13 december 2008

Dear Truth, I want so badly to believe in you.

20 october 2008

On Saturday night I went to Chuck Ragan's Revival Tour at the Triple Rock. There was a bit of trouble getting in because the show was 21+, and there were only two photography/video passes for the three of us (my dad, Pedro, and myself). Neither were under my name, so it took a few phone calls to clear up.

I had listened to a few of Chuck Ragan's songs via Youtube and Myspace and didn't dig it right away. However, the performance definitely changed my mind. The energetic mix of folk, punk, southern rock, and a bit of bluegrass simply blew my mind. Reminded me a lot of Murder by Death and William Elliott Whitmore. I enjoyed Tim Barry's set and Ben Nichols (of the band Lucero) absolutely destroyed me...in a great, heartbreaking way. It didn't help that both of them were wasted and almost to the point of crying by the end of their sets--it was extremely emotional but that's what I liked about it. I managed to take a great photo of Ben Nichols and every time I look at it, I am in awe of him. I gave his hand an extra shake at the end of the show.


I've recently met a lot of fantastic individuals and am enjoying getting to know them. I've never been much of a deep-talker, but I'm learning more about myself just by verbalizing my thoughts. Better now than never.

6 october 2008

My grandfather passed away in June. His birthday is tomorrow and I'm celebrating it with the few happy memories I have. He loved me (and all of us) in such a cruel way and for that I hadn't seen him in years; I didn't say goodbye, I didn't go his funeral, I only cried once and it was a day late. It was a choice made out of love and pain, not of pity and guilt like he would have wanted.

Since his death, I've lost 20 pounds and am aiming for another 15. I'm promising him that I won't let a sickness of the body spread to a sickness of the mind (and vice versa). He understands.

20 april 2008

yesterday a recovering meth-head showed me the healing needlepricks on the reverse side of his elbow; the place between his pointer and middle-fingers where he would shoot up on his worse days. he jokes about it now, showing me his red-eyed death-hugged mugshot, now friends with the old prison guard who will never forget his face. he's small, this healing man, his voice taller than six feet or even ten...

sometimes i'd like to get inside his head.

today i woke up with groggy thick grass on my breath. i thought about the indents in Small Man. it's not often that you see death and touch it, but yesterday those inverse-braille-bumps reminded me that death is every day. i read that skin and was hungry for life-- instead i went home and cut lungs with a smokeknife. i laid down and heard voices in the walls, felt like a blacklit dream with soft repeats. it's hard to reconcile my passion and an obsession, two polar strangers and the same.

the small man says it's easier to pass the time than to count the days. for me: the fine line between yesterday and today is the same tripfall consequential intake.

11 april 2008, for james and soul

right here so far away
i'd jump the sea for you
i'd bite the earth for you

to give you the world,
its light alone;
that light is meant for you.

that drumming little pinprick
who resonates your skull
who needs to step out of little red
that little redblue room.

Sunlight is meant for you.
Heaving heat that holds
That light
all sun and truth.

and i would, i would on any day
carry you along that sandy stretch
from the windy hill to the calm salt-sea
that sea i'd jump for you.

and i would, i would in any hour
unfold soul's flag
shake down the dust,
to stand it straight
and flying high.

life's light was meant for you.

30 march 2008

A wise one once said
“because it was built by man because it was built
by anyone it exists. Barrier. It’s proven I say it exists,
it exists, if only to me, if only feigned, it exists.”

And won once.

I could be brilliant

And write all the words that

have been written

screamed, thrown, emphasized, erased.

Skeletons say “what have I done?”

and melt in earth’s dark mind.

angels live above their bones

a tribute to their time.

I could be empty,
say,
it’s for a Greater cause
a Bigger beat
a Softer note
A friend who never was.

past is present, after all,
to what i held so true:
To live is love and never loss,
though lost it is to you.

23 january 2008

you that hunger lies within
it drinks you out and keeps you in

some times i see that spiraled stair
i taste the mouth that is my own
as you are me
and i am yours

and i is me is mine

some times i hear that crinkled laugh
like lonely birds drinking gin
as hollowed sharp
as melodies
and i am me is sighing

so long and far
that dark-brood dream
yet birds their voices chime

you that will spread out forever
in this tired thought of mine

11 january 2008

oh poor girl
that come to me
11, 6, mother mary
that gold-haired junebug
scattered pits,
and then who hold your secret?

lights off hands up
you see a haven, heaven
it's too good for not-too much

snap that wire
wrap round yellow
rev-er-berate that speckled cud
that little mother mary

05 january 2008

to you unfold is to fold and crease
licking corners, to rip to curl
those chinese finger traps
coming through that
finger trap
all shine and soft and new

and all the world's a stage.
and styx and stones
and
deux ex machina
swing me away

to fireshade, orange and gray
that seeps
and
drips through his small face
howling, swallowing each new moonshine
supermarkets with neon fruits and the old man
"are you my angel,"
and the rest has been said
and deux ex machina
took him away

04 december 2007

fingertip lace--
that silver sparkle
glimmering
beckoning touch--distraction and contraction
of words flying darts at me
your wide hips that haunt my dreams

and softly sticking sideways
smiles
you write my name in angel skin
and kiss the air to right again
my sweetly secret never-been

25 november 2007

twig's wick
a breathing aching pointed thumb
her eye dents on rusted doorknobs
brassy finish to her sunshine skin
the whiteness of air
of seconds,
time,
bring dark shapes to her snapshot mind
and birds prey on her selfless frame
weighing her beads of sweat
and crackle-snaps of berry wine

footprint bruises along glassy blades
of grass
and flesh
red and green arrows,
boldness,
clash with crystal words of morrison,
ibsen, chopin, hooks

then quiet release breaks
her noisy stare

19 november 2007

you are still water
parentheses
arching(forward, back at me--
you hear the needing,
olive spheres)
your roughness that i'll never see

comma,
space
an echo-hum electric sea
the fog beneath your silent
tongue tripping over me

warm brushing edges
the trusted fate,
a paper love without green leaves.

26 may 2007

i swell
heart clenched arms stretched
empujala
while i pull

sweetly tangled
midsleep in
your comfort,
mine,
your weak hands that i love

(te jalo dentro de mis sueños
tocando mi vida con las puntas de mis dedos)