February 2012
5 posts
January 2012
6 posts
devinemoore:
Devin Moore- Re: Stacks (Bon...
Maggie, In Winter
In winter, Maggie says she’s never seen snow before. I put on the kettle and heat up tea bags with my mittens round her favorite coffee cup telling me to “Buck Up” in block text round the side. I tell her that snow is bittersweet. She shrugs, spoons sugar into her tea. “Buck Up”
On Tuesday, Maggie stares shyly out the window. She is thinking about snow. Postcards and shop windows painted with...
Me: I think I'm gonna go to sleep now.
TV: lol but good shows are on.
iPod: sleep? Is that a new app?
Sleeping position: lol I'm not gonna be comfortable.
Mind: what's the meaning of life though?
Temperature: lol it's too hot and too cold.
Noises: oh, you said be louder? Okay.
Body: Lol time for itches.
Person I like: Hey
December 2011
2 posts
November 2011
1 post
There’s a beauty to aloneness I never knew I needed until now. I don’t mean loneliness; that blur of humanity swirling facelessly around you, your hands forever unable to reach out and touch someone. Forever unable to get anyone to just stop for a moment and emerge from that blur. That’s another feeling altogether.
Aloneness. The sky unimpeded by light pollution. Ears pricked by a chill wind and...
September 2011
4 posts
1 tag
peixet:
4 tags
November 2010
1 post
Dirty Knife
October 2010
1 post
A light in the attic there was dimming. The bulb flickered and shouted and there was a host of gnats like some kind of ghost crowd come to feed on flesh. Sitting I felt their smallness and their hunger for some treat as if I, man, filthy animal, could quell such a passion.
September 2010
3 posts
”In my next life I want to live my life backwards. You start out dead and get that out of the way. Then you wake up in an old people’s home feeling better every day. You get kicked out for being too healthy, go collect your pension, and then when you start work, you get a gold watch and a party on your first day. You work for 40 years until you’re young enough to enjoy your...
The White Insignificance
And yet so little depends
On the crowing
Of a rooster
.
Eyes glazed in the morning,
Noon and evening
Sun;
.
And so much on
The thinning
Of his roost
.
For Sunday supper, dimpled skin rid of
White feathers for feeding the
Farmers’ children
.
- in response to William Carlos Williams famous The Red Wheelbarrow
April 2010
2 posts
Feed
my anorexic ideas of time.
It's Not As Simple As It Seems...
earthearthearth earthearthearth earthearthearth earthearthearth earthearthearth
-Ronald Johnson
January 2010
4 posts
Loneliness is a passing fad. Or, at least that’s what I told myself. I had just watched Waking Life for the second time. After, I did all that the things that people waiting patiently do. I lay back with my hands in my hair and blurred the lights with my eyes. Turned on some music and sang along. I got up and paced around the dimly lit room. Whistled. My mother always kept the lamps low and it...
“Maybe sparrow, it’s too late.”
...
I don’t believe in this sort of thing, you know…but if I did? Yeah, I’d be hoping that even though we keep going off in a thousand directions, every now and again we get together for a short moment and it’s right. It isn’t perfect and we’re not always happy and, yeah, we end up crying and regretting and forgiving and falling asleep, to wake in the morning...
The Bohemian Manifesto
“They have poetry. The Bohemian traipses through a sky brightening constellation of ideas, illuminating the tangled pitch dark sky of dense, impenetrable black holes, unknown galaxies, worlds, otherworlds, underworlds. The Bohemian is drunk on words, paintings, carvings, plays, love affairs, travel, meditation, olives, cypress trees, everydayness, movie images, video images, sounds, naked...
December 2009
3 posts
It is good in my lady’s house,
Every shape...
Where is the heart? What is the heart? The heart will thus be, in the future, wherever you save real treasure, that which is not visible on earth, that whose capital accumulates beyond the economy of the terrestrial visible or sensible, that is to say beyond the corrupted or corruptible economy vulnerable to moth, rust and thieves. What is implied here is more than the pricelessness of celestial...
November 2009
1 post
Myself, The Existentialist.
throughout this life passion is easy to find yet harder to follow but when the road is swallowing me whole and the people’s faces blur into the treeline i will call upon the melodies, those memories that abstract me i’ll dream up the valley that i love so much wander its desert paths and rocky sunrise ridges i will think about the face that i love more than i know about the hands...
October 2009
2 posts
Window.
im going to miss the birds. windowpane, stripped and, trees wept from the moaning storm drives them away. tips of skins and fingers alike make attempts at reaching through the sand pane of the cold to the birds and their softness. fly. dive. dip, die? yeah, i’m going to miss the birds. in a melodic dementia they squeal and a song and dance never quite repeatable. through hail and the fire...
September 2009
3 posts
Walking
i feel like every group of friends has someone who is just there because they’ve always been there. the reliable, the one who’s a bit odd, the one who everyone always forgets about. not on purpose, but because they’re an afterthought to the group. wallpaper. no matter how big and loud the print is, it’s still just wallpaper. it’s still in the background. i guess...
August 2009
7 posts
The Asteroids Galaxy Tour
Amplify Your Voice →
Furr - Blitzen Trapper
“I was told my soul was old
then why can’t I understand it all?
if my soul was really old
I wonder if i could change this world”
- ‘Monte’, Zee Avi
July 2009
4 posts
Zee Avi
A silent mouth is musical. - Celtic proverb
Moment/Real.
you know, there was a moment there.
it was real and the breeze blew my bangs
high above the city that always sleeps.
pointed fingers, a heart in the pattern of the street lamps.
there was a moment there. it was real.
ghost melodies reminiscent of a time of 13 years old,
guitar guitar. weep weep.
dangling legs over tail-gate,
lonely but not alone.
there was a moment there. a real one,
...