50 years ago they
were married,
Brooklyn NY & a
church with dancing.
Two years later Hawaii
became the 50th state.
Now they visit
in celebration of passing time
& bring coconut banks &
hula dolls back
for all their grandchildren.
17 December 2006
02 December 2006
early mornings in the house my father built
early morning and the sound of my dad's work shoes on the kitchen floor
leaving behind my great-grandmother's quilted coccoon for
orange slice shadows in the hallway and the cold wooden banister gripped
with tiny fingers so i wouldn't slip on the stairs in my
red flannel footie pajamas that haven't asked me to grow up, yet
six a.m. and bleary-eyed, my dad and his brief case in the kitchen
reading from a box of raisin bran with milk spilled on his tie
all grown up with three kids and a house he built himself
my mom still upstairs in their bed sleeping in his warm imprint
bright kitchen light and heat from the woodstove hot on my cheeks
standing on the botton stair, my voice squeeky with leftover sleep
my messy hair, curly like his, smoothed by his freckled hand
my dad calls me by a nickname that tells me i haven't grown up, yet
putting his brief case on the counter and cereal bowl in the sink
the volkswagen rabbit running rough, warming up, waiting for my dad
padding butter on a slice of white bread for me, crumbs fall snowy
on the sleeve of his navy blue suit, the one my mom says matches his eyes
early mornings i woke up for bread and butter and orange air
my grandmother's quilted coccoon waiting warm for me to return
with crumbs on my footie pajamas and a calmer collection of curls
after sharing my dad with the hot woodstove and quiet house
now i wake early mornings grown up, listening to my own work shoes on the kitchen floor
leaving behind my great-grandmother's quilted coccoon for
orange slice shadows in the hallway and the cold wooden banister gripped
with tiny fingers so i wouldn't slip on the stairs in my
red flannel footie pajamas that haven't asked me to grow up, yet
six a.m. and bleary-eyed, my dad and his brief case in the kitchen
reading from a box of raisin bran with milk spilled on his tie
all grown up with three kids and a house he built himself
my mom still upstairs in their bed sleeping in his warm imprint
bright kitchen light and heat from the woodstove hot on my cheeks
standing on the botton stair, my voice squeeky with leftover sleep
my messy hair, curly like his, smoothed by his freckled hand
my dad calls me by a nickname that tells me i haven't grown up, yet
putting his brief case on the counter and cereal bowl in the sink
the volkswagen rabbit running rough, warming up, waiting for my dad
padding butter on a slice of white bread for me, crumbs fall snowy
on the sleeve of his navy blue suit, the one my mom says matches his eyes
early mornings i woke up for bread and butter and orange air
my grandmother's quilted coccoon waiting warm for me to return
with crumbs on my footie pajamas and a calmer collection of curls
after sharing my dad with the hot woodstove and quiet house
now i wake early mornings grown up, listening to my own work shoes on the kitchen floor
a NEW REVISED break in continuity, unless we consider frank from a state such as ohio; Frank on shoes:
why don’t you try on those shoes honey, they are nice, I mean I think they would be nice on you, look good & all, & probably comfortable like Sunday afternoon watching a movie like, what’s your favorite one? you know,
um, Must Love Dogs or something right? well, maybe sleeping, you know, sleeping late…long drives in the passenger seat with, with your feet up, going to the lake hmmm…what a fantastic Italian print on that one…Chinese food, you know, you know how the leftover stuff taste better somehow,
and being curled up on the couch with a movie or bagging a buck, huge rack and all, on the first day of the season or, or relieving like that time you thought I was cheating on you cause I was staying out late & lying & you found that little bottle of perfume in my pocket & everything, but, but then it was your birthday, it was real nice,
real relieving because I had been out late getting you all those nice gifts you know and maybe these shoes, these shoes they would be comforting like that or like coffee, morning coffee with all that flavored crap you like, you know the creamers caramel latte or peppermint twist stuff,
maybe like cleaning the house or when we put Frankie Jr. to sleep, I mean that wasn’t a good thing, but he was always snarling at children & too old to see you know, falling down the stairs & everything so it was kind of, it was kind of relieving to put him out of that pain, not have to worry or clean up after him anymore, & well I mean comforting
kind of like that TV show you watch all the time, you know, “What not to Wear” where they take all the person’s ugly old clothes & the shoes that the person thinks are nice but are nasty they are just awful & they throw ‘em out, well I hope they don’t throw ‘em out maybe just give ‘em to a Sal-Val or something like, even if the clothes are ugly a homeless guy could use ‘em, but you know those crazy hosts on that show Stacy & Clinton, they fix the person up right & neat & it’s fancy & then they are made over & everything is good like a big party because, you know…new shoes.
um, Must Love Dogs or something right? well, maybe sleeping, you know, sleeping late…long drives in the passenger seat with, with your feet up, going to the lake hmmm…what a fantastic Italian print on that one…Chinese food, you know, you know how the leftover stuff taste better somehow,
and being curled up on the couch with a movie or bagging a buck, huge rack and all, on the first day of the season or, or relieving like that time you thought I was cheating on you cause I was staying out late & lying & you found that little bottle of perfume in my pocket & everything, but, but then it was your birthday, it was real nice,
real relieving because I had been out late getting you all those nice gifts you know and maybe these shoes, these shoes they would be comforting like that or like coffee, morning coffee with all that flavored crap you like, you know the creamers caramel latte or peppermint twist stuff,
maybe like cleaning the house or when we put Frankie Jr. to sleep, I mean that wasn’t a good thing, but he was always snarling at children & too old to see you know, falling down the stairs & everything so it was kind of, it was kind of relieving to put him out of that pain, not have to worry or clean up after him anymore, & well I mean comforting
kind of like that TV show you watch all the time, you know, “What not to Wear” where they take all the person’s ugly old clothes & the shoes that the person thinks are nice but are nasty they are just awful & they throw ‘em out, well I hope they don’t throw ‘em out maybe just give ‘em to a Sal-Val or something like, even if the clothes are ugly a homeless guy could use ‘em, but you know those crazy hosts on that show Stacy & Clinton, they fix the person up right & neat & it’s fancy & then they are made over & everything is good like a big party because, you know…new shoes.
27 November 2006
24 November 2006
Coded Death-Threat Written by Small Cousins After Thanksgiving Dinner, Maryland
Dear, Googs
sweat honey iced
tea you have
backwards octopus
Zach
sweat honey iced
tea you have
backwards octopus
Zach
16 November 2006
on the Oberst's refrigerator
crayon, washable in looping squiggles,
not quite a rainbow, not quite a person
but a family none the less, together.
taken down.
connect the dots ripped
out of a couloring book
after learning how to count.
taken down.
a tracing of a hand, fingertip
feathers yellow, red, &
blue with a beak on the thumb
taken down.
an A- state spelling test
Mississippi & Missouri correct
but Coneticut caused problems.
taken down.
I want to be a fireman, I
want to be an architect, I want
to be a musician.
taken down.
a bundle of receipts, yellow &
white, crumpled & signed
to keep track of the money going out
taken down.
my family is reduced to names
on a shopping list, one square of
wants & a hope for a phone call.
not quite a rainbow, not quite a person
but a family none the less, together.
taken down.
connect the dots ripped
out of a couloring book
after learning how to count.
taken down.
a tracing of a hand, fingertip
feathers yellow, red, &
blue with a beak on the thumb
taken down.
an A- state spelling test
Mississippi & Missouri correct
but Coneticut caused problems.
taken down.
I want to be a fireman, I
want to be an architect, I want
to be a musician.
taken down.
a bundle of receipts, yellow &
white, crumpled & signed
to keep track of the money going out
taken down.
my family is reduced to names
on a shopping list, one square of
wants & a hope for a phone call.
08 November 2006
for the sake of continuity, this could count as PA--a poem called: The Student Union
The fountain in the Alumni Plaza is
shut off. Its faux-riverbed dry.
All the pennies have been scooped out,
wishes spent.
Six sickly trees have given their all to fall
& trampled
dusty remains
gather in the fountain’s base.
The only rumble now is passing traffic,
& the shuffle of students steps on
a mud line cut through dying grass,
always rushing five minutes before, or after class in
shields of iPod interference--sound tracked
bubbles--& cell phones stringing invisible
electric laundry lines for all to hear:
(insert cliché here)
The students stacked in trailers
behind Lytle Hall will soon move
to the academic forum; a giant glowing
17 million dollar fishbowl filled with
goldfish eyes in 200 seat amphitheaters,
the teachers
will never have to
learn my name again.
The dry recycled air echoes
recycled ideas pounded into
five paragraph containers
reused in the library, wasted computer printout
pages, all grades
the same--one
pen stroke pass
or fail--like
finding a parking space
five minutes before class.
We are (the new) Penn State
repackaged in another field, in
another ground broken ceremony
high-rise honeycombed dorms,
where a single room is now a triple
in a numbers game of how many students
can we jam in one place, for one price
& still get away with it. Better yet--
put a food court in the forum so
they can buy Freedom fries. Please just
keep the Republicans away from bake sales.
The turned up corn fields give again--
the illusion of space--like
the fairgrounds on a weekend,
& diversity is half the population
taking a bus back to the city,
taking a truck back to the country.
Monday thru Friday we walk in streams but
never pool into a student union,
it’s just myspace now, faux
facebooked friends & waiting
for the season to slide by,
a fountain filled again.
shut off. Its faux-riverbed dry.
All the pennies have been scooped out,
wishes spent.
Six sickly trees have given their all to fall
& trampled
dusty remains
gather in the fountain’s base.
The only rumble now is passing traffic,
& the shuffle of students steps on
a mud line cut through dying grass,
always rushing five minutes before, or after class in
shields of iPod interference--sound tracked
bubbles--& cell phones stringing invisible
electric laundry lines for all to hear:
(insert cliché here)
The students stacked in trailers
behind Lytle Hall will soon move
to the academic forum; a giant glowing
17 million dollar fishbowl filled with
goldfish eyes in 200 seat amphitheaters,
the teachers
will never have to
learn my name again.
The dry recycled air echoes
recycled ideas pounded into
five paragraph containers
reused in the library, wasted computer printout
pages, all grades
the same--one
pen stroke pass
or fail--like
finding a parking space
five minutes before class.
We are (the new) Penn State
repackaged in another field, in
another ground broken ceremony
high-rise honeycombed dorms,
where a single room is now a triple
in a numbers game of how many students
can we jam in one place, for one price
& still get away with it. Better yet--
put a food court in the forum so
they can buy Freedom fries. Please just
keep the Republicans away from bake sales.
The turned up corn fields give again--
the illusion of space--like
the fairgrounds on a weekend,
& diversity is half the population
taking a bus back to the city,
taking a truck back to the country.
Monday thru Friday we walk in streams but
never pool into a student union,
it’s just myspace now, faux
facebooked friends & waiting
for the season to slide by,
a fountain filled again.
01 November 2006
Californ-I-A
"you gotta see the west coast,"
she said. her acrylic nails were
red and the color slunk into the
whites of her eyes. "there just
ain't nothing like the blue sky
in california." a cough hacked
from the cracks in her chapped
red-lined lips. "you gotta see
those people. they got these bright
white teeth and blue convertibles."
"something about it," she said.
"god bless america, you know?"
she said. her acrylic nails were
red and the color slunk into the
whites of her eyes. "there just
ain't nothing like the blue sky
in california." a cough hacked
from the cracks in her chapped
red-lined lips. "you gotta see
those people. they got these bright
white teeth and blue convertibles."
"something about it," she said.
"god bless america, you know?"
30 October 2006
Maine
Nine hour drive
Hot and heavy June
With no air-conditioning
We drove with the
Mass-holes
to get to you.
Hot and heavy June
With no air-conditioning
We drove with the
Mass-holes
to get to you.
29 October 2006
28 October 2006
27 October 2006
25 October 2006
LOOK AT ME ALASKA
In New Jersey we live stacked
1,134.4 persons per square mile,
frozen in a block of humanity.
In American Russia, where no
road leads to the capital,
1.1 people per square mile
breath fresh, Alaskan Air.
1,134.4 persons per square mile,
frozen in a block of humanity.
In American Russia, where no
road leads to the capital,
1.1 people per square mile
breath fresh, Alaskan Air.
24 October 2006
22 October 2006
03 October 2006
Ausible Chasm
walls of stacked summer
reading--rocks carved
in the two-million-year
trickle of
blue eyes.
reading--rocks carved
in the two-million-year
trickle of
blue eyes.
29 September 2006
a new paragraph
the tree on the hill drops ¶
that roll down & gather by
my back door.
A yellow bird lives
in the tree & sings
¶ ¶¶ ¶ ¶ ¶
in the morning, the tea
¶ out of the kettle ¶
spilling into autumn
air ¶
changes the weather
¶ ¶¶ ¶¶ ¶
clouds that part at lunchtime.
¶ to open Campbell’s tomato soup
the can crunched & reused into ¶
that roll down & gather by
my back door.
A yellow bird lives
in the tree & sings
¶ ¶¶ ¶ ¶ ¶
in the morning, the tea
¶ out of the kettle ¶
spilling into autumn
air ¶
changes the weather
¶ ¶¶ ¶¶ ¶
clouds that part at lunchtime.
¶ to open Campbell’s tomato soup
the can crunched & reused into ¶
28 September 2006
Colon: Semi Colon’s Straight-laced Brother
Colon has lips that press together so tightly that sometimes he catches himself holding his breath. When he fills his lungs with large, lonely gasps, tears seep from Colon’s eyes, dotting his pages with lists of things that would make him happy. Colon weeps: “Things to do: Remember to breathe, learn to smile, speak in exclamations and expletives, fall in love.”
Time passes for Colon, slowly, because he has many lists and sleeps poorly. His dreams are typed on keyboards, rhythmic heartbeats, and his lists are scratched deeply into his heart. One day, finally, climactically, and gloriously, Colon crosses an item off his list: Colon falls in love.
Her name is Parenthese and she is beautiful and sweet and kind. Parenthese sees Colon first (he doesn’t see her, yet). She likes him right away (but isn’t sure why). When Colon finally notices Parenthese, he’s not sure whether she’s looking at him or the small painting of a dog over his head (he is very dense and Parenthese finds it endearing).
Colon and Parenthese fall in love as soon as Colon realizes that Parenthese is looking at him and not the painting. Together, they spend the day crumbling bread for the ducks in the park and eating fettuccini alfredo cross-legged in Parenthese’s apartment. Over time, Parenthese teaches Colon to relax a little and Colon teaches Parenthese to be a little more organized.
One night Colon and Parenthese have a fight. While they have loved each other for a long time, some issues have been simmering and have finally come to a boil. Colon yells at Parenthese to grow up and stand for something real. Parenthese cries and calls Colon a controlling bastard. Colon sleeps on the couch that night and Parenthese has to pee for nine hours straight because she doesn’t want to walk past Colon to get to the bathroom.
The next morning, Colon and Parenthese walk to the park and feed the ducks together. Each gets a little defensive — Colon scoffs and Parenthese rolls her eyes — but in the end they talk and learn that while they can’t always understand the other, they desperately want to help the other understand as best they can. Parenthese presses Colon’s hand to her lips and thanks him for keeping her grounded. Colon hugs Parenthese tightly and whispers into her hair, thanking her for reminding him of what’s important.
Colon and Parenthese both feel so complete in their love, so full of hope, they decide to have a child. Both agree it’s a little soon, a little unplanned, but Colon and Parenthese believe no child could enter a world filled with more love than the world they have in their hearts to offer.
When the child comes, he is strong and certain like Colon and beautiful and sweet like Parenthese. They name him Comma.
Alternate pop-culture ending: Colon and Parenthese have a child who is everything they could ever want her to be. They name her… : )
Time passes for Colon, slowly, because he has many lists and sleeps poorly. His dreams are typed on keyboards, rhythmic heartbeats, and his lists are scratched deeply into his heart. One day, finally, climactically, and gloriously, Colon crosses an item off his list: Colon falls in love.
Her name is Parenthese and she is beautiful and sweet and kind. Parenthese sees Colon first (he doesn’t see her, yet). She likes him right away (but isn’t sure why). When Colon finally notices Parenthese, he’s not sure whether she’s looking at him or the small painting of a dog over his head (he is very dense and Parenthese finds it endearing).
Colon and Parenthese fall in love as soon as Colon realizes that Parenthese is looking at him and not the painting. Together, they spend the day crumbling bread for the ducks in the park and eating fettuccini alfredo cross-legged in Parenthese’s apartment. Over time, Parenthese teaches Colon to relax a little and Colon teaches Parenthese to be a little more organized.
One night Colon and Parenthese have a fight. While they have loved each other for a long time, some issues have been simmering and have finally come to a boil. Colon yells at Parenthese to grow up and stand for something real. Parenthese cries and calls Colon a controlling bastard. Colon sleeps on the couch that night and Parenthese has to pee for nine hours straight because she doesn’t want to walk past Colon to get to the bathroom.
The next morning, Colon and Parenthese walk to the park and feed the ducks together. Each gets a little defensive — Colon scoffs and Parenthese rolls her eyes — but in the end they talk and learn that while they can’t always understand the other, they desperately want to help the other understand as best they can. Parenthese presses Colon’s hand to her lips and thanks him for keeping her grounded. Colon hugs Parenthese tightly and whispers into her hair, thanking her for reminding him of what’s important.
Colon and Parenthese both feel so complete in their love, so full of hope, they decide to have a child. Both agree it’s a little soon, a little unplanned, but Colon and Parenthese believe no child could enter a world filled with more love than the world they have in their hearts to offer.
When the child comes, he is strong and certain like Colon and beautiful and sweet like Parenthese. They name him Comma.
Alternate pop-culture ending: Colon and Parenthese have a child who is everything they could ever want her to be. They name her… : )
24 September 2006
debating the usage of a semi-colon;
kitchen sink full
of last weeks dishes;
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa no comments or postings
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa for the blog today;
wet socks &
book bag on back;
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa full of theory, less
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa living during the week;
schedules of movement
without bells ringing;
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa washed face, brushed
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa teeth & walked;
cold feet in conversation,
silence on the turnpike;
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa laundry day is coming.
of last weeks dishes;
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa no comments or postings
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa for the blog today;
wet socks &
book bag on back;
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa full of theory, less
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa living during the week;
schedules of movement
without bells ringing;
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa washed face, brushed
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa teeth & walked;
cold feet in conversation,
silence on the turnpike;
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa laundry day is coming.
21 September 2006
17 September 2006
response
lab assistant, young with the periodical table in
her eyes, readable & open intentions--protons
rotating around the nuclease at
greater & greater speeds--
element stacked upon element,
centrifuged & distilled to a
small electric spasm.
Now whenever she sees the widower scientist,
eyes to the ground.
her eyes, readable & open intentions--protons
rotating around the nuclease at
greater & greater speeds--
element stacked upon element,
centrifuged & distilled to a
small electric spasm.
Now whenever she sees the widower scientist,
eyes to the ground.
13 September 2006
copy cat copy
a no homework night for no reason at all
(sleep deprivation builds to lack of attention)
though now I sit down--old desk, green walls--
(the ones i can hear Jared’s music through)
& check my email to find a form let down
(hey that was one of your due assignments today!)
letter with an opening salutation,
(Thank you for your submission to Sigma Tau Delta publications.)
followed by the “buffer zone” to keep me reading
(This year we had a record number of submissions, which made the editorial )
on & on, months I forgot I even submitted,
(selection that much more difficult.)
sent my tiny old poems out
(when i still was writing a lot)
& had hope beyond getting through the week
(more than just repeated patterns)
(sleep deprivation builds to lack of attention)
though now I sit down--old desk, green walls--
(the ones i can hear Jared’s music through)
& check my email to find a form let down
(hey that was one of your due assignments today!)
letter with an opening salutation,
(Thank you for your submission to Sigma Tau Delta publications.)
followed by the “buffer zone” to keep me reading
(This year we had a record number of submissions, which made the editorial )
on & on, months I forgot I even submitted,
(selection that much more difficult.)
sent my tiny old poems out
(when i still was writing a lot)
& had hope beyond getting through the week
(more than just repeated patterns)
10 September 2006
Bad: A Bitter List
sunday night and too much caffeine for no reason at all
(i am full of bad ideas).
jittery and pissed off at a semester of spanish three homework
(someone else's bad idea).
email to ex-boyfriend is returned with unusual curtness
(i assume this means something bad).
friend's new boyfriend is a decade older
(i try not to assume this is bad).
best friend left for a semester in london on saturday
(before my bad (sun)day).
credit card bill is over a thousand dollars
(suddenly i'm a bad spender).
two weeks in and no fingernails left
(another bad habit to break).
want to go to an artists' colony and sleep and sleep and sleep
(no bad dreams).
(i am full of bad ideas).
jittery and pissed off at a semester of spanish three homework
(someone else's bad idea).
email to ex-boyfriend is returned with unusual curtness
(i assume this means something bad).
friend's new boyfriend is a decade older
(i try not to assume this is bad).
best friend left for a semester in london on saturday
(before my bad (sun)day).
credit card bill is over a thousand dollars
(suddenly i'm a bad spender).
two weeks in and no fingernails left
(another bad habit to break).
want to go to an artists' colony and sleep and sleep and sleep
(no bad dreams).
05 September 2006
Subway 8:46 a.m. September 11.
In a tunnel under the Hudson
riding to work, the first impact was
a subtle shake.
A shift of seismic energy
on the Richter scale,
a 2.3 magnitude shudder.
The subway did not stop,
but continue towards the
burning towers.
It rolled, without rushing,
under anchored beams, through the
station, and slid safely
back to New Jersey.
Inspired by the book , American Ground Unbuilding the World Trade Center
by William Langewiesche
riding to work, the first impact was
a subtle shake.
A shift of seismic energy
on the Richter scale,
a 2.3 magnitude shudder.
The subway did not stop,
but continue towards the
burning towers.
It rolled, without rushing,
under anchored beams, through the
station, and slid safely
back to New Jersey.
Inspired by the book , American Ground Unbuilding the World Trade Center
by William Langewiesche
how to make paper fly
How to make paper fly.
September, nine million square feet of office space.
Step one: fold the paper in half. It doesn’t have to be any particular size,
just big enough to fold.
Ninety percent air, ten percent building.
Step two: open the paper & fold the left top corner diagonally towards the middle, along the vertical fold made in step one. Repeat with the top right corner.
Two 767 airplanes 137 tons.
Step three: fold the top left corner diagonally towards the middle again along the
vertical fold made earlier. Repeat with the right side.
Two flashes thirty six minutes apart
Step four: fold the mirroring sides into itself along the first horizontally folded line.
Twin ten second pulses, the south tower at 9:59, the north at 10:28.
Step five: make wings by folding an edge along the entire paper from angled nose
to square tail.
it rained office paper all day.
Step six: throw.
September, nine million square feet of office space.
Step one: fold the paper in half. It doesn’t have to be any particular size,
just big enough to fold.
Ninety percent air, ten percent building.
Step two: open the paper & fold the left top corner diagonally towards the middle, along the vertical fold made in step one. Repeat with the top right corner.
Two 767 airplanes 137 tons.
Step three: fold the top left corner diagonally towards the middle again along the
vertical fold made earlier. Repeat with the right side.
Two flashes thirty six minutes apart
Step four: fold the mirroring sides into itself along the first horizontally folded line.
Twin ten second pulses, the south tower at 9:59, the north at 10:28.
Step five: make wings by folding an edge along the entire paper from angled nose
to square tail.
it rained office paper all day.
Step six: throw.
september snow globe
Greg likes snow globes.
The way the world encapsulated
in a bubble can slow,
& each plastic flake
falls, glides to the ground,
settled.
I have one of the city—
the Empire State, the Statue
of Liberty & the Twin Towers.
It’s his favorite.
He shakes it up--arms flailing
as a four year old who hasn’t
fully figured how his body works
does--& waits with breath held
for the ten seconds
of falling to be
over.
“The snow never sticks to the towers,”
Greg says. He tells me:
“It’s because they are so tall,
so tall they are part of the sky.”
They are Greg.
They are.
The way the world encapsulated
in a bubble can slow,
& each plastic flake
falls, glides to the ground,
settled.
I have one of the city—
the Empire State, the Statue
of Liberty & the Twin Towers.
It’s his favorite.
He shakes it up--arms flailing
as a four year old who hasn’t
fully figured how his body works
does--& waits with breath held
for the ten seconds
of falling to be
over.
“The snow never sticks to the towers,”
Greg says. He tells me:
“It’s because they are so tall,
so tall they are part of the sky.”
They are Greg.
They are.
04 September 2006
30 August 2006
reREvealed
in the WHITE space
between
where we high like on the ceiling when not looking/reading a book or in a good thought light
the thoughts broken down
coloured in
remembered, outlined
structured for belief.
it is watching these things
unfold, become (OPTIONAL THOUGHT--more than) a
novel
metallic chirping the sound (of a typewriter) when you finish a line
the quickness sloppy on a PLASTIC keypad
looking through photo albums found on closet floors next to
crumpled up flannel
holes in the walls from thumbtacks, a white space of the HEART
the internal hidden life of the wall in odd places
what were they hanging?
what were they holding up that was so important & needed
TO BE SEEN?
29 August 2006
return to New times.
systematically dis-
assembeling the news-
paper cut &
opened sections be-
tween the lines
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa fireside lounge, brown
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa couch, no fire, just
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa papers. tons of papers.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa torn papers with doodles
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa all over the edges.
while its new
unfolded, dented, creased,
packed from a plant
traveled across highways
typed in New York
city.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a story with so much
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa narrative it smelled
laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa like fresh paint,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa not ventilated,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a headRush.
assembeling the news-
paper cut &
opened sections be-
tween the lines
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa fireside lounge, brown
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa couch, no fire, just
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa papers. tons of papers.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa torn papers with doodles
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa all over the edges.
while its new
unfolded, dented, creased,
packed from a plant
traveled across highways
typed in New York
city.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a story with so much
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa narrative it smelled
laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa like fresh paint,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa not ventilated,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a headRush.
already
headache and a
distinct lack of
protein return me
to a back to school
state of mind.
already procrastin-
ating a first day's
homework because due
dates are two weeks
from today.
and
already
i
miss
your
smile.
distinct lack of
protein return me
to a back to school
state of mind.
already procrastin-
ating a first day's
homework because due
dates are two weeks
from today.
and
already
i
miss
your
smile.
28 August 2006
maybe
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa thick, soupy mist
floating above
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa sun burnt,
heated street
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa peeling,
high beams reflect
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa pale white lines
off of
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa circles under eyes
the cloud
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa 2 a.m. driving home
that cannot
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa stay awake or
fly.
floating above
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa sun burnt,
heated street
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa peeling,
high beams reflect
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa pale white lines
off of
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa circles under eyes
the cloud
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa 2 a.m. driving home
that cannot
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa stay awake or
fly.
27 August 2006
SecondNight
the cardboard is packed
(not stacked or absorbing the sounds
of a television
downstairs.)
so this is what my
computer is like.
it took two hours
of looking at all labels
(no meat &
the cheapest goods)
to save twenty-four
dollars.
tomorrow maybe
a haircut.
tea for two to start
the day (waking up
to dick
who came to remove
the hot tub.)
green walls no longer
blue
i can go to bed with
the Gilmore girls
& a bed stuffed
with animals.
(comments included with
placement of TV.)
conversations
across
the room.
half in computer,
half spoken.
we can forge
a new family
in the space between.
18 August 2006
For German friends (für Deutsche Freunde.)
hands aaaaaaaaaaa Hände
stretched aaaaaaa dehnten
over aaaaaaaaaaaa rauhe
rough aaaaaaaaaaa hölzerne
wooden aaaaaaa übermäßigtabelle
table aaaaaaaaa zwischen
between aaaaaa Abendessen
dinner aaaaaaa u.
& aaaaaaaaaa Nachtisch
dessert. aaaaaaa aus.
stretched aaaaaaa dehnten
over aaaaaaaaaaaa rauhe
rough aaaaaaaaaaa hölzerne
wooden aaaaaaa übermäßigtabelle
table aaaaaaaaa zwischen
between aaaaaa Abendessen
dinner aaaaaaa u.
& aaaaaaaaaa Nachtisch
dessert. aaaaaaa aus.
17 August 2006
tea time
back broken by the lifting of lumber, jack could
do nothing but rest & wait for the return of po-
sterity through a slumbering regiment; sticky p-
otato chip hands, hot dogs eaten raw from the f-
reezer, falling asleep in his brown arm chair,
jack, white wrapped in long john coveralls, dri-
ed in the heat of the electronic hearth glowing
three’s company & draining battery lives till no
remote could change the arid airwaves—like sand
through an hourglass so passed the days of jack’
s life—just watching the same channel over & ov-
er & over again till it all was rerun & he could
predict the future & control time in thirty min-
ute intervals & in a symphony of board, hammer,
nail, jack was foreman once more molding from m-
emory a true HOME for the next generation, the
next lonely lovers to live in peace & comfort c-
oming together in a room of brady bunch sinceri-
ty, making the world a tv land once more.
do nothing but rest & wait for the return of po-
sterity through a slumbering regiment; sticky p-
otato chip hands, hot dogs eaten raw from the f-
reezer, falling asleep in his brown arm chair,
jack, white wrapped in long john coveralls, dri-
ed in the heat of the electronic hearth glowing
three’s company & draining battery lives till no
remote could change the arid airwaves—like sand
through an hourglass so passed the days of jack’
s life—just watching the same channel over & ov-
er & over again till it all was rerun & he could
predict the future & control time in thirty min-
ute intervals & in a symphony of board, hammer,
nail, jack was foreman once more molding from m-
emory a true HOME for the next generation, the
next lonely lovers to live in peace & comfort c-
oming together in a room of brady bunch sinceri-
ty, making the world a tv land once more.
15 August 2006
14 August 2006
telephone 6 and 6.5
i can only handle one friend who was
just broken up with (over the phone)
at a time. voice mail: "joe and i had
another fight and i'm just calling to
talk." in person, the cell phone in
the grass, lying flat on our backs
in the park: "bryan said he didn't want
to be with me." i wait for my phone
to beep, telling me ian returned my
text message, which i told myself i
wasn't going to send, but did anyway.
i can't call her back; i can't make her
feel better in the grass (and the mos-
quitos are coming out); he doesn't text
me back.
let's only talk in person from now
on, because it's too hard not to see
your face and i already forgot how you
smile. i don't know you well enough
to be comfortable text messaging you
when i want to know how you're doing
and be able to see it come from your voice
without the static on the line and the
roommate in the other room with the tv
on, but i don't want to have the 'where
is this going?' conversation, because
i'm trying really hard to see if this
new thing could work, but you live too
far away for me to be okay with not
hearing from you until i see you on
the weekend and we aren't clear with
anything. let's just talk in person (and
have the 'where is this going?' con-
versation).
just broken up with (over the phone)
at a time. voice mail: "joe and i had
another fight and i'm just calling to
talk." in person, the cell phone in
the grass, lying flat on our backs
in the park: "bryan said he didn't want
to be with me." i wait for my phone
to beep, telling me ian returned my
text message, which i told myself i
wasn't going to send, but did anyway.
i can't call her back; i can't make her
feel better in the grass (and the mos-
quitos are coming out); he doesn't text
me back.
let's only talk in person from now
on, because it's too hard not to see
your face and i already forgot how you
smile. i don't know you well enough
to be comfortable text messaging you
when i want to know how you're doing
and be able to see it come from your voice
without the static on the line and the
roommate in the other room with the tv
on, but i don't want to have the 'where
is this going?' conversation, because
i'm trying really hard to see if this
new thing could work, but you live too
far away for me to be okay with not
hearing from you until i see you on
the weekend and we aren't clear with
anything. let's just talk in person (and
have the 'where is this going?' con-
versation).
12 August 2006
telephone 5
the entire
electronic universe
strapped &
cased,
leatherbound &
belted,
to brown
khaki
pants that
never
ring.
electronic universe
strapped &
cased,
leatherbound &
belted,
to brown
khaki
pants that
never
ring.
11 August 2006
10 August 2006
telephone 3
pick up some milk & OJ
keep the mobile device & its antenna
pop tarts, waffles, & cranberry juice
2.5 centimeters (1 inch) from your body
do you need anything else?
nearly every electronic device is subject to
no, i just wanted to know
Radio Frequency (RF) energy interference from external sources
where you were & when
if inadequately shielded, designed, or otherwise
will you be coming home?
configured for RF energy compatibility
in a little while, I have to go to
the Specific Absorption Rate (SAR) limit for
the gas station & get fuel for the
mobile phones used by the public
lawnmower & then I will be on my way
is 1.6 Watts/Kg averaged over one gram of tissue
keep the mobile device & its antenna
pop tarts, waffles, & cranberry juice
2.5 centimeters (1 inch) from your body
do you need anything else?
nearly every electronic device is subject to
no, i just wanted to know
Radio Frequency (RF) energy interference from external sources
where you were & when
if inadequately shielded, designed, or otherwise
will you be coming home?
configured for RF energy compatibility
in a little while, I have to go to
the Specific Absorption Rate (SAR) limit for
the gas station & get fuel for the
mobile phones used by the public
lawnmower & then I will be on my way
is 1.6 Watts/Kg averaged over one gram of tissue
09 August 2006
08 August 2006
telephone 1
addicted to the telephone
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa tetherphone
i am always a phone call away
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa never away
just in case my car breaks
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa down
the sweat crackle of her voice
(it actually sounds different)
& i am ever seeking the
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa sound of sweetness
aaaaaaaaaa giddy cute talking to animals & babies voice
that is the closest thing to
a smile i can get--
the intonation the
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa reflection--
bounced off of clouds & filtered
through the cosmic microwave background
an invisible (time elapsed) embrace.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa tetherphone
i am always a phone call away
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa never away
just in case my car breaks
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa down
the sweat crackle of her voice
(it actually sounds different)
& i am ever seeking the
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa sound of sweetness
aaaaaaaaaa giddy cute talking to animals & babies voice
that is the closest thing to
a smile i can get--
the intonation the
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa reflection--
bounced off of clouds & filtered
through the cosmic microwave background
an invisible (time elapsed) embrace.
02 August 2006
Hey, remember when I had an original thread?
hey, remember when…
i knew how to start a poem?
read a book?
not plan life around TV?
i took walks in the woods?
pictures of my shoes?
more than just journal entries?
i only wrote dripping prose without punctuation bent over computer lab keyboards before every procrastinated paper deadline outlining the final fall of self crashing into volcanoes of colour or robotic battle grounds?
i had fake glasses?
a desk where there wasn’t crayon writing on the wall or a civil war calendar next to me?
punctuality.
i knew how to start a poem?
read a book?
not plan life around TV?
i took walks in the woods?
pictures of my shoes?
more than just journal entries?
i only wrote dripping prose without punctuation bent over computer lab keyboards before every procrastinated paper deadline outlining the final fall of self crashing into volcanoes of colour or robotic battle grounds?
i had fake glasses?
a desk where there wasn’t crayon writing on the wall or a civil war calendar next to me?
punctuality.
01 August 2006
hey, remember when we would post?
hey, remember when...
i had fingernails?
a boyfriend?
three whole months of summer left?
i used to go to the pool?
to the beach?
skipped work?
i noticed the first fireflies?
the beginning of wineberry season?
but not that time was passing?
i knew how to ride a bike?
paint with watercolors?
end a poem?
i had fingernails?
a boyfriend?
three whole months of summer left?
i used to go to the pool?
to the beach?
skipped work?
i noticed the first fireflies?
the beginning of wineberry season?
but not that time was passing?
i knew how to ride a bike?
paint with watercolors?
end a poem?
15 July 2006
05 July 2006
26 June 2006
21 June 2006
08 June 2006
percived world
today
the second Thursday of the month waking up at 11
I will transcribe
for my sister still schoolbound at
“a blue ribbon school of excellence”
messy journal entries
“I wish I had a tape player to record the things he says”
cherylin said, who skimmed her pink notepad with stars
that said simply for that day “ego”
twelve pages of notes to self
the first family debacle full of to do lists &
spoken threats
I will edit down & cut to pieces
“shut up before I hit you”
the deadline of forgetting about it
like a real father
& she will probably never read it
why am I wasting time
that could be paying me to lift lumber
for poetry?
the second Thursday of the month waking up at 11
I will transcribe
for my sister still schoolbound at
“a blue ribbon school of excellence”
messy journal entries
“I wish I had a tape player to record the things he says”
cherylin said, who skimmed her pink notepad with stars
that said simply for that day “ego”
twelve pages of notes to self
the first family debacle full of to do lists &
spoken threats
I will edit down & cut to pieces
“shut up before I hit you”
the deadline of forgetting about it
like a real father
& she will probably never read it
why am I wasting time
that could be paying me to lift lumber
for poetry?
06 June 2006
real world
today
the first tuesday of the month at 7 pm
i will cover
for the hearthstone town and country,
"serving the upper perkiomen valley for 108 years"
the bally borough council meeting
"we like to keep the meetings short and simple," said brenda,
council secretary, who wore a leapord print shirt
and looked bored the whole meeting
with four pages of notes and quotes
an hour and a half of handicapped parking and
rogue ballpark baseball debacles
i'll write the article tonight
300 words for $30
before the 9 am deadline tomorrow morning
like a real journalist
although they'll probably cut my lead
"the borough of bally council is knee-deep in sludge"
why aren't there internships
that pay
for poetry?
the first tuesday of the month at 7 pm
i will cover
for the hearthstone town and country,
"serving the upper perkiomen valley for 108 years"
the bally borough council meeting
"we like to keep the meetings short and simple," said brenda,
council secretary, who wore a leapord print shirt
and looked bored the whole meeting
with four pages of notes and quotes
an hour and a half of handicapped parking and
rogue ballpark baseball debacles
i'll write the article tonight
300 words for $30
before the 9 am deadline tomorrow morning
like a real journalist
although they'll probably cut my lead
"the borough of bally council is knee-deep in sludge"
why aren't there internships
that pay
for poetry?
31 May 2006
homephone
i don't even have
text messaging
on my phone.
My stepfather dis-
connected it
because he didn't want
to pay the bill.
For my birthday
i will ask him
for a new cell phone
which he can likely
get for free
& then disable the
text messaging features.
text messaging
on my phone.
My stepfather dis-
connected it
because he didn't want
to pay the bill.
For my birthday
i will ask him
for a new cell phone
which he can likely
get for free
& then disable the
text messaging features.
30 May 2006
an on-vacation post
There is something very
desperate in being excited
to get a text message, finding
one not there, resigning to
send it yourself, trying to
capture missing/love/carefree
at the same time in a few
thriftily arranged consonants,
then waiting for a return
message you already know won't
meet your expectations, or at
least match (in your eyes) the
same missing/love/carefree
that it is replying to.
desperate in being excited
to get a text message, finding
one not there, resigning to
send it yourself, trying to
capture missing/love/carefree
at the same time in a few
thriftily arranged consonants,
then waiting for a return
message you already know won't
meet your expectations, or at
least match (in your eyes) the
same missing/love/carefree
that it is replying to.
25 May 2006
libel
a statement damaging a person
would be considered libelous
if more than three people read
this published post.
would be considered libelous
if more than three people read
this published post.
23 May 2006
catch phrase
these are some words that i think could up our hits on that nifty world wide viewage list.
my theme: tv & movies
american idol
the da vinci code
my theme: tv & movies
american idol
the da vinci code
15 May 2006
10 May 2006
09 May 2006
30 April 2006
Two Fortune Cookie Fortunes in One Day!
I wake up an hour before my alarm (set at 8:30).
I sit at the computer,
Full of too-early-morning yawns,
Where someone left me their
Good intentions:
Plan your work and work your plan.
Europe: Ou-zhou
Later we get sweet and sour (chicken),
And watch the sun fall through the trees,
After a day of vomit, papers,
And motorcycle tears:
You will be showered with good luck.
Telephone: Dian-hua.
I go to bed hours early (10:30).
I sit at the computer,
Full of too-early-morning yawns,
Where someone left me their
Good intentions:
Plan your work and work your plan.
Europe: Ou-zhou
Later we get sweet and sour (chicken),
And watch the sun fall through the trees,
After a day of vomit, papers,
And motorcycle tears:
You will be showered with good luck.
Telephone: Dian-hua.
I go to bed hours early (10:30).
27 April 2006
Found Poem in Boehm
There is a girl crying in the hallway.
"Don't even worry about it, Katie,
He's a fucking asshole,"
The other says, standing at arms-length away.
Katie cries, the water fountain between them.
Note: What do you think about the punctuation in this? Too rigid, or does it ground it?
"Don't even worry about it, Katie,
He's a fucking asshole,"
The other says, standing at arms-length away.
Katie cries, the water fountain between them.
Note: What do you think about the punctuation in this? Too rigid, or does it ground it?
19 April 2006
18 April 2006
Intro to a paper for contemporary issues in professional writing
Please just let me shit out a paper for tues-morrow
because I cannot get on with my life or sleeping habits without a large dissertation on some element of the First Amendment in regards to Vanessa Leggett and whatever other fancy connection I may come up with in my quick searching of Ebscohost using only full-text scholarly journals perfectly cited MLA and never forget the AP stylebook that I purchased just for the class so I can pass and remember to maintain a 2.5QPA in the core required classes so if I were to just say fuck this paper fuck the first amendment and what it means and how it effects me and how I understand its power and implications but do not care to woo a teacher with formal writing about the subject my head would just explode
no.
I would rather write about robots fighting other robots and people who control them but are actually controlled by the robots because there really aren’t any robots it is just a loose metaphorical term for the people surrounding me connected to cell phones and keyboards going through motions regurgitating First Amendment rhetoric for A+’s across the boards that I don’t want to face that I don’t want to drag me down and I don’t want a simple paper accolade
no.
I want to slip a note under Dr Reed’s door with a poem about a spring afternoon lost in a labyrinth of academia piles of dead winter trees yellow autumn leaves burying me before I can break a red pen on the floor so everyone thinks I died but instead I escape through a portal and now only write in green ink in tiny notebooks in hammocks in the afternoon with cool drinks by my side and at night I retreat to my hut in the trees and make a symphony of typewriter sounds as I weed out the terrible words written about the sad times before the rebellion against the rules
and now I don’t wear shoes or cut my hair and even though I have a sunburn most of the time coconut juice always satisfies my hunger
because I cannot get on with my life or sleeping habits without a large dissertation on some element of the First Amendment in regards to Vanessa Leggett and whatever other fancy connection I may come up with in my quick searching of Ebscohost using only full-text scholarly journals perfectly cited MLA and never forget the AP stylebook that I purchased just for the class so I can pass and remember to maintain a 2.5QPA in the core required classes so if I were to just say fuck this paper fuck the first amendment and what it means and how it effects me and how I understand its power and implications but do not care to woo a teacher with formal writing about the subject my head would just explode
no.
I would rather write about robots fighting other robots and people who control them but are actually controlled by the robots because there really aren’t any robots it is just a loose metaphorical term for the people surrounding me connected to cell phones and keyboards going through motions regurgitating First Amendment rhetoric for A+’s across the boards that I don’t want to face that I don’t want to drag me down and I don’t want a simple paper accolade
no.
I want to slip a note under Dr Reed’s door with a poem about a spring afternoon lost in a labyrinth of academia piles of dead winter trees yellow autumn leaves burying me before I can break a red pen on the floor so everyone thinks I died but instead I escape through a portal and now only write in green ink in tiny notebooks in hammocks in the afternoon with cool drinks by my side and at night I retreat to my hut in the trees and make a symphony of typewriter sounds as I weed out the terrible words written about the sad times before the rebellion against the rules
and now I don’t wear shoes or cut my hair and even though I have a sunburn most of the time coconut juice always satisfies my hunger
11 April 2006
remember when: a wandering
remember the nights when we were just like this
and i couldn't breath from holding my breath in my chest
beating like a drum like a rain dance like clapping thunderclouds
and no rain came
remember the nights that you never told me about
and i sat in the dark
the rug sparking around my feet like a tiny storm of commets
falling in the blackness behind my open eyes
and i sat
remember the nights when i called and left messages
that you never heard under the clamor
of voices and promises and tipping chins and screams
that i could not give voice to
in thirty seconds after a mechanical beep
so i said nothing
remember the nights when i waited and waited for the shower
and heat mixed with cold pounding drops
on my back and my knotted head of hair from shaking my head
no over and over in your eyes in my head
but i meant it
remember the nights like a spilled glass of water
i slipped from myself spilled out myself on the floor
unvacuumed for weeks, the dust settling in the emptiness
of your voice and
oh so many
poems about emptiness
and shit that happens
but really doesn't
but it feels like it
happens
and hurt this much
i'm exaggerating for no reason
except for to give reason
to the sick i feel
growing like a
living, breathing
lump
in my large intestines
and any other organs
that i can remember from
middle school.
and i couldn't breath from holding my breath in my chest
beating like a drum like a rain dance like clapping thunderclouds
and no rain came
remember the nights that you never told me about
and i sat in the dark
the rug sparking around my feet like a tiny storm of commets
falling in the blackness behind my open eyes
and i sat
remember the nights when i called and left messages
that you never heard under the clamor
of voices and promises and tipping chins and screams
that i could not give voice to
in thirty seconds after a mechanical beep
so i said nothing
remember the nights when i waited and waited for the shower
and heat mixed with cold pounding drops
on my back and my knotted head of hair from shaking my head
no over and over in your eyes in my head
but i meant it
remember the nights like a spilled glass of water
i slipped from myself spilled out myself on the floor
unvacuumed for weeks, the dust settling in the emptiness
of your voice and
oh so many
poems about emptiness
and shit that happens
but really doesn't
but it feels like it
happens
and hurt this much
i'm exaggerating for no reason
except for to give reason
to the sick i feel
growing like a
living, breathing
lump
in my large intestines
and any other organs
that i can remember from
middle school.
08 April 2006
07 April 2006
Bill@moviegallery
grey sweatpants & hair combed with too much oil
picking videos from the gallery
wire racks plastic dvd backs stickers
eclipse critics blurbs & the literature
printed covering designs of Gothica
the Shining & House of 1000 Corpses.
x-box games washed down by Mountain Dew
video screen glues childs eyes freezes
development or enhances cordination
he was me is my past friday nights
under pixelated light where first person
shooting stars could wash away empty basement
walls & only the open rafters of the ceiling
could capture in virtual reality
true glowing reds of a perfect fall
crunching leaves dissolve into lines
of code & controllers become hands
held guiding past minefields of brown
neon yellow flashes avoidable
& replayable after lifelines dried
& drained bottomed out a game over
over played paused & returned in tiny
plastic coffins to graveyard galleries
passed on pressed play graduated high
school end of days.
picking videos from the gallery
wire racks plastic dvd backs stickers
eclipse critics blurbs & the literature
printed covering designs of Gothica
the Shining & House of 1000 Corpses.
x-box games washed down by Mountain Dew
video screen glues childs eyes freezes
development or enhances cordination
he was me is my past friday nights
under pixelated light where first person
shooting stars could wash away empty basement
walls & only the open rafters of the ceiling
could capture in virtual reality
true glowing reds of a perfect fall
crunching leaves dissolve into lines
of code & controllers become hands
held guiding past minefields of brown
neon yellow flashes avoidable
& replayable after lifelines dried
& drained bottomed out a game over
over played paused & returned in tiny
plastic coffins to graveyard galleries
passed on pressed play graduated high
school end of days.
05 April 2006
the final four
made this from newspaper & final four bracket
read it up down left right & following the brackets.
04 April 2006
I want to be a space ship
I want to be a glass of water
I want to be a nightstand
I want to be a cherry tree
I want to be a deck of cards
I want to be a low tide
I want to be a reoccurring dream
I want to be a freshly painted wall
I want to be a spelling bee word
I want to be a fingernail moon
I want to be an unmade bed
I want to be a parenthese on a page of periods
I want to be a flat wooden water ice spoon
I want to be a pair of new cotton socks
I want to be a chocolate chip
I want to be a library card
I want to be a nightlight
I want to be a padoodle
I want to be an icicle hanging off a roof
I want to be a smile
I want to be a trampoline
I want to be a bare foot
I want to be a glass of water
I want to be a nightstand
I want to be a cherry tree
I want to be a deck of cards
I want to be a low tide
I want to be a reoccurring dream
I want to be a freshly painted wall
I want to be a spelling bee word
I want to be a fingernail moon
I want to be an unmade bed
I want to be a parenthese on a page of periods
I want to be a flat wooden water ice spoon
I want to be a pair of new cotton socks
I want to be a chocolate chip
I want to be a library card
I want to be a nightlight
I want to be a padoodle
I want to be an icicle hanging off a roof
I want to be a smile
I want to be a trampoline
I want to be a bare foot
i want to be an acorn
i want to be a library ink-jet printer
i want to be a blue mochila
i want to be a pocket note book
i want to be a vending machine bag of pretzels
i want to be a mouse
i want to be a colonial fleet viper
i want to be lost kitten flyer
i want to be a photo album
i want to be a DVD set commentary track
i want to be a crack in the pavement
i want to be a pair of slippers
i want to be a myspace profile
i want to be a mac computer
i want to be a banned poem
i want to be a thumbtack in a bulletin board
i want to be an unabridged dictionary
i want to be a pool diving board
i want to be a spyglass
i want to be a black manual typewriter
i want to be a post it note
i want to be a signpost on the Champs Elysées
i want to be an autumn sweater
i want to be a library ink-jet printer
i want to be a blue mochila
i want to be a pocket note book
i want to be a vending machine bag of pretzels
i want to be a mouse
i want to be a colonial fleet viper
i want to be lost kitten flyer
i want to be a photo album
i want to be a DVD set commentary track
i want to be a crack in the pavement
i want to be a pair of slippers
i want to be a myspace profile
i want to be a mac computer
i want to be a banned poem
i want to be a thumbtack in a bulletin board
i want to be an unabridged dictionary
i want to be a pool diving board
i want to be a spyglass
i want to be a black manual typewriter
i want to be a post it note
i want to be a signpost on the Champs Elysées
i want to be an autumn sweater
03 April 2006
some work/movable type/which work
cat sunning itself in pure bright
luminous checkered floor
i forgot time yesterday till it
became today
shifting sleeping positions from perfect
to perfect 10 minutes before alarm
first cup of tea steeped
for 5 plus 2 sugar splash milk
movie into spotlights sprayed over grains
of wooden floorlined cats
dress yourself the way
mother wouldn’t
drink vanilla silk soy milk
with oats & more cereal
pavement sparkles with rising sun &
weekends broken memories
adjusting indoor & outdoor temperature
& lighting
spots form after moving out of sun
into bedroom dimly lit
soundtrack of alarm clock radio starts
“institutions like a big bright light”
social radar shows
shy eyes & untied shoes
but it is your assignment you
have to do it
a new haircut & trip to
thrift store for secondhand comforts
its nice of you to show up
and grace us with your presence
not conversationalising between classes &
never just stopping by
how was your break and how
are your little brother and sister?
twenty cups of tea later i still
feel cold inside
luminous checkered floor
i forgot time yesterday till it
became today
shifting sleeping positions from perfect
to perfect 10 minutes before alarm
first cup of tea steeped
for 5 plus 2 sugar splash milk
movie into spotlights sprayed over grains
of wooden floorlined cats
dress yourself the way
mother wouldn’t
drink vanilla silk soy milk
with oats & more cereal
pavement sparkles with rising sun &
weekends broken memories
adjusting indoor & outdoor temperature
& lighting
spots form after moving out of sun
into bedroom dimly lit
soundtrack of alarm clock radio starts
“institutions like a big bright light”
social radar shows
shy eyes & untied shoes
but it is your assignment you
have to do it
a new haircut & trip to
thrift store for secondhand comforts
its nice of you to show up
and grace us with your presence
not conversationalising between classes &
never just stopping by
how was your break and how
are your little brother and sister?
twenty cups of tea later i still
feel cold inside
01 April 2006
A Choice
I am submitting smell of paper for an english award, but i can submit one other poem.
Which should it be & why.
Choice #1
Train set
We lived in a Plasticville
1950’s train-spotting suburbia,
carefully planned out transit lines
from church to train store
to
basement to attic—the town
mapped out in Dad’s mind while
working on the paper-maché Murray Hill,
no commute time or heart attacks here-
just,
the reassuring placement-
a Pullman-town all the same,
tiny green trim lawns, Francis
Lewis Boulevard stretching
through
kids playing ball, collecting
coins and stamps, Mother
calls for dinner at six
o’clock on the dot pot roast
a
dream watching difference
clack by—CNJ, PRR,
RDG, NYC—a road named birthplace
and design, each boxcar
a
colour coded conformity to
place and time,
streaking by,
the blinking gated crossing line,
a
protective measure
to keep children’s hands back—
held and guided—always
mathematical, sincere.
Choice #2
Columbus Day—phone call.
First, and always, the five
unanswered rings—Mom, Doc
Cherylin, Amy, Greg—all busy
in worlds of planned painting,
perfect To Do lists done, preschool leaf
collection and a single teenager
still and sitting—
avoidance techniques fully practiced—as
she hooks into the net downstairs
connecting her everywhere but there.
And the echo
ring of a missing son
picked up by recorded greetings—
a frozen moment of informed politeness—
This is the Schroeder and
Tiefel residence please leave
a message with your name and number
and we will get back to you—
I studder in the twenty
seconds given to me twenty seconds to
tell them my wants and needs
twenty seconds to properly greet
an empty house listening to mumbled
words cut off—
I call back. They
are there aware of the part—
the sixth unanswered ring—missing nothing about
the homefront normalcy preplanned
weekend spending sprees and family
meetings miles away.
They lay it on me thick.
Why don’t you visit? Why
don’t you come home
celebrate the day of discovery—
Columbus’s great journey—with
pumpkin picking and uneasy
dinnertime banter, where I only
eat side dishes, watching sister Cherylin
battle for identity and freedom
I have and take for granted.
I will stay.
I will toast Columbus and
his three ships of discovery.
Which should it be & why.
Choice #1
Train set
We lived in a Plasticville
1950’s train-spotting suburbia,
carefully planned out transit lines
from church to train store
to
basement to attic—the town
mapped out in Dad’s mind while
working on the paper-maché Murray Hill,
no commute time or heart attacks here-
just,
the reassuring placement-
a Pullman-town all the same,
tiny green trim lawns, Francis
Lewis Boulevard stretching
through
kids playing ball, collecting
coins and stamps, Mother
calls for dinner at six
o’clock on the dot pot roast
a
dream watching difference
clack by—CNJ, PRR,
RDG, NYC—a road named birthplace
and design, each boxcar
a
colour coded conformity to
place and time,
streaking by,
the blinking gated crossing line,
a
protective measure
to keep children’s hands back—
held and guided—always
mathematical, sincere.
Choice #2
Columbus Day—phone call.
First, and always, the five
unanswered rings—Mom, Doc
Cherylin, Amy, Greg—all busy
in worlds of planned painting,
perfect To Do lists done, preschool leaf
collection and a single teenager
still and sitting—
avoidance techniques fully practiced—as
she hooks into the net downstairs
connecting her everywhere but there.
And the echo
ring of a missing son
picked up by recorded greetings—
a frozen moment of informed politeness—
This is the Schroeder and
Tiefel residence please leave
a message with your name and number
and we will get back to you—
I studder in the twenty
seconds given to me twenty seconds to
tell them my wants and needs
twenty seconds to properly greet
an empty house listening to mumbled
words cut off—
I call back. They
are there aware of the part—
the sixth unanswered ring—missing nothing about
the homefront normalcy preplanned
weekend spending sprees and family
meetings miles away.
They lay it on me thick.
Why don’t you visit? Why
don’t you come home
celebrate the day of discovery—
Columbus’s great journey—with
pumpkin picking and uneasy
dinnertime banter, where I only
eat side dishes, watching sister Cherylin
battle for identity and freedom
I have and take for granted.
I will stay.
I will toast Columbus and
his three ships of discovery.
29 March 2006
28 March 2006
27 March 2006
ADVANCED composition.
this is a poem that i wrote which will appear in Kutztowns literary&arts magazine (once Shooflys rival) ESSENCE.
it is called ADVANCED composition.
transportable identity conducting middle-management disciplined bells timing response in regimented pieces to fill puzzles skillfully echoed in hollowed molded systems purpose (propaganda) make believe chocolate land constructed on microfilms UNPACKED projected flowers elapsed growing docile, nurtured, under halogen suns—edible--malleable steel skeletons pinned together in frozen January air to digibits binary
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa 01001111010010011
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a .com
instant access opinionated blog spot lily pad melting Monet under acrylic bridges search engined reading counting 74 lily pads (making sense?) crane lifted twenty-foot-two-ton-comfort-zoned-commercial-cinder-blocked white painted square with smart classroomed (moveable Mahoney) desks inscribed graffited--Bob Marley the original Rasta-- cut both and off limits questioned brevity interviewed five year foreman recursively explaining the sinkhole sucking tons of concrete sucking ideas into ambiguous blackholed roommates unresponsive will the middle ground no man land entrenched All Quiet on the Western Front barbed wire blocking butterflight bells ring men run to basement bomb shelters (students in unpanicked lines leave the building as if life was a) drilled hole under Gaza Strips arms dealers rich with $32000 homes painted teal sipping tea frustrating failures in class spaces high school castes information deliver barriers broken understanding fired emailed seamless efficient transmitted extracted from tiny pictures of autonomous machines.
it is called ADVANCED composition.
transportable identity conducting middle-management disciplined bells timing response in regimented pieces to fill puzzles skillfully echoed in hollowed molded systems purpose (propaganda) make believe chocolate land constructed on microfilms UNPACKED projected flowers elapsed growing docile, nurtured, under halogen suns—edible--malleable steel skeletons pinned together in frozen January air to digibits binary
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa 01001111010010011
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a .com
instant access opinionated blog spot lily pad melting Monet under acrylic bridges search engined reading counting 74 lily pads (making sense?) crane lifted twenty-foot-two-ton-comfort-zoned-commercial-cinder-blocked white painted square with smart classroomed (moveable Mahoney) desks inscribed graffited--Bob Marley the original Rasta-- cut both and off limits questioned brevity interviewed five year foreman recursively explaining the sinkhole sucking tons of concrete sucking ideas into ambiguous blackholed roommates unresponsive will the middle ground no man land entrenched All Quiet on the Western Front barbed wire blocking butterflight bells ring men run to basement bomb shelters (students in unpanicked lines leave the building as if life was a) drilled hole under Gaza Strips arms dealers rich with $32000 homes painted teal sipping tea frustrating failures in class spaces high school castes information deliver barriers broken understanding fired emailed seamless efficient transmitted extracted from tiny pictures of autonomous machines.
23 March 2006
Excerpts from 20
This is a sequence poem i am working on.
Here are a few pieces of it i am fond of.
2)
take out
aaaaaaaa edit analyzed words structures
fireworks
aaaaaaaa reminders in faded yellow pages
stuck
aaaaaaaa floor ward & memory bound
by heater
3)
set phone on vibrate
or
create constraints of living:
eat only non-meat
shower daily
brush teeth more
or not
4)
mandatory bathroom stops
after drinking tea
one cup in the morning
one cup afternoon
two cups for study
rinse repeat
8)
can you do this in one sitting
or
do you need to get up to go to the bathroom
11)
hobbies include
biting fingernails till
hands hurt
&
roaming with empty stomach
(dinosaur steps)
only to find
nothing to eat
12)
save work frequently aaaaa (automated response)
but
never look back aaaaaaaaa (habitual tendency)
at
yesterdays remembrances a (memory lies)
of
real vanilla smiles
13)
In a panic attack yesterday Kutztown University student Christopher Tiefel grabbed a red emergency phone and screamed "Help me Batman!"
Here are a few pieces of it i am fond of.
2)
take out
aaaaaaaa edit analyzed words structures
fireworks
aaaaaaaa reminders in faded yellow pages
stuck
aaaaaaaa floor ward & memory bound
by heater
3)
set phone on vibrate
or
create constraints of living:
eat only non-meat
shower daily
brush teeth more
or not
4)
mandatory bathroom stops
after drinking tea
one cup in the morning
one cup afternoon
two cups for study
rinse repeat
8)
can you do this in one sitting
or
do you need to get up to go to the bathroom
11)
hobbies include
biting fingernails till
hands hurt
&
roaming with empty stomach
(dinosaur steps)
only to find
nothing to eat
12)
save work frequently aaaaa (automated response)
but
never look back aaaaaaaaa (habitual tendency)
at
yesterdays remembrances a (memory lies)
of
real vanilla smiles
13)
In a panic attack yesterday Kutztown University student Christopher Tiefel grabbed a red emergency phone and screamed "Help me Batman!"
05 March 2006
will
will scan weekends work
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa reworked words
will waste timings and repost checking
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa linear ideas
will capture weekends outside of
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa normal naratives
will work
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa reworked words
will waste timings and repost checking
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa linear ideas
will capture weekends outside of
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa normal naratives
will work
01 March 2006
the smell of paper*
PARTICIPANT
nose the size of a
ripened pear shriveled
sun dried & sandblasted
short black hairs
a wool coat brushy hair
dune wrinkle lines
each doubted expression
a cartoon caricature
missing teeth thirsting for water
a mosque's tower in background view or
an ad for Pepsi Cola
Yelling always
it was Sunni out
the crowd of Shi'ites
carried four blackened away
a final hajj
from Karada neighborhood
to Page A8 one dollar.
2)EDUCATION
Sunni Muslims are the orthodox
branch of Islam whose adherents
believe that Muhammad's successor
should be elected.
They comprise 85% of all Muslims.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Shi'ite Muslims are the
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa branch of Islam
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa whose adherents hold that
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Ali, Muhammad's cousin & aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa son-in-law, was
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Muhammad's successor.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Found in Iran Iraq
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Afghanistan Pakistan.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
3)PERSPECTIVE
news three days
aaaaaaaaaaaaaa away
curfew cooled sectarian violence
do not draw a picture
do not say a name
at least 75 Iraqis
aaaaaaaaaaaaaa (no u after q)
Mahdi AK-47 years old
379 people and rising
90% of Arab
population are dependent
on water that originates in
non-Arab lands.
numbers mean nothing.
words mean less.
car=bomb
Askariya Shrine in Samarra
a golden explosion
the CNN predicted civil war.
nose the size of a
ripened pear shriveled
sun dried & sandblasted
short black hairs
a wool coat brushy hair
dune wrinkle lines
each doubted expression
a cartoon caricature
missing teeth thirsting for water
a mosque's tower in background view or
an ad for Pepsi Cola
Yelling always
it was Sunni out
the crowd of Shi'ites
carried four blackened away
a final hajj
from Karada neighborhood
to Page A8 one dollar.
------------------------------------------------------
*or war poem through fingers and cultural lenses of a twenty year old white upper middle class american male at school on the computer his parents bought for him.
2)EDUCATION
Sunni Muslims are the orthodox
branch of Islam whose adherents
believe that Muhammad's successor
should be elected.
They comprise 85% of all Muslims.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Shi'ite Muslims are the
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa branch of Islam
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa whose adherents hold that
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Ali, Muhammad's cousin & aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa son-in-law, was
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Muhammad's successor.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Found in Iran Iraq
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Afghanistan Pakistan.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
3)PERSPECTIVE
news three days
aaaaaaaaaaaaaa away
curfew cooled sectarian violence
do not draw a picture
do not say a name
at least 75 Iraqis
aaaaaaaaaaaaaa (no u after q)
Mahdi AK-47 years old
379 people and rising
90% of Arab
population are dependent
on water that originates in
non-Arab lands.
numbers mean nothing.
words mean less.
car=bomb
Askariya Shrine in Samarra
a golden explosion
the CNN predicted civil war.
The Last Stall on the Right
split ends fall like fingers to the floor
(tiles like dirty teeth)
doubled over
we ignore
the ground we walk on
crushed with
boots sandals sneakers heels
(heel to toe: hard)
bare feet, naked
truth
skips these floors
but tattoos the walls
we make our proclamations permanent
(repainted every year-
we are afraid
to learn from our mistakes-
and i didn't really love him.)
hide reason
under eyelids infrared
in our designated darkness
(we don't talk in person anymore-
and keep our reasons to ourselves.)
soles
blistering cold
tiles
we come here
(sick sob sex)
and wash our hands
over and over
again
because someone else is in our stall.
(tiles like dirty teeth)
doubled over
we ignore
the ground we walk on
crushed with
boots sandals sneakers heels
(heel to toe: hard)
bare feet, naked
truth
skips these floors
but tattoos the walls
we make our proclamations permanent
(repainted every year-
we are afraid
to learn from our mistakes-
and i didn't really love him.)
hide reason
under eyelids infrared
in our designated darkness
(we don't talk in person anymore-
and keep our reasons to ourselves.)
soles
blistering cold
tiles
we come here
(sick sob sex)
and wash our hands
over and over
again
because someone else is in our stall.
28 February 2006
news
time escape unedited hands free listing capabilities
am i wasting yours mine and hours?
the sunni VS shi'ite
pckn out the times
lines of forecast bordered summers
do you get mad when criminals who are guilty are not convicted?
perhaps if you lived within a frame a tiny
photograph of my great grandfather enginer henry i imagine his name to be
pipe in mouth sepia tones full face in the cab of an elevated line in Queens
its transient its paper wirlwinds and soviet attack codes
perhaps not
its a feeling that something inside must be done and completed and said and revealed
a feeling that it could work out if i just found the wording
if i made a form inventive enough
to speak on its own
without my interface
with just you with just darts with just strings & perceptions & simple
formulaic relieve of quantitative emotions
haircuts at john the barbers shop with dubble bubble
always a mushroom
bowl
6th grade hair don't done again and again
trimmed
am i wasting yours mine and hours?
the sunni VS shi'ite
pckn out the times
lines of forecast bordered summers
do you get mad when criminals who are guilty are not convicted?
perhaps if you lived within a frame a tiny
photograph of my great grandfather enginer henry i imagine his name to be
pipe in mouth sepia tones full face in the cab of an elevated line in Queens
its transient its paper wirlwinds and soviet attack codes
perhaps not
its a feeling that something inside must be done and completed and said and revealed
a feeling that it could work out if i just found the wording
if i made a form inventive enough
to speak on its own
without my interface
with just you with just darts with just strings & perceptions & simple
formulaic relieve of quantitative emotions
haircuts at john the barbers shop with dubble bubble
always a mushroom
bowl
6th grade hair don't done again and again
trimmed
24 February 2006
after hours
two 0 one AM
cannot tell upside driving
(85 milesperhour 147 miles 1.729 hours)
or more
spent standing breathing exhausted after shower scents
present jitters nostalgic blast white mashed in selfish specifics
THE ENCORE HIT ME
route 1 to route 76 west
to 4 moons seen shimmering--
Galileo discovered these dreams
four hundred seventy six
years ago Italian post-it-notes--
look at the sky tonight
cratered moon
like
athletes foot eaten heels walking nine
blocks to Starlight
(a ball)
room at the front for
DANCERS
wanderers in Jovian ellipses
small sour milk white apartments
mental mold posted sharpie
SHAVEMOPEMEPLAYGUITAR
feed my beer money porcelain frog
hungry heart stargazing return
to indie roots concert waiting
lines go to bed at 2:14.
cannot tell upside driving
(85 milesperhour 147 miles 1.729 hours)
or more
spent standing breathing exhausted after shower scents
present jitters nostalgic blast white mashed in selfish specifics
THE ENCORE HIT ME
route 1 to route 76 west
to 4 moons seen shimmering--
Galileo discovered these dreams
four hundred seventy six
years ago Italian post-it-notes--
look at the sky tonight
cratered moon
like
athletes foot eaten heels walking nine
blocks to Starlight
(a ball)
room at the front for
DANCERS
wanderers in Jovian ellipses
small sour milk white apartments
mental mold posted sharpie
SHAVEMOPEMEPLAYGUITAR
feed my beer money porcelain frog
hungry heart stargazing return
to indie roots concert waiting
lines go to bed at 2:14.
21 February 2006
History Class
Jesus is in my class.
He comes late,
wears a thirty-year-old trench coat
matching the colour of his
shoulder length hair.
He took a nap once, and
asked a question about the
fourth crusade I didn't
understand. He drinks
large coffees with a red straw
and sits on the floor.
He wears boots not sandals.
He comes late,
wears a thirty-year-old trench coat
matching the colour of his
shoulder length hair.
He took a nap once, and
asked a question about the
fourth crusade I didn't
understand. He drinks
large coffees with a red straw
and sits on the floor.
He wears boots not sandals.
19 February 2006
Pittsburgh
I wrote this poem on my weekend getaway with Jenny to Pittsburgh.
It is titled: Pittsburgh.
A circulatory system of concrete
causeways. We rush-a red
blood cell--over bridges through
tunnels into stems of nerves extending
sky high
three blocks wide
and steel
stone cold
wind resistant windows to tinier
expanses--minute craftings of
ring finger rewards orange stone maroon
threaded gloves hold maplines
charted anatomies of this pulsing
organized metal saw mill of yesterday.
18 February 2006
17 February 2006
surfing
I feel like doc-like in my odd websurfing and findings and checkups right now, but found this on my sisters sight and enjoyed it quite a bit. It is about songs and what they remind you of.
THE WAY HIS COLLAR FALLS-SAVES THE DAY9th grade-sitting in chris’s room and listening to this on vinyl and then we went outside and he taught me how to play ‘hold’ on our front porch and rotto brought over mikes hard lemonade and I had to drink them all because chris didn’t like them and we threw them at YIELD signs on the way to the recycling center and when we got home I had to clean the house so that my parents wouldn’t know chris had a party while they were gone
TRUSTED-BEN FOLDS10TH grade- driving with chris in the mini van to do recycling and we went to kick the cardboard boxes into the big bin because we were angry and we realized that kicking thick cardboard boxes really does hurt [you wouldnt think so, but add the elements such as a breeze and 30 degree weather and you'll see]. And then we went to the tiger mart and got coffees and candy like we always do
THE WAY HIS COLLAR FALLS-SAVES THE DAY9th grade-sitting in chris’s room and listening to this on vinyl and then we went outside and he taught me how to play ‘hold’ on our front porch and rotto brought over mikes hard lemonade and I had to drink them all because chris didn’t like them and we threw them at YIELD signs on the way to the recycling center and when we got home I had to clean the house so that my parents wouldn’t know chris had a party while they were gone
TRUSTED-BEN FOLDS10TH grade- driving with chris in the mini van to do recycling and we went to kick the cardboard boxes into the big bin because we were angry and we realized that kicking thick cardboard boxes really does hurt [you wouldnt think so, but add the elements such as a breeze and 30 degree weather and you'll see]. And then we went to the tiger mart and got coffees and candy like we always do
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