Blog Archive

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Commercial #1641

there's shag carpet beneath my feet
the color of kentucky hay.
shifting my navy vans makes me think of
where i've been and
where i'm now.
an old godard film plays on silent to my right and left,
the subtitles yellow as a
chain smoker’s fingernail.
the avant-garde art sneers at
my pathetic, amateur endeavors.
it feels like a cave in here.
cold and dark.
moist with eager hopes
and common dreams.
i'm sticky with sweat.
not from nerves;
fear said it's sweet fair well long months ago.
experience told my nerves to fuck off and
i haven't seen them since.
no, i sweat because my parking meter hides from sight
and it beeps in my brain.
the little red light haunts my imagination
and my 7th sense tells me
this won't end well.

not well indeed.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Purple Teeth

there’s that age old

it haunts me,
tricks me, and giggles at me,
as i stare blankly into my
bare, undressed,

since the nativity of that first
the conception
of that foremost
the gunshot pop
of that first pockmarked cork.

the question was

the sour, charming juice that cultivates
debate and sleep.
both the lonely woman and the
esoteric poet.
proof of the messianic and lifeblood of
the artist. 
the elitist scraping for prestige
the homeless searching to put
fire in his belly.

the question

i scratch my scalp. my eyes jump back and
forth and back.
my legs are sore. my brain is heavy. my
feet hurt from the day’s
lengthy waltz. i danced
my employer’s steps far too long today
it feels.

the question.

it’s that grind that
answers; the

it’s a red kind of night. it’s gotta be red
after a day like

yeah, it’s a red kind of night.