kind of old school

"Words are treacherous and fueled by lies! They seek our destruction, for that is their liberation!"

every night

I press my pillow, folded in half, against
my head, and ignore the other, refusing
to monopolize my bed. I sheathe
myself in memories of green
July, or purple-white bursting
forth from Fell, plundered for
my hair. I keep always
to the right as I turn
over in my sleep.

stay tuned

I just sat up suddenly in bed, groped for a pen, and opened the red notebook I keep on my nightstand, writing furiously before my ideas got away from me. Finally the inspiration I'd been waiting for, so long beneath the surface, now ignited by circumstance. I have a Project. And it's going to be here. Soon.

an honest verse of longing

wish
you
were
here

two perspectives

For a complete failure at
everything that matters, I am
surprisingly functional,
or
for a generally functional
person, leave at 8:30, home
by three, hours in the library,
meetings with professors,
hands raised, questions answered
with a "very good, Miss
Holbrook," it's a suprise how
ultimately well I'm just
not

mission

My goal in life:
fighting the good fight
against sobriety wherever
it may lurk. Think
I'm winning.

not even a little pactways

As I read the last words of
the State of Texas Department
of Corrections (on the advice
of Linda Meyer), I thought
of mine, aside from the obvious--
love you, family and friends,
etc.--eight words to you. No
matter what you did
or said--
I never broke my promise.
Love you always.

Isn't that a laugh?

hurry up

it has come to my attention that
my statute of limitations is
about to run out. So let's
make this quick, okay? Here
we go: I drink
a lot and sometimes
it's cold (not yet
it is POETIC LICENSE)
and I am sad
about my ex-girlfriend
I think that
covers it

competition

She fills pages of the legal pads I gave her
with "banana-spiders," "ethereal," "centenarian"
from the Coffeehound--not house--
and a thousand miles away I fill mine
with "auditor," "magistrate," "unenforceable."
I think two lines a day and call it
poems. I worry she thinks she
has lost me, or I have lost myself
to statutes. Restatements. Archaisms
never my style, now my trade.
But listen close to the poems
I'm not saying.

inevitable

only early September and
already I repeat myself

day so far

best
sandwich
ever

an apology

sometimes all I know how to say is
I miss you

faith

"You believe in love and not
the things that get in
the way," I told you. And
me--what do I
believe?