Dear, Googs
sweat honey iced
tea you have
backwards octopus
Zach
24 November 2006
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
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