookmark left waiting.
guarding where he or she last was.
only to blow away at the return of it’s rightful owner.
it’s life fulfilled where left off is picked up.
but it’s not its’ owner who is greeting.
it is only i standing in the doorway without flowers.
staring through the keyhole of a DNA footprint.
invading the privacy of a fictitious character i’ve developed.
rifling through the trash searching for the question.
the question that hasn’t caught up to the answer.
the answer that’s taken the form of
a stray weightless strand.

how easy it would be for the wind
to show it mercy.
to sentence it to gravity rather than a life spent between
spine after spine of others’ expressions.
how easy it would be for me to do the same.
i’ve yet to even read from the mattress in which it lays.
staring past all of the words that lie with arms & legs entangled beside it.
each one calling me by name, but  none able to catch my eye more than the next.
out of focus extras set as a backdrop.
a strand of my own floats below to make acquaintance.
a place holder until I return.
a reminder i did not make it past the introduction?
the question catches up to the answer.

lose this day – 8/?/12


lose this day

my mouth is finding out what I’m thinking when my mind does.
never had a conversation with the intent of fixing something make me feel so bad.
for someone who considers themselves to be one of my best friends you somehow could not be further off base with my personality. you should stop listening to your gut. like an elderly person out of tune who can’t relate. it’s frightening how little you actually know about me.
i would never do what you did to me
i don’t know that i’m turning left until it happens. i spend all my time hiding it just to now have to explain it to you. collecting my thoughts just to spill them all at once.
i had to get out of that place.
why didn’t i say it then?
it hardly makes sense to say it now.
it can’t be considered a comeback.
i don’t need you to build me up.
i overheard someone say it feels like the walls are caving in. you are making me feel crazy. i don’t feel comfortable talking with anyone right now. i’m trying to take myself out of the situation, but it feels like quicksand. the window is closed.
do you feel accomplished?
your perceptions of me as a person are..
i don’t feel very good about us.
i’m not sure if that conversation helped you,
but the more i think about it it hurts me how shady of a person you think i could be.
i’m not trying to catch you off guard.
not looking for an apology.
no friend of mine has ever tried to dissect.
i’m not sound as of now.
i want to lose this day.
the dog asleep.

possesion – 8/1/12

8/1/12 5:51am

(it is 5:51am)

dreamt i was in a weird house.
i wanted to leave for some reason.
when we walked outside three people were being arrested
for hitting a police vehicle.
the man was resisting arrest trying to break handcuffs
cops take us and show us these people who are doing this stuff
and playing satanic music.
in the dream music and voices start droning.
i turn over on my back, which i never do, and with my arm across
my face, in zahira’s room which I’ve never slept in, i start to feel
pressure being applied to my body especially around my arm.
i notice i’m breathing out of my mouth which i also never do.
i hear the sound of creaking which i deduce is zahira turning
over in her bed.
she is also making sounds.
it felt like she could have been standing over me, but I’m pretty
sure she wasn’t.
at this point i start to think i’m going through some sort of possession ritual.
i feel like i could move if i tried, but i don’t.
i just let it keep happening.
eventually i decide to stop it and open my eyes even although i thought they
were already open.
the circular image combined with light and shadows i had seen while staring up
still remain, but are fading.
the images formed from shadows looked like snarling jackolantern cut outs.
maybe intermission.
now i sit under the blanket typing this.
i’m sweating a lot and my stomach is making weird noises.
lastly my arm is very sore (the one that was laying across my face).
maybe i had been “dreaming” longer than I had realized.
now i’m going to take the blanket off of my face and hope there isn’t a face staring
at me on the other side.
my eyes will be closed so i won’t know either way.
it is 5:51am.
maybe it means the van got broken into.
here goes.