Out of all the things
I could have done on this day,
that might have been fun, edifying
or charitable, I have chosen instead
to sink somewhere in flustered haze.
As if anything might be salvaged
from these uselessly plumbed depths.
August 21, 2013
X
August 16, 2013
Fresh Failure
Just trying to make a connection: http://www.citylightspodcast.com/success-failure-at-the-odd-fellows-hall-with-stewart-home-jarrett-kobek-and-john-tottenham/
August 11, 2013
Art and Eros
Often, around the middle of a week day afternoon,
I find myself considering the connection
between sexual and creative energy.
Torn by futile lusts, I seek refuge
from the vagueness of the day
and the promise of endeavor
in reliable memories and fantasies
that spill, reliably, into sleep.
July 29, 2013
XIX
I do not know the meaning of hard work.
But I know what it means to adhere
to a schedule of diligent work-avoidance
as if it were a regular job: a strict routine
of wandering around and lying down
and brooding over wasted time.
I don’t like to mix business
with anything, least of all pleasure.
July 24, 2013
Respect for Acting
If any further proof were needed that nothing is beneath me:
http://artillerymag.com/tottenham-corner/?utm_source=Newsletter+2013%2F07%2F18%2C+9%3A02+
July 16, 2013
Citadel
Am I empty at the core or just around the edges?
Are there riches therein? I wouldn’t know.
I’m weighed down in a warm white glow,
crushing the stark yellow dullness of the day
into dust, statically and statelessly drifting
through this haze of rust. Riding the waves
of lostness across the landscape of a desk,
into the bulwark of a threadbare curtain.
July 5, 2013
Before the Fact
I have mixed feelings about death.
It seems like the sensible option,
and it would certainly make a nice change.
On the other hand, I have some concerns
about incompetence and pain…
June 20, 2013
A Vain and Useless Rant
June 15, 2013
A Prelude of Sorts
For years I have tarried, secure
in the notion that all this luxuriating
in vicarious decay served some sort of purpose. Until
it became apparent that this extended arid preamble
had turned terminal, squashing any prospect
of fecundity. Fading without ever having flourished:
a dream unwinding, grinding
to a standstill.
June 10, 2013
Woodshedding
Grooming myself for a career in failure,
I studied with masters.
Then I realized: they were successful.
For how would they otherwise be known?
There is a difference between the failures
of the successful and the failure of true failures.
A matter of sliding scale:
The failures of the successful are celebrated,
broadcast far and wide;
while the failures of failures are obscure,
buried with them when they die.
John Tottenham 