1/31/13 12:27am – 2/23/13 8:45pm
(undressing them before her eyes)
looking is fine, the thin line was getting caught
one of the guys; my eyes have fallen from grace
how can it be that she is holding that thought?
& where does she keep it if not on her face?
that look of disgust you would think i did cause
if it ever was there it’s without a trace
the patience she’s shown deserves some applause
she took my bad taste & found it a place
on a tongue with dried blood of my past faux pas’
1/30/13 11:25am – 1/30/13 12:35pm
one to talk
(my life you’ve turned into a laugh)
(a man sitting on a park bench is reading his favorite
childhood book when he spots an old friend walking
up out of the corner of his page)
“randy?! is that you?”
“in the flesh” (arms open)
“my god man how have you been?”
“i’m doing real well man. newly single,
looking for a place, but i got a nice job.
just punched in actually. can’t wait to be off.”
“but we are outside at a park..where did you punch in?”
“right here buddy” (points to head & taps twice)
“well what did you start your own business or something?”
“in a way..yeah” (palms up tilting them back & forth)
“so what do you do now?”
“oh, i steal books. man it’s great work.
easy way to make a hard livings what i say, haha.
that’s what i’m always saying! haha” (laughing profusely)
“so you are “clocked in” right now?”
(waving quotation fingers exaggeratively)
“yeah, man i am.. (staring intently without blinking).
why don’t you make it easy for the both of us & just give
me that copy of sideways stories from wayside school?”
“c’mon man! why not? are you holding it for your kid or
something? i don’t care what he or she says they wouldn’t
enjoy it as much as i would”
“wait..what? i dont have a kid! it’s a good book! this things
got replay value.
& your just going to sell it. how could you possibly enjoy
it as much as even my supposed child?”
“well geez man i didnt mean anything by it. most people
i steal from don’t seem to get this upset about a missing
book to tell you the truth. you can go ahead and keep
your kiddy book if you’d like” (spoken sincerely)
“it’s a good book for the last time. i’d gladly give it to you
when i’m done rereading to prove you wrong if i knew you
werent going to just sell it.
tell me this how does a guy like you fall into peddling stolen
books anyways? is the union better than it was down with
the fellows who stole packing peanuts?” (working himself
to a chuckle after frustration)
“hey man, thats my life you’ve turned into a laugh. times
are tough man.
& if you think i’m a crook you should see what those clowns
at half-price books are paying me for them”
“why don’t you steal something with a little more trade-in value?
hardly seems worth the time stealing books when you don’t get much
for them. but you’ll get in just as much trouble if your caught. let me
think..like don’t you want to steal this phone?”
“oh no, stef’s the phone girl around here. i wouldn’t dare step on her
toes. there’s a level of artistic integrity us petty thieves try to stay
bottomed out at. it’s pretty low, but we ain’t getting lower. besides i
think i could really make a name for myself as the book thief around
here. i’m not sure if i’d be appreciated in my time, but most of the
greats never were. but if it were all about fame i’d probably just be
another diamond heist guy. i even have a brainstorming session
scheduled later just to come up with a good nick-name for
when they write about me in the papers”
“i guess.. i get what your saying” (phones gone missing by now)
“well hey man i really hate asking for anything. especially on
account of im just used to stealing from people all day,
but do you have any change you could spare? a cigarette?
books? haha, just kidding referential joke”
“i may have some change (digging through pocket). you
know i love to help where i can. you know the malt liquor
you’re probably going to buy costs $3.89, but you could get
a library card for free”
“that a fact? man here i am reaching into the pockets of
the working man when i could be taking from those pigs
over in washington”
“i work over at the library you know”
“& i’ll be seeing you very soon”
“right..well here’s a dollar”
“thanks buddy. your a real pal” (cutting off other fellow)
“actually do you have change for the dollar?”
“yeah..i mean yeah.”
“could you just give me back a quarter?”
“yeah. sure sure”
“you know they raised the damn toll prices to a $1.25 now.
can you believe it? those vampires will just about try anything
to bleed my wallet these days. I always need to keep a silver
on me just in case. you understand”
“holy hell do i. i mean i steal books, but i’d have the gun
to my head from the days start to finish if i had that job.
as opposed to just having a gun to my head once we are
done here to days finish”
“yeah, you are one to talk”
1/28/13 3:30am – 1/28/13 4:02am
god’s gift to paper
you don’t just do these things to give
yourself something to look at.
i didn’t wake up one day feeling bad
about the way paper was being treated.
i was never god’s gift to paper.
there is no prize for disabling the
happiness derived from sleep.
nobody is keeping track of how many
words are crossed out.
if all of this rings true & i believe it you
may be certain that i have no trophy’s
in need of the shining, no sympathy for
the mirror, no name worth the capital letter,
no bed kept waiting without the reason,
& no ink in need of the fading.
1/28/13 2:28am- 1/28/13 3:01am
recording such a mood
it scares me to think that i may have
actually killed myself had i not been
able to recover my work.
the past six months weigh more than
the past five years.
& i’d have traded in however many
were still to come if my load had lightened.
to have felt suicidal feels silly.
i’m embarrassed even.
i’m half-way to a panic attack when i
should be fast asleep.
i don’t even know who’s talking anymore.
i’d just as soon pop another zit instead
of writing this if i could find one.
if i looked hard enough i know i could.
my mother wanted to die, but i didn’t
i don’t figure it would be right to not
practice what i’ve preached.
what is all this?
i took more satisfaction in popping that
zit than i do in recording such a mood.
we may be coming to the realization at
the same time, but its become apparent
that i was never writing to satisfy.
i am writing more for comfort.
more for distraction.
more for direction.
more for perspective.
more to eliminate exaggeration.
i know that if i sit here long enough
eventually i will start to sound more &
more like myself.
whoever started i am certain will not
whoever he is i owe it to him to at
least record his mood.
more for him.
less for myself.
1/28/13 3:04am – 1/28/13 3:27am
missing what i’m missing
what did i really lose?
i don’t remember truthfully.
how can i mourn the loss of what i
how can it be reported?
there’s no description to give of what
who would believe that i was ever mine?
what created it is still around.
it’s the indian searching for the arrow
to find the indian.
rather what have i gained?
there is an equal distribution to these
my loss will pay for itself i no time.
i’m getting even.
1/26/13 5:20pm – 2/15/13 1:15am
in the off chance your drawing me
i’ll go ahead and write about you
i know you well with rolled up sleeves
legs crossed, sketch pad, & jeans blue
i have caught your eye & mine’s on you
but we can’t let red hands turn us blue
i will if you will sit still for me
like you there’s nothing under my rolled sleeves
replacing by retracing
(the magician’s secrets willingly revealed)
this setting was built by the replacing
of stepping i’d done with a retracing
everything above a copy at best
a sorted out educated guess
who i built from scratch i did my best
to restore in full all through replacing
but your’s is as good as is my guess
if his former-self holds up through retracing
so well for so long
memory can only serve you so well for so long
before your only certain of having it all wrong
but easily all certainty
will come flooding back if he
sits still just this twice for me
as i did while i was drawn
1/23/13 4pm – 1/23/13 5pm
recreated 1/26/13 5:20pm
the miracle of flight
how beautiful the sight is of one
piloting an airplane for one.
how disturbing the sight is of the
advertisement seen tailing close behind.
the subtle reminder that a place does
exist where i can feed my appetite for
both food & women.
the miracle of flight reduced to another
from sea to shining sea.
1/18/13 12:55pm – 2/4/13 1:14am
lose this day iii
i am trying to lose this day
& that is what i am going to do
you won’t be able to reach me for now
& i can’t say we’ll be in touch soon
i know this day only seems to creep by
it comforts me none knowing it could fly
if it so chose eleven fifty-nine
pm to trade places with noon
i wish to be the dog lying around
barely aware of my owner’s rhyme
only concerned with the meal that’s to come
fed by the hand that would give me the time
then i’d make it to midnight easily
all good today would not be lost on me
if i’d lay still until i’m eventually
moved by no wrist that would give me the time
1/18/13 3:09pm -1/23/13 2pm
a son of present
your on your way to the next word
thinking of the last
return to me a son of present
taken with the past
no more to me are you to be
some child of what’s history
taking wind out of your sails to see
if ever you had the mast
1/12/13 2:45am – 1/12/13 5:10am
put to bed
pin point the moment holding her
hand stopped delivering arousal
can you still see the place?
the time on your watches face?
when & wherever the setting may be
it was the ending of the chase
nothing stands out as very different
about that day
it was nothing she did or said
nothing that she wrote or read
that just happened to be the day it
was put to bed