January 27, 2014
In a constant state of choking down bitterness.
Getting it all down in the hope of exhausting it.
Only to find there’s more, it multiplies.
How empty my life would be without it.
What a gaping hole it would leave.
And what could possibly take its place?
That’s a good question…
I’m drawing a blank.
To ‘let go’ of bitterness and resentment:
It’s an interesting concept.
I must try it sometime.
January 9, 2014
I will be ‘appearing’ as part of this bill in aid of a most worthy cause: ‘An Exquisite Salon for the Benefit of Making HM157 Legal’ at the fabled historic monument/ performance space. 3110 N.Broadway in Lincoln Heights. Saturday night, Jan 18th.
December 4, 2013
There no longer seems to be any point
in pointing out the pointlessness.
It hardly seems worth lamenting anymore.
After all this talk of giving up, just do it.
Don’t worry. Nobody will even notice.
December 4, 2013
And you know what that’s good for.
Your inlets are my outlets, and vice versa.
You get my mind, I get your body.
I give, you take.
The only drawback to this exchange
is that the opposite also applies:
You get my body, and I get your mind.
Or I don’t get it.
And I don’t mind.
November 15, 2013
Putting in the time:
Watching: the trembling curtains.
Listening: to the constant hum of indecision.
Waiting: to languish without remorse or hope
of false dawn; to be able to do nothing
and call it nothing. To sink:
where I have never sunk before.
To fade, only to be found again.
November 8, 2013
The other lives I might have led
all now might as well be
dead. Survived by no one.
Barren, without issue of any sort:
this withered bud, failed
in art and love. With no time left
to change my course. But time enough
for infinite remorse.
November 7, 2013
I am no stranger to waste, to bouts of tranquilizing
Self-abuse: drifting off with wilting rod in flowering fist.
Thoughts sliding like water across a pane of glass
And over the edge
Of the sofa and elsewhere. And tension detours
To parts unknown, on days that pass unknown;
Held together by dust,
By boredom and all its blossom.
October 25, 2013
It takes a lot of work
to create the fleeting impression
that everything is all right.
No sooner have I told myself
that I can’t complain
than I plumb a deeper vein
The occasional hard-won flicker of hope
is hardly worth the effort.
October 16, 2013
For too long a conduit I have been,
receptive only to the works of others.
In this way, in a way, I have kept myself
going; and were it not for the pleasure
and enrichment I receive at this font,
I might long ago have given up.
Then again, I might have
achieved something myself.