Author: Cody Swann

12/12/12 12:10pm – 12/14/12 10:32am

sheer accident
(the unrealized title)

to say there is nothing left to be said
goes against everything those before us
spoke of.
t is the letter of the alphabet my left hand
accidentally typed.
o-d-a-y are the letters i will follow it with,

because today whether by sheer accident
or divine fate marks occurred events that
will mold us in a way that only today can.
the sweetest songs to have never been
written are to be wrote some day by today.

most of us haven’t the conscious effort
to process it’s bigger picture until
tomorrow is already with us.
m is the letter of the alphabet fate
working through my right hand typed
o-o-d are the letters it will follow it with.

because mood is today carried with us.
the unrealized title given to unslept
upon feelings.
& if the only noise we make of these
feelings is of those before us rolling in
their graves or of those after us rolling
in their wombs it is at least a new noise.

12/12/12 9:52am – 12/13/12 2:30am

what i at second erase
(fathered them all)

well whose words are they if not mine?
in my second guessing it is only myself
denying myself.
if i value what i at very first wrote i
must value what i at second erase.

who am i now to predict the flatness of
notes not yet pushed out?
from the lungs, to the vocal chords, to
the tongue, to the lips leaves plenty of
room for deviations from the planned.

are they not all welcome in my home?
from the flattest lows to the sharpest
highs i’ve fathered them all.
they may have entered by window, but
are free to unlock the front door.

whose signiature is nowhere to be
found when the sound of their own
voice is played back?
if i value what i at very first wrote
i must value what i at second speak.

12/11/12 1:20am – 12/12/12 1:16am

not to talk about the weather
(the fat of my day to day)

not to talk about the weather, but my
breath’s become visible once again.
this is the only time of the year it
proves it’s own existence.

more than anything else minute i hate
the dull biting of the cold.
my body’s heat does it’s best to bounce
between fabric & flesh in defense.

enjoyment is taken out of what few
every day tasks i look forward to.
the fat of my day to day; trimmed
to reduce exposure.

conversations; cut short to waving
hello & goodbye in one swift motion.
my stride longer; my head down;
together in distancing the elements.

showers; few & far between.
layers; leaving empty hangers behind.
iced drinks; losing their appeal.
pets; wearing dumb miniature sweaters.

flu shots; readily available.
distant family; less distant.
visibility of my breath is no consolation.
you can not pass soon enough.

12/8/12 10:46am – 12/8/12 12:55pm

complimenting furniture

these glasses allow me a chance to see
my surroundings for what they are.
removing them more than crosses my
mind.

they do look much better resting on
this table than they do upon my nose.
complimenting furniture instead of bone
structure.

the red indentation their weight leaves
between my eyes stands as a reminder
of where they once sat.
to view it more than crosses my eyes.

in it’s fading i see the absurdity of not
wearing what’s not trying to hide in
plainsight.
inducing headaches to humor myself.

not knowing which way to view it is a
good problem to have.
with eyes much bigger than a stomach
before & after glass magnified.

with & without are giving me a
headache in their own ways.
the lines blurred both literally &
metaphorically are my own doing.

12/8/12 10:35am – 12/9/12 11:44am

an old address

losing my place on the page restarts me,
but on the wrong foot.
the awkward moment when you can’t
be certain if here is where you left off.

never can you get back what the initial
break in concentration took.
returning to an old address in hopes of
keys finding familiar locks.

the page reads differently than it did
before the accident.
neither worse or better than before.
just different.

12/8/12 6:11pm – 12/11/12 1:15am

got me pegged
(having a laugh beneath their breath)

no man or woman should ever be made
to feel any less for not meeting a gender
specific description.
feminine & masculine are two words
that mean far more now than they did
when they were first spoke.

words that were only meant to help
paint a picture are now backing us into
corners instead.
are there not enough corners to paint
ourselves into without having to resort
to using language against ourselves?

the way that we are dressed can’t
possibly be the most interesting part of
their day.
if so then i am afraid that they are in
great need of a muse to amuse
whatever void we are filling.

being asked by my significant other to
briefly hold a purse does not embarrass
me, but a phantom feeling goes through
the motions.
reminding me of what at one time i
was made to feel.

to think of her or anyone’s load not
lightened for the sake of what others
might say to themselves.
what terrible use of a watchful eye to
look for those who might have a laugh
beneath their breath.

the only thing that would keep us is
the threat of anticipating others.

12/4/12 1:43pm -12/8/12 3:33am

self-portrait in disguise
(the something that i said)

though he tried to hear you out
it’s come out a self-portrait
waiting for moving lips to stop
to start as soon as yours shut

turning words into a mirror
when it’s not her turn just yet
your catching her reflection
no matter the surface met

he never seems to know
because he does not care to ask
seeing the most that he could hope
wearing his own face as a mask

please extend a helping hand
while we’re hanging by a thread
but she’s in the mood to sew
from the something that i said

12/3/12 1:18pm – 12/5/12 5:46pm

fellow others

before the day gets too far ahead of
itself & i can no longer gladly finish my
sentences i’d like to take this moment
to enjoy my company.

a certain selective hearing is what
has gone missing from my afternoons
amongst fellow others.
until found the morning becomes a bag
for reaching into rather than filling.

12/3/12 5:01am – 12/3/12 5:09am

purely present

in the times i should be thinking the
most about what to say i am making
my thoughts purely present.

at the moment the thought is
conceived.
so too is the position of my lips to push
out the sound.

always i look forward to the
side-tracking of myself, by myself, for
myself in my less put together  moments.

12/2/12 2:02pm – 4/16/13 12:04pm

the last time (?)

this story isn’t going to get itself straight
and until it is everything will have to wait

gluing my lids shut is as far as i’ll plan
and not watch as i become a religious man

i’m playing dead for my life
until the sun creeps in
i’m playing dumb if the light
doesn’t come before then

i am only sorry that i almost got caught
and it scares me to think what’ll happen if not

the last time was going to be the last time
and so on and so forth could all stop on a dime