My Friend

The sweet wine,
neck of the bottle between
my fingers, crystals
of ice, slowly dying
circles below my wrist,

A drowsy morning night,
coming to its end,
Jimi Hendrix
bleeds in and out behind me,
he is dying, like the ice
he is always dying,

And you are there,
almost my friend
There, here, gone
to war, to fighting,
to dying,

I drift in and out of consciousness,
his guitar calling me back
for another sip, the warm morning light
acting a play performed by swirling
beads of water,
when the night begins
it is already at its end,

Jimi Hendrix,
me,
you,
my friend.

Minus the Iphone

Unseen stars
smile through the bluest skies,
The sun shinning brightly
to keep them away,

Time is a constant,
yet operates inconsistently
is whimsical however
uninspired,

All these pieces,
in their perpetual motion
or infinite stillness,
compete for you.

At your desk,
guarded from all,
save the draining sand,
I type to you
over distances
uncrossable
though surmountable,

in a contest for your attention
in a battle for your smile
in a war for your kiss,

Invisible to the stars
outshone by the sun
outmaneuvered by time

but,
and keep this very secret,
I like to think
I've won.

October 13, 2009; 3:32pm

I took a piece of paper,
she told me
"On it,
list your fears,
all of them."

Several minutes elapsed,

I passed it to her
She turned it over,
it was blank
on both sides.

"Very funny,"
She replied amused,
"So you are afraid of nothing?"

On the contrary I told her,
Absence
does not imply nothing,
it implies
Everything.

She

She stopped to drink
with
the dim bar lights
and empty stools,
to
the rain approaching
on a cascade of
purple clouds
marking blood red skies
for
what does night bring
but darkness and regret?

October 10, 2009; 2:38am

she kisses me good night
electronic,
bathed in unnatural blue light,
electronic.
drifting over distances instantaneously
electronic,
but never crossing over
electronic.
we stand alone and together
electronic,

whispers distorting forever
until the footsteps bring us closer
the marching phantoms
their world is colder
as we rely and beg
for loves cybernetic shoulder
to this end we sink older
never aging it watches over
bathed in unnatural blue light

electronic.

October 8, 2009; 1:04am (The Ram)

Abraham and Isaac

I think if I could have been
anyone on that mountain
I would have been the ram,
innocent, austere, righteous
the perfect (in)human sacrifice;

for Isaac's place he took,
Did he waver? Was he bound and gagged?
did he ask his father why?
Did he know he would come to prefigure
the crown of thorns
and its wearer?

To submit is to have faith
to be obedient is to die,

Isaac was unaware
Abraham all too prepared
and the ram, twisted in the thicket
the property of angels,
watched quietly
as God forsook him
and his seed.

Yes I would be that saintly ram,
and I would run away
and leave Isaac to face the fire.

I am

There is this insufferable sadness
it clings to my breast,
in the darkness,
turning corners, gliding behind me
silent, transfixed
a location a beacon
moss covered trees, glow
green, unearthly

a clearing lifeless,
teeming, a clogged artery,
a crumbling artifice,
table for the sacrifice of youth,
unknowingly innocent;
does she realize?
would you tell her?

that sadness is me is you is me,
walking toward you,
in the darkness out of darkness
into light, blithe nothingness

a collage of colors
meaningless, deprived of meaning
spanning time
from time, out of time, around time
turn the corner,
a dark corner
into-
bright shinning light, please
shield your eyes,
there is a figure waiting-
waiting-
not for you,
you are alone.
all alone.
alone.
I am left,
left forever.

October 6, 2009; 12:04am

Joe: why doesn't mine work tom

what the fuck

can you hear me typing

listen to how fast i can type

(fingers: typing fast)

me: are you really standing there playing guitar

Joe: !!!!!(hahahahahaha)

me: i can hear you

(Joe: that's my gmail profile picture)

well its called video chat

so i assumed

Joe: lol

(let me see if I can fix this thing)

my

first

foray

into- (incoherent)

You ended video chat with Joe at --:--pm

October 5, 2009; 11:43

I don't mind it,
You may think I'm obsessed
You might say it,
but I'm not

I'm just...uhh
infatuated!
yeah...wait...
thats technically
the same word, right?

the world is awash with
knee high socks.

October 4, 2009; 10:04pm (or Deadlines)

2 hours...
counting down,
made up of minutes
120...
119,
seconds
uncounted

sixty after 60 after sixty
upon 60 upon sixty upon 60

counting (118)
counting (101)
counting (86)
down.

toward an end,
that has no end,
men age and-
suns grow, shrink
die.

space remains,
bereft of color
a bleed
unconquered
everlasting,

A clock without a face,

an absent maker
laughing
swallowing

counting(75)counting(51)
counting(32)counting(29)

years
months
weeks      (5)
days        (4)
hours       (3)
minutes    (2)
seconds    (1)
Us            (0)

[without end.]

October 3, 2009; 5:51pm

5:51pm is when I open the document
my phone is charging for
the second time today,
It scolds me when the battery is full,

I leave it plugged in to
teach it a lesson, lingering
over unfinished
papers, papers, papers;

walk with me
there are trees I remembered once,
nothing truly leaves you
nothing is ever truly retained,

Like a flower I gave my mother,
what color, what fragrance? we know
because we never knew
we create it
I create it
the document is closed at 5:57pm

You Know... (October 2, 2009; 7:20am)

I don't like (him)

so 
why 
does it seem to be
that
(dude)

all the time?
(duality)

October 1, 2009; 10:10pm

An iphone in motion,
an omen,
a sigh,
a southern twang 
and sorrow
and anger,
a locked unlockable,
try

      to think, undreamed
of something, anything
to do
to see,

              to be uncertain, a credulous 
whisper of certain terms,
a capricious mistake,
of technology
of technology
repeat(3 times)repeat,

And there must-

o she's sad, and 
her sweet voice-
(atmosphere)

distorted by the future
and screens obsequious,
begging(lying) for human touch-

(covert) 
lascivious!

and they tempt,
                       tempt us
give and take us-

leaving us 
with
(impalpable) 
permanance. 

She Likes Steak, Especially Petite Filet

She’d gone to freshen up. His hand rested on his glass. It was cool against his fingers and the ice floated there motionless and nearly imperceptible in the candle light. Their food would soon arrive and he day dreamed about what he would say when she returned.  For her birthday she had made it clear that steak was what she wanted to eat. An odd request possibly for a meal meant to be romantic, but knowing her tastes he had not refused. “Let’s make the most of it,” She had said, excitedly, “It is restaurant week.” So he had made reservations at Ruth’s Chris’ Steakhouse, an odd name but perfectly explainable: a woman named Ruth had bought a man named Chris’ steakhouse and retained the original name. 

So there they were opposite the candle light, her chair empty about to be filled and him alone among couples and parties and families eating steaks, mushrooms, salads and potatoes. As if an alarm had sounded the moment their main course was to arrive, she appeared out of the far right corner of the room and began moving toward the table, the waitress carrying their meal coming from the left at nearly the same speed. Two trains travelling toward each other on a single steak powered track. They arrived together and he winked at her and thanked the waitress. She sat down smiling broadly, somehow the silverware already in her hand.  “Smells so good,” She said giggling. He touched his glass absentmindedly and laughed, as much at her enthusiasm as for how much he loved her. “Ready!” she said bouncing in her seat. He shook his head and reached out for his fork.

A searing pain.

Startled he pulled his arm back.

Seeing stars and Petite Filets.

She looked at him, a piece of steak impaled on her fork.

“I think I burned myself,” He said, a curious expression played quickly across his face, “Look.”

He put his arm out toward her, “Hurts pretty bad.”

She looked at his arm, lovingly and disinterestedly and concerned and hungry before popping the piece of severed steak into her mouth.

“Watch out, These plates are really hot.”

In Every Heart...

flowers scattered
haphazardly throughout
my room
littered with memories
still smelling of Her,

radio obscured
in the morning haze,
a sound
barely audible
hums

She lies beside me
a phantom,
an indent on my pillow,
a figure in twisted sheets,
a passing glance

Fall's crisp air
bleeds into Summer's tired breeze,
like Her fingers
through my hair
ephemeral,

we forget,
we remember,
recreate
and transform
always
pausing,
always
swearing,
always
lost
and--

Her voice
from somewhere,
calls me back
an unreality- a memory
laden with memory-

the remains of a kiss
a fissure through a universe unseen
footsteps paired on a dance floor
a half empty glass of wine,
the two of us together
shaping worlds

And so it goes--