dramatization – 1/25/13

1/25/13 11am
recreated:
1/26/13 5:20pm – 2/15/13 1:15am

dramatization

I
dramatization

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

II
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

III
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

the miracle of flight – 1/23/13

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
avenue.

from sea to shining sea.

lose this day iii – 1/18/13

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

a son of present – 1/18/13

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

put to bed – 1/12/13

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

the absurd short-term – 1/10/13

1/10/13 1:24am – 1/10/13 9:14pm

the absurd short-term
(gravity; ivory keys)

she cant remember what it was
before she woke she was thinking of
she just remembers the sudden sound
gravity; ivory keys; books hitting ground

the second my grip just let it drop
i realized it was too late to stop
the second spent in a state of shock
kicked down her door without a knock

it took her out of the space inside
where the absurd short-term gets left behind
it took damn near a heart attack
but already she’s on her way back

cayton st. I – 1/9/13

1/9/13 11:27am – 1/9/13 12pm

cayton st. I

there’s an empty grey-green warehouse with a wooden bunk-bed against it’s back wall.
the bed’s top bunk holds dark throw pillows, a talking cobra, & a talking hand inside a sock puppet snake.
on my right (the two snake’s left) is an open wall which leads out of the warehouse to the driveway of
7610 cayton st. houston, tx 77061.
the snake & “snake” taunt me as they slither between the throw pillows.
i do my best to behead the cobra with a tennis racket, but everytime come up short by..the hand of sock snake decoy.
the cobra, distracted by it’s own taunting, leaves me an opening to move in for the kill & i do.
intermission.

only calling – 1/9/13

1/9/13  12:10am -1/9/13 3:17pm

only calling

i’m only calling to distract myself from writing
while driving.
you were my way out & you couldn’t be there.
i can’t expect you to drop everything just to help
me home.

these fluids that drip from me onto the page &
then onto the floor are only mine to slip in.
now tell me why i could never control it starting
before & why i can not control it stopping now.

she asked me, “more coffee?”, at precisely 6:54pm – 1/9/13

1/9/13 5:06pm – 1/9/13 6:54pm

she asked me, “more coffee?”, at precisely 6:54pm

i came here to eat today like i’ve done almost every
week since i was nine to ten years old.
but today i may actually tip more than a dollar.
i’d never met lucy before but i’d like very much
to make thisa regular thing.
she gave me plenty of time to make my executive
menu decision.
even though my stalling was merely a plot to consume
as many chips & salsa as possible in one sitting.
i got my space to “deliberate”, ordered my grease burrito
with a soda  & requested a refill on my chips and salsa.
she must have known what i was up to, because my order
got to me quicker than one man could possibly finish a
second basket of chips.
no refill for me, but a touché for her.
i downed the meal with my left hand pruning from the
grease run off & my right hand pruning from the
condensation of my glass.
“what a girl!”, i thought.
“i’ll be sure to tip her how i feel” (two dollars was all
that i could spare).
“was everything alright?”, Lucy asked.
“yeah everything was great. could i just get the check
and a basket of chips?”
she obliged and i continued with my regiment of
dissapointment in a basket.
i got to reading & chomping and very soon an
hour slipped past me.
“would you like anything else sir?”, said a voice.
only this time it wasn’t lucy.
it was a waitress i had grown less & less fond of
over the years.
“no i’ll be fine, but thank you”, my body cried out
in submission at my loss to  chips.
i was just about ready to work what i once called
a body out of the chair.
“okay, well let me know if you need anything”,
she squawked while scribbling on my receipt.
she walked away and i snatched the receipt.
she had scratched out my lucy’s name and beside
it written in her own, yvonne!
finally a name to the service i so wished to avoid
everytime i stopped in.
but more importantly how could she think she
could pull one over on lucy and just take her tips?
i was obviously winding down and wouldn’t be in
need of her assistance!
i couldn’t imagine lucy having done anything to
deserve it so i assumed yvonne must be the kind
of lady who’d sell her own wedding band to keep
the lights on.
“i just wont tip!”, i said to myself.
but could i be certain that the tips would not go to lucy?
the worst thing that could happen would be to not tip
and lucy never want to wait on me again.
i’d only just met her.
i cant let this already be the end.
i did some critical thinking and concluded that i
couldn’t risk not tipping.
if yvonne had the nerve to say she did more than just
wait to take my tips then god damn it i’ll make sure her
name is written in bold letters on that receipt.
for lucy of course..
i finally waved yvonne down after a few failed attempts
naturally.
“i’ll have a coffee, some chips & salsa, and a new receipt please”
i tipped A dollar anyway.

honest up until recent – 1/8/13

1/8/13 10:44pm – 1/9/13 2:46am

honest up until recent

as you, ladybug, crawl all around my
hand you point out the parts of me
more sensitive to touch.

with my eyes closed i can see you
through contact crawling from my
pointer finger toward center palm.

with my eyes open i find it hard to
believe your getting around on my palm
without the slightest sensation triggered.

your weight registers as worthy of
reporting to only a percentage of limbs
considered honest up until recent.