Big One

Big One (11/13)

There's that lie that is told about how much you miss how it was.

It's actually a missing of how you felt.

How eyes can only rest on something once.

There's the lie of snow on windows at Christmas at Thanksgiving.

The family sitting around a fire or television.

It's the missing of a holiday without cancer without coughing without illness.

That's the Big One, the one told constantly.

That it used to be better that it was ever something else.

It never was, it was just everyone's last time.

Principally

I finally figured out how to indent in a post. So now you will be seeing the poems how they were actually meant to be seen.


Principally (11/12)

The goal is to burn - break all the bars

It is not enough to mark

There must be indentations
tattooings

it must bleed like hell

The goal is to hurt - to scar
your heart

It needs to be difficult for you to breathe

You have to feel
the spike
inserted in your skull

Perspective

Perspective (11/11)

The glass has paint on it - a scratch - grease
but on the other side is snow and the darkness of late fall

So there's that

It makes the paint whiter looking - it was bluish to gegin
against the bruise of sky it's pale

The sky isn't really bruised - it's cold as steel - a sheet of
oxidized stainless left on a burner too long

There's that scratch - which looks like someone with
hard grating knuckles - tried to claw their way out the 4th floor

The grease is from hair - a head leaning on the pane

Not sure where the snow is coming from

Bad Romance

Honestly...has anyone been so fashionable and plain old crazy in the music scene lately like Lady Gaga? I know that she's derivative, bubblegum dance but she seems to know and use the hell out of it.

And she is waring those creepy as hell hoof shoes form the Alexander McQueen 2010 collection.

And she somehow gets away with it.

Armistice

Armistice (11/10)

Page - I ask you to leave me be
And by page I mean mind
I ask the blankness to melt

Mind - I ask you to cease whirring
Your gizmos are magnificent distractions
But tire me out

Ebola

Ebola (11/9)

A swarm of gnats
under your skin
Little black risings
move with your beats

This is an inner drum attacking your meats

It is visual slippage
at your peripheral
Inner eye infected
with imagination

And your insides huddle for lack of attention

A Single Man

A Single Man looks amazing:



It was directed by Tom Ford. Fashion man and fellow Santa Fe transplant. I couldn't think of anyone else to make a weird, stylish, AWESOME movie based on a Christopher Isherwood novel. AND, the art direction was done by the Mad Men folks. I mean...I'm there. Already.

For serious.