lost with you

staying up late into the night and still
early for you. i am listening to the world series
fills the room with sunshine in the muted

waves of sound

the away team has won every game and my heart
can still hear yours. you would laugh at me

for sure, to call the hour
late

we would be just getting started

out looking for videotapes and alleyway treasures
and trouble

in five days we turn time back again
will we remember, you and me?
we strung out different images

off the same
perspective and
none of it looked real

all i have to say is that i cannot forget
what happened. getting lost
with you

getting lost
changed my life

not just on

prose (original)

i hardly ever dress up. i was raised in corduroy and cotton. took me twenty years to tear up my clothes. love of a thrift store and all you can find. life underground because main street got old. i could not appreciate anything. until I found you.

poem (remixed from prose)

i hardly ever dress up

i was raised in corduroy and cotton

took me twenty years to

tear up my clothes

love of a thrift store and all

you can find life underground because

main street got old

i could not appreciate anything

until I found you

(re)cognition(s)

i thought all over you, i am sorry, i mean no harm, all my memories playin across your body and face like runny egg-white shadows and you don't know what to do, so politely ensconced listenin to me go on and on about stuff we forgot purposefully long ago -- OH -- the damage i might do on accident, for me you would do anything, for you i would do anything, making something of you you are not, here with our cutoff gloves playing fingertipsies, blind to the sign language we are groping -- THE -- cognition is not fully lubricated, does not cover the entire street and buildings and sky and short bursts of nature in the medians, i guess in this ragtag mind i got, driftin here, pausing over there -- BY -- the cracks in the roads whereby loiters and got no business to be, trance music, clubs, dancing, you and me, why can i not hold up on our benevolency -- PLEASE -- i mean no recognitions, move along little thoughts, fly away, move along, there are interior spaces up in northern provinces, Canada and the like, which need fulfilling -- SPACES -- we will bundle ourselves up and head out into icy quiet not-threatening ones,  warmth of coffee and small talk, overtures of what we may be if we simply let ourselves trudge forward and go

Journal # 11.21.16

You and me, we coexist. Can I describe for you the life you have not lived? Buttons where there were zippers, snow where there was rain, silence where there were people. The television set. But we have so much in common. That's so very nice I could squeeze you like a teddy bear, then fall back asleep. If I see you in the park and study you like a painting, if I read you like a magazine, in joyful discovery, may I fall in love with the complexity of you. Between two points you travel, on lunch break, switching lines on your cell phone, waiting in line at the café, removing your glove so your device can recognize you, swiping screens to get to the mapping application and plot out your next move. I will embody your background the best that I can. I make for pleasant scenery, they say. I understand how it is to be so busy in the life. I am honored in your presence. Not to have time to peel an orange, or a sunset. One day this careless wandering of mine may end, too.

helicopters and obamaphones and you

Life can be pretty strange and you don't know what to make of it, so take it as it comes. Last night I went to bed in our beloved police state and woke up startled at 8pm as a helicopter was flying very low with loudspeakers and searching for a 'suspicious person' near eggplant alley. All the soft edges of the last polite evening have been pushed and shoved and formed into something bigger than the pushes and shoves. We are left this morning with a lot or enough or something more than nothing I guess. A thermos of coffee sweetened with cream and sugar... and I still don't know how things will work out between us, you and me, or if it will continue on and be space harboring satellite transmissions to obamaphones and tower drops. I remember when it was once chemistry. And then it was magic. That lasted quite a while but not long enough. Once you have magic you can get awfully upset when you lose magic. You want anyone who had anything to do with the magic to disappear, because they remind you of the magic you lost. And now I am left peaceful and guarded, cause if you come with your late afternoon talk show dsyfunction a-knockin on my door, I might just have to call the cops.

dominoes. heaps of clothes -i

We got pushed and shoved until we formed into something bigger than the pushes and shoves, something resilient and not without a heart for a fight. Outcasts on the margins and nowhere else we wanted to be. You could see it in our eyes, night after night. One could tell that's how we hooked up, you and me

all i got this morning is you
all you got is me
and two battle ax lounge ax young
blood kittens

suffer some more and you will
have something

we are daft
      first draft
we are punk

tough shit if anyone thinks they know
how we will work out

peanut butter jelly
and skunk

me and you of all the meanings
could be derived. like the mountains
a long long time ago

even when it was now
me and you got drive.
and never will be
again

i kinda wish sometimes
we were still
friends