There's something about the way she says goodbye
that feels as if she's already gone.
I want to make her happy so I'll lie
about what it is that we've become.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Ridged
Twice I put my hand out,
let my wrist rest on the oak rail.
Rain fell in doses
splaying cosmic betrayal onto my palms.
I stared at the world reflected into half-domes
and saw rifles pointed at my life lines.
Remember when you told me
that suffering was the by-product
of growth,
as we stood at the window
saluting the parade of firetrucks?
There are stretch marks underneath your eyes.
There are masks stretched tightly around your arms;
a bandit's bicep.
There are days when you manage shake souls
as well as hands.
There are two letters in your name
that don't belong.
Twice I put my hand out,
turning my knuckles upward
into mountains.
let my wrist rest on the oak rail.
Rain fell in doses
splaying cosmic betrayal onto my palms.
I stared at the world reflected into half-domes
and saw rifles pointed at my life lines.
Remember when you told me
that suffering was the by-product
of growth,
as we stood at the window
saluting the parade of firetrucks?
There are stretch marks underneath your eyes.
There are masks stretched tightly around your arms;
a bandit's bicep.
There are days when you manage shake souls
as well as hands.
There are two letters in your name
that don't belong.
Twice I put my hand out,
turning my knuckles upward
into mountains.
Forty Nine Times: a Grieving Process.
Bright Red, Golden Yellow
He lives in Blue night while the lanterns introduce Red.
He creates Red.
Yellow like her skin, Red like her bruises
Its not that he creates Red.
He controls Red.
In Blue, Truth comes out.
In Red, both past and future.
Blue like the broken old man.
Blue like cold old legs.
Red as the powder of a miscarriage.
Blue as the laughter of the society of men.
A song about dogs:
"it ends in horn playing
when the inevitable enters one's home
all you can do
is play the horn frivolously!"
and so he drowns in Red.
with his son in Blue standing over the pool where the long cloth falls
it spreads over the surface
then slowly sinks.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Mariott Moments
[MARIOTT LOGO]
[MARIOTT MOMENTS BROUGHT TO YOU BY BRIDGEWATER MARIOT]
{cut}
Jerry Linedale : I'm short order cook in the kitchen here at the Bridgewater Mariott.
{cut}
Jerry Linedale : I cook all the food on the late night menu....except paninis! [beat] So don't you go a orderin one when I'm around [laughs]
{cut}
Jerry Linedale :I just graduated. Now I only have to stay in the kitchen. I used to have to deliver the food too!
{cut}
Jerry Linedale : To pass the time I would write songs about the meals I prepared. When I arrived at the room I would sing them to the guest before handing them their food.
{cut}
Jerry Linedale : One time I wrote a six minute song.
{cut}
Ronny Gordon, Associate Manager: Jerry is {break in the tape} exceptional
{cut}
Jerry Linedale : You would be hardpressed to find a better grilled cheese sandwhicher in Somerset County.
{cut}
Ronny Gordon, Associate Manager: That's im- {break in tape} quotas need filling.
{cut}
Jerry Linedale : Sometimes guests walk the sanwhiches back to me. They say "Here Jerry, you have it, have it so that you know what it is lik- {break in tape}
{cut}
Ronny Gordon, Associate Manager: statistically night shifts receive less complain- {break in tape} guests are exhausted. [smile]
{cut}
Jerry Linedale: -ike. If thats not satisfaction I don't know what is.
{cut}
Ronny Gordon, Associate Manager: We are dedicated to satisfaction.
{Cut}
[MARIOT MOMENTS BROUGHT TO YOU BY BRIDGEWATER MARIOTT]
[MARIOTT LOGO]
Monday, January 11, 2010
What We Talk About
When we are by ourselves
in order to make sense of the smashed up
glassware still on the kitchen floor
Our voice rises with our excitement
realizations and revelations
I am free of it.
You are free of it.
Someone will clean up the baby carrots
under the table
We're all filled with it.
When no one is listening
soft melodies inside our cracked lips
remember sunlight through the branches
of the city's freeways
Do you know how the boardwalk held us all
above the frozen bathwater?
Our heads heavy with our words
Our laughter crashing on the wood.
Behind us the West Coast
burned eternal
inside rolling hillside
windows
in order to make sense of the smashed up
glassware still on the kitchen floor
Our voice rises with our excitement
realizations and revelations
I am free of it.
You are free of it.
Someone will clean up the baby carrots
under the table
We're all filled with it.
When no one is listening
soft melodies inside our cracked lips
remember sunlight through the branches
of the city's freeways
Do you know how the boardwalk held us all
above the frozen bathwater?
Our heads heavy with our words
Our laughter crashing on the wood.
Behind us the West Coast
burned eternal
inside rolling hillside
windows
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