Thursday 4/29/2010 12:37:00 AM

In heavy slippers she explored the friction. Old nightgowns teasing the floor. With experiments on broken time machines. And the playing cards left in her hands. The arrogant wagers love tends to make on our behalf. All flat tires. And missing ladders. As she plots her escape path.

The calculus in her head admitting. It's simpler than she makes it. Just part these ocean and walk.

The rare condition of knowing plagues. In dull needles and deep paper cuts. I've always known. It's why I'm here. Attempting to forget. The dark cellars even time is afraid to visit. It's just math after all. A simple arrangement the mind can trust. A neat bow tied on these festering wounds.

I can go anywhere. Then. Here. Now. I've been. Dull pencils drawing on busy skin. Drunken artists arguing with the canvas. The future a threat. Her time machines idling. As she begins to forget.

Dry sponges. Weak wolves puffing. Ambivalent fingers resting on the trigger.

The comfort is in the why. The ugly how we've arrived at this.

The bridge as loud as our crossing was quiet.

Wednesday 4/28/2010 12:22:00 AM

Her flesh waiting on the multiplication in his fingers. Numbers will stray, but always come back to their sources. Blind ghosts straddling perception and sense. Incessantly calculating the value. Of every breath and each trembling shadow.

The preposterous servitude of scent. Discovering slaves in the the deepest trenches of men.

She coaxes the math. In obedient fractions. and rebellious decimals. Numbers make sense. It's their results that I dispute. Come with me. Find our neverland she says. I am small now. And this world is gigantic.

We're all small. And large. Depending upon the distance. More numbers I cannot convince. Some things cannot be measured.

Husks left behind after the meat has been harvested. A stubborn hunger proliferated solely by the quest to feed it.

Monday 4/26/2010 02:08:00 AM

A thousand ants it takes to make one more. We rush for that paradise. Not convinced it is. So many gods to pray to. All of which are deaf. She writes in chalk. Her useless legs. Toiling with the prospect. Of never walking again.

The stories roil over her in cumming blankets of men. She wishes. Life could be that simple. Or that they could see it isn't.

Pedalling on her punctured tires. As if the road is reason enough. Beating the lessons out of the chalk. As if such a thing can be erased.

She says I don't know her and she's right. Little stacks of underwear. Positing ultimatums on her vagina. Maybe we've been here a thousand times before. And I still can't convince her to live.

Sunday 4/25/2010 12:58:00 AM

Turbulence. The economics of skin. Make me wealthy. Make me poor. Cautious flowers. Flirt with the garden. In choices unresolved. Pretty things convince them to choose. Though the choices are naught.

Puzzles arrive. Fortresses are erected. Busy toothpicks and bored fingers align. Douse me in glue and say it's finished. Play the thorns against the blooms and pretend we are not lost.

I construct the world in riddles. and wait for someone to solve. I build myself in plastic limbs. and let them play with the dolls. I speak to them in the past tense. and let the future prove them wrong.

I can see the picture, but don't know what it wants. I can feel the bridges. Quivering under my sprint. I run. But don't get very far.

I start with the edges and work my way in. The picture is jumbled, but I remember. How it once looked. The world is empty and so am I.

I start with the windows. Working my way toward the door. The walls arrive in pieces. Some assembly required.

Saturday 4/24/2010 01:31:00 AM

Numbers decide. Her tattered gown. Subtraction convinces. Speculating thieves. The treasure is found. The grave is. Empty. Broken math and heavy bottles. Force the outline. Skipping chalk and the hungry distractions. Of tired wolves. Coax the picnic basket out her hands.

Small notations. In big assumptions. The numbers. Like divorcing hens. Leave the eggs. Leave the roosters. Useless.

Her cartoon eyes too big to love. Too small to dismiss. Saucers. Full of aliens. Petals. observing the rituals of the thorn. Dandelions. Spoiling the green grass. Blades yet to cut. Angry with the paper.

The liars. Inviting themselves to this massacre. The end sublime. Like dead presidents. The liars. With their boots on. The truth still naked.

Numbers. The jargon of weak protagonists. More victim than hero. She multiplies. In redundant steps. That try, but don't go up. Wearing the wolf in fits of retrospect.

Concealing the evidence. As her trial begins.

Friday 4/23/2010 12:32:00 AM

Waiting for the world to end. It never does. Puppets dancing on their tangled strings. Laughing gods trading in fists. Seldom Satan's baiting the hooks. As this river expands. To consume. Sinking strategists. Blank skin invitation enough. For a new confrontation.

Her fallen fruit still lay on the ground. Red apples and ripe obsessions. Spoil harshly in the discourse of the sun. But seeds remain. Still to covet. For fingertips and thighs. And all those pieces in between. That try to convince. The whole is contained within the pieces.

Torn capes. Heavy heroes. Trudge through the dying volcanoes. We would otherwise call choices. Smoke. Fire. Decision. In thick clouds smothering the sun.

Waiting for the world to end she wonders if it ever began. Monkeys with their big sticks. Promising of people. As the hours decide. As the pages pretend. To know. What is written.

If I can only die once, This should be it.

Thursday 4/22/2010 12:57:00 AM

The paradox in folds of skin. Unraveling. Her weight heavy on this forgotten dimension. Missing dandelions from the grass. As I study the confection of her lips. For traces of confession.

Paths. Confounded. By the awkward transitions of touch. I found them. Ambivalent wizards building their roads with yellow bricks. Her dream. In careful anemia's. Her hosts all parasite and politicians.

The diplomacy of skin is in its shortcomings. I need more.

These cruel cantilevers of touch. Leave me obsessed with the structure. What's inside doesn't matter at all.

Lit faces and obvious dominions Prove the fly's importance. In the preposterous anonymity of this flesh.

Tuesday 4/20/2010 01:10:00 AM

Borrow my skin. Wear it for a while. In busy thunderstorms. When these tiny raindrops rattle the dense earth that they hit.

Fallow eclipses. Yield the soil in solvent admonitions. Counting the years. As time unreavels. Leaving her naked. To prove that any of this has happened.

Leaving her struggling with the constraints of gravity. As is presses down. On the eggs shellls she keeps her moments in.

Moving toward the obvious speculations. Roosters happily fucking their hens. Not realizing. How many eggs are stolen.

Crawling inside these dirty nightgowns. Attempting to solve for x. In the rapid equations touch presents.

Monday 4/19/2010 01:08:00 AM

I waited on her. Bricks and all. In a glorious panic. As if something might change.

The rattlesnake threatening. Afraid or too disinterested to poison. A series of vague torments. To show how naked I am.

I caught her just as she was leaving. Off to abuse more adjectives. Phantoms trying on weddings dresses. The devil catching the bouquet.

She wept. That I didn't understand. The numbers. The sort. As the database extorted. Fresh meat. It's business she said and you are a deficit.

I waited she explained. For the walls to come down. And when they did I was alone. No one was there.

I cried over my time machines. I wept inside them. And when I got out. The world had barely changes. A thousand years. A million. I can't wait.

She takes off her dress. Pretending to know what they want. Fighting with green lights. Over the streets she tries to cross.

4/19/2010 12:25:00 AM

I don't usually do this. Depart from my poem producing persona and speak as if I am a real live human being. But I am in need of internet assistance.

I recently watched the movie Food, Inc. Damn you Netflix for not having a warning on this movie. I wish I could unwatch this movie, but sadly I cannot. So after learning of the torture of food animals I've determined I cannot be a party to that. I must forgo all meat and animal food products including eggs, milk, cheese, etc.

No easy task at all. Milk and eggs are in every god damn food imaginable. Chicken stock is in all the vegetable soups. It's fucked up.

So I'm making the transition gradually. I'm reading about nutritional yeast and ground flax seed and all that vegan mumbo jumbo. It all sounds fine to me. I'm just looking for some more pointers from real life vegans or vegetarians.

Just use the email addy in my sidebar. Tell me what you know about the lifestyle. I'm pretty clueless.

Technically I plan to become neither. I'm more of the ethical omnivore sort. I will eat dead animals that have lived normal happy lives and been killed humanely, but damn that stuffs expensive. Except tuna. Thank god for albacore tuna.

I'm just wondering if anyone out there has any helpful tips about what to eat and how to find and prepare it. The supermarkets here are far from meatless friendly. True I could buy my food on the Internet. But I'm just basically looking for advice from the more experienced non-animal consumers.

My email is the sidebar. Drop me an message. Anything you know about the subject. I'd appreciate it.

If you haven't seen the documentary Food Inc I strongly caution against it. It will render you unable to consume any animal product ever again even though you wish you still could.

If you are afraid to watch the movie for fear you will never be able to eat a hamburger again google factory farming for an only slightly less vomit-inducing understanding of the problem.

Saturday 4/17/2010 11:54:00 PM

It kept me awake for awhile. Flakes of skin. Resonating from the bones. The bulk of the theorum. Loss.

Needing. What is not needed. Confessing. Lies yet to be told. Weak bridges spaning deep gorges. As I look down. Assuming these wings are useless. And this gravity determined. To teach me the lessons I never learn.

Straw men. Reasoning with the heat. Like fetid milk flwoing from the cow's teats. The world slowing down. To catch a glimpse. Of the apologectic omnivore.

The window sweating. It's never cold enough. The glass deciding. How strong I am. Leveraging patios and porches. For smaller chunks of paradise.

A little bit is all I seek.

The world has nothing I want. It's all obscured by the flesh.

Friday 4/16/2010 01:01:00 AM

Snowmen. Melting. It stays cold only so long.

We fall asleep in the frost And then we wake up. To these deserts. Our plastic limbs melting. Failing us.

Setting out to right her core. In conditions of below freezing. She lies. Says she has a plan. Beyond her rickety time machine. That has brought her back to here.

Snowmen. Collecting. In icicles on her shivering hands. Feeling for the point on the dagger. As if words can make her strong.

The puddles at her echo fierce. Shyly she confesses her sins. To a round table of gods.

Carefully she shuffles those cards. The world in heavy diaphragms. I can't breathe. But I have. and will remember how. As these wagers rumble on. Erupting volcanoes. Thick clouds of ash. Choking the engines I've yet to start.

Thursday 4/15/2010 12:24:00 AM

The hours proliferate. Empty graves. Sure to be filled. Cracked dolls. Their tongues in their rotting hands. Scribble on the walls that keep them blind.

I watch the moon dance. In brief plagues. Diseases adapted to rather than cured. I watch the world. Each half spinning in opposite directions. Waiting for it to break apart. Spill the contents of its bloody womb. Harmless monster. Grunting in the shadows. Terrifying those too scared to look.

The world decides. Who I am. Will be. Can. In slanted elections. And spurious confessions. The ugly passes for beautiful. Since we've forgotten what that is.

This bleakness convinces hope in the desperate. Tragedy engineered to keep us complacent. Believing our time will come. But it won't.

The scar wears her face. With a profound confidence. The disease slips into her limbs. Like a lavish party dress.

This massive world yawns. And we are swallowed up in its boredom.

Wednesday 4/14/2010 12:16:00 AM

We were wandering between several realities. It was natural. That's what a body craves. What a mind wants. Choices. Too many of them. Chances. Too live. What we've missed.

She turned to smoke and disappeared into the sun. I think that must be what love is. Watching them leave. and allowing it to happen. Hard candy. Stuck to your teeth. For hours after the flavor is gone. Saccharine. Sweet at first. Turning sour as it lingers too long in the creases of our lips.

I counted her worlds. One by one. Until there were so many I could not keep track. I presumed some were real while others were manufactured. For the simple reason that one life is not sufficient for some.

She always insisted people are a contradiction. Body and mind torn between different dimensions. Lost and found in the same swatch of skin. Fighting islands no one else can see. Navigating oceans in sinking rowboats.

Determined to keep swimming farther into the sea, even though they're drowning.

Tuesday 4/13/2010 12:48:00 AM

Servants in the belly of the gorge. Worship the bottom. Because that is all there is. These Intervals. Fragile comas fool the heart into believing it has woken up. The flesh is a comedian. It laughs because we cry. It dances when we are crippled.

Finding the stairs. Predictable ghosts. Assembling the future in big stones and little sticks. Tracing the shadows. Broken mirrors staring. While I try to forget.

The hours. Spent. Wasted upon this rotting stage. The audience callous. As it listened. To the soliloquies of spoiled Macbeth's. And apathetic Hamlets. The dead, Skulls in hand. Uselessly. Pasting the flesh back onto barren skeletons.

Monday 4/12/2010 02:07:00 AM

Terminals. At the beginning. Fly traps and sandbags. Posting the brave to their battles. All frowns and honor in a deluge of ifs.

Terminals. At the end. Destinations suffocating under the weight of arrivals.

We took the train to far away. It didn't matter where. We took our seats and watched as the nervous windows told their stories. Smudges and all.

The barren playgrounds. The squeaking swings. Distant signs she could barely make out from her dismal window seat. Voracious machines underfoot. Devouring what lay behind. Choking on what is ahead.

She threw her stone. And hopped through the empty squares. All the while wondering who had drawn such perfect boxes.

On a such a defective world.

She assumed it didn't matter. Since she'd solved this same puzzle a thousand times. Every piece is the same. They all fit together no matter how you arrange them. It's all in the perception.

You see empty spaces. I see terminals. Letting people on. Letting people off.

It doesn't matter where they're going. Nor the places that they've left.

The chalk in their hands. Is still soft enough. That we have time to decide. Which stones to pick up.

Sunday 4/11/2010 01:44:00 AM

Matadors. Bloody knees. The corduroy swishing between their legs. The swords. Sticking the bull. The spectacle of death exploited.

I can see now. The parallels. The inherent resolve. In defiant time travellers. meting paradigms. Averaging the sacrifice. For what time is left. To realise. To become.

Minor lies on the tongues of gods. Still learning to speak.

No words. No language. Just the broken math. Of fragile monsters.

The matador's blades still in their backs.

Saturday 4/10/2010 12:15:00 AM

Choosing particles as her fingers come undone. Years unravel. Are discarded. Skin is permanent. Choosing. Pretending choices are hers. Defiant molecules. Barter with the nervous scientists drowning in her head.

One button. Maybe two. Opened. Then closed again. Gods in their highchairs. Vomitting us up. Choices. Wandering into her life. Drunk and disoriented. It all leads to pages torn and inkless pens. Nothing permanent except this skin.

Grim metal. Invisble carpenters welding. Random manias. Her clothes disappearing. Like clouds receding after the rain. Moist earth. Thick roots. Missing parameters void the equation. Only this skin parses to fill in the empty spaces.

When she was comes and goes. In silent songs of deaf gods. Toiling with the dead. She labels the grave. Empty for now.

Feasting with the demons she assumes the meat is fresh.

A lever. A fulcrum. A bit of physics. I try them all. Nothing works. Except the lies embedded in this skin.

The truth is. As frail as. The skin which protects it.

Thursday 4/08/2010 12:29:00 AM

Her extremities. Soiling her grasp. Nervous hexagons in the throat of the monster. Spoiling their stories in a maze of broken glass. Trying on. Trying near. The cold trench coat the stairwell wears. As her footsteps lead her down. Through the parrots and the ogres. Basket in hand. She still searches. For those hungry wolves.

The map. In vague differentials. The path in welts on her skin. She struggles with the translation. While the sounds of words gracelessly filter through the holes in her lips.

Reality diverges. As she sips her coffee over the remainder. Time takes its first steps. Then falls over. As she watches.

The map in her veins beginning to show. As she distracts herself with broken pencils. Nothing to say. Just heaps of empty paper. Demanding to know.

Wednesday 4/07/2010 01:01:00 AM

Pinwheels. On their last threads. As the wind is escalating. Seeds in their graves. Tunneling through the soil. It's only fiction. In that literal sense. Of how this skin fails to compensate. For lies we try to live.

The winter is ending she warned. As I humbled in my coat. It's warm again. Time for stubborn dolls to admit. That they aren't always correct. In their assumptions. That that world is linear. Or so obvious. As not to notice. When. A clown is undressed.

Without the makeup. They're just sad little soldiers with malfunctioning guns. Take away their circus and they seem so fragile. The soft clay of lazy artists. Spilling paint in the wounds.

Pinwheels. Mad atoms and callous neutrons. Selling their math. Like ten dollar prostitutes. Pinwheels. The glory of skin. A cheap souvenir in the service of flesh.

Monday 4/05/2010 01:40:00 AM

Sad she suggested. As the obvious overtook. Parables. In fetid underwear. The wolf not close enough to bite us.

This tired anesthesia arrives in conservative doses. I take the elevator. That failing time machine. Which leads me to approach. The devil. His underwear squarely around his ankles.

Sad she said. That lost should be where we find. The curtain to pull back. The stage upon which these actors would traipse. Obvious soliloquies. Struggle the flesh. Consume the corpses. Floundering in useless costumes. Pretending our words. In cold admonitions. The rabbit teasing the wolf. As its hole steadily deepens.

Sad she sighed. That we only have these words. Stubborn stop lights on our journey into the flesh. Priests and funerals. Dressing the dolls. For wakes that can't remember the dead.

At first, the explosion is enough. Eventually we are left waiting. For something else to happen.

Sunday 4/04/2010 01:06:00 AM

I warned her it would be ugly. This journey back. To places we never really were. But she insisted on going. Because memory is a liar like that.

There are walls she warned. Keeping us from. These tragic heavens. There are angels she screamed. Guarding the doors. And breaking the windows. In the corridors of god.

He says I'm still too small. Embryo in the womb of dead things. Kicking. As if only walls keep us apart.

Bleeding because. It reinforces my humanity.

Telling my sad stories about the people I was. Before I lost her.

The girl lost between commas. In paragraphs too long.

Saturday 4/03/2010 01:01:00 AM

The world stops. And so does she. Fleshy wrenches in the cogs. The frozen wheel of the eternal machine. Waiting to be woken up.

Their chewed feet continue to walk. Missing sidewalks on busy streets. The houses loom. Monsters with broken hearts. Playing patios for love in a poker games with the gods.

Time flaunts its parades. Slow moving vehicles. More flower than engine.

The princess kissing her corpses. Her princes not in garb. The princess. Arguing with her insomnia. Deaf threads mending the tear. Smaller moments would ignore.

The princess. In her lethal crown. Setting her lips to taste. The missing. Bored with what is gone.

Friday 4/02/2010 12:32:00 AM

I was busy explaining to them. How I had gotten there. From so many worlds away. It's only clouds I explained. And nervous rain. The portals have always been there. Regardless of if we can see them.

The lies play on her skin so lightly. Swift chameleons. And fortunate ghosts. Tell their stories backwards. The end after all. Is the only thing that matters.

And the end.

For us.

Came a long time ago.

Thursday 4/01/2010 12:37:00 AM

The moment muses on her. The truth in microscopic specks of dust. Settling on her eyelashes. While she stares out the window.

The lock on her door thundering with broken keys. Fidgeting and itching with random strangers. Where now. As if now is a concept strong enough to resolve. Chase the infection? In another dose of weak antibiotics.

The decimals in her head. Feeble percentages. Lingering funerals. Empty coffins. It was then. But I am now. The prickle of her lips. As the window shatters. Bits of paper. Between her fingers. A new picture. Same old puzzle.

Yet to be solved.

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