Saturday, March 27, 2010

doomed like flowers

i suppose we all are

Saturday, March 20, 2010

I wish i didn't have the capacity to understand what love is. Its tiring and rude, but oh my god would i kill an army just to feel your sarcastic kiss right now

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

x posted from sometime fall/09

believer of cherry trees and paper cranes
the future in our tea cups
burnt fingertips
the young and over sexed
i may be insane
but that's all in the genetics
and i'm free of that family tangle

frozen by desire

dear god
i am wrecked
a wreck
i am a whisper during mass
i am cake after sex
i am that moment before sleep; the endless ocean of a million dreamt up lives living in the crease of your eye
distant and vague, something so far away
a w ay

okay i am serious

i went to sleep last night with no job, no car and nowhere to live
was woken up by a phone call for a full time position, called lady to tell her and she gave me that blue monster of a car that has been sitting out front forever, looked at an apartment and fell in love...then found out the rent was almost $100 less than what i was willing to spend in the first place

i'm trying to remember exactly what i did before falling asleep last night so i can replicate it tonight and fall asleep dreaming of winning the lotto.....


robert and shana parkeharrison-my personal favorite right now

bruno dayan

andrea galvani

fumie sasabuchi

james hopkins

Monday, March 15, 2010

a sleepless ramble

i was a child in a dream
foolish with hunger
ignorant and bluish
brushed ponies manes, ate the flies as they fell free
real life was not so different
swallowed down you and your day old whispers
held your nude frame with rebellion more than passion
we had a hard time keeping faith while held up in my bed, swearing at the curtains unparted folds, like the space between teenage legs
its not right to speak of young girls like so...
but i was once so young in a dream or drugged out state or a drunken memory
i dont know
i just remember i stood around naked and brushed a horses hair

Sunday, March 14, 2010

little bird

Was it the moon? Cut up like a dirty fingernail that twirled your wild thick hair until knots of silk plagued your moth eaten scalp?
I've missed unbinding those tangled wiry strands while laughing into your mouth, yet calling it a kiss. Open lipped and fresh, always with your pale slit eyes staring back without an obvious tenderness but with contemplative affection. Its these tiny indiscretions that i count on the scarce peaks and valleys of your flattened fists, [so much the same as a child pulling petals from a weed disguised as a daisy],
Indecision strikes silent bells whose vibrations crawl up my legs, the long and the short, the nefarious nature of it taking residence in the hollows of conversation, Yet how female of me to assume anyone but myself can know when my speech breaks, when the words become less patient, when want exceeds need and each sentence becomes less about anything but feeling the movements of my jaw rubbing against your hands that reach and reach and reach but can never fully touch the smallest bits of myself that i keep forgetting to expose.
Those pale slit eyes never tire, they simply accept my naked viridity without any judgment
They break me down to color and shape, and i am left to wonder what the geometry of my face means
Again, a laugh, a kiss, your milk and bone cheeks, a second of thoughtless sleep ripped open with the abrupt awareness of your painfully beautiful perfumed youth
The prickling bells back down my thighs. I could live in you forever