hey, it's nice to turn off the self-critic for awhile and
see what comes out. not totally unpleased i am.
i to tell youself story?
oh, to know what you're doing,
to choose the necessary act
in a way you can see,
it is the maze free enough to navigate
because its walls are hedges,
because there are birds and friendly dark,
you will not fear eternal hunger
you will not scenario death
you will let it lose you in its hours
you will keep your faith
with equal parts mind and heart.
here it is --
(mm the excitement in writing this down
realize to write is to know where you're going
to hard to say it)
the task should something you know, you know
among the things already you know, you know
among the contents of us
or the things we can learn.
the things that are learning, to me.
yes it makes me try for them --
not frightened through the pores.
here it is --
to try to write a poem
to sketch it, and --
it has a beginning and an end
and is made of a stand of wood
too strong to fall down
in its i m a g i n a r i n e s s.
do you and i, we speak a different language?
to eachother? and even more you to you
as we unmoor ourselves in time,
and even more i to i oh --
--can it even be said
how pretty those letters
unallowed but like a beach
stepping into water they
but for use-and-not-altogether-lost
the leaves change substance,
awaying themselves to goodbye
and yet, here i can find old path
to yes, read me the story i know already,
says the fair child,
for it is in my heart.
years later other endless stories
in their being become the heart
if you could turn your eyes to read them.
mm, the child agrees, years later
mm, the child agrees, years later
over compromises and tea.
bow the head without shame
to the task of our own completion,
to those roundnesses
to the gladdening of my thoat
as telling a story to myself
comes on with forgiveness.
December 13, 2001
some rather
cute
pictures of me and lovely josh marcus.
November 3, 2001
where's
my ambition gone?
August 15th, 2001
i have now a webcam. voyeurism ho!
June 4, 12:10 pm
i'm going cliff jumping on saturday, at some unwieldy place called
connedogo, conshehoggo, something of that sort. should be fun.
delightful company.
April 10, 9:59 pm
i don't actually know if it's 9:59
pm. all the clocks at work are inconsistent with each other. anyway,
i'm all distraught about my depression which makes me depressed and
distraught. self perpetuating cycle of navel-gazing. what the... maybe
setting things on fire would help. or people. yeah. setting people on
fire always seems to do the trick.
march 16, 12:04 pm
my new
favorite music
person guy face is john fahey. yeah.
march 14, 10:37 pm
vote with your wallet.
lately i've been savoring spite and its obsessive winged cousins. you
have to decide to get over someone and
i
don't want to get over you. a piece of shite on
that:
friday, february 16, 2001
two am
so. i finally couldn't stand my homepage any longer. i at least needed
some new wrapping paper. so here it is, complete with this poem.
yes i regret that tattoo she said
not so much that
the skin around was black and cracked
and, alone all day on the divan
she noticed that small areas closed in cracks
were black and wet, like cake or animal loam,
not so much that
but was embarassed of it, careful
never her with telltale bandages
she covered her elbow all summer long,
sleeves hucked like corn,
and even a new coy shyness to match the modesty
but she wanted to talk to him about change,
the friendly glint and all,
and tempted to apologize in the old way swallowed instead
knowing to rub salt in wounds and yes,
we have a winner here folks:
the afflicted lash themselves
at any given opportunity, what a ride
they take in the back,
drawling it out to our spectacle
again and again.
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