Friday, April 25, 2008

he-man's manly thighs

consider me silent and manly.  a drop in an oceanliner.  a frog in a mess.  movement will be the death of me.  and you too.  i can hear the melodies in your dance.  i know somewhere deep down you are probably beautiful.  but the church is on fire.  the white house is sinking.  we are living in our own karmic filth.  and there is no way to speak of such things without losing someone's attention.  so fill up your gas tank with sea horses, rein in the sparrows, pull the drawstring for the sunset, and wait for the countdown.  part of me hopes that i'm just a pessimist.  because i'm worried there's not much time left for being hopeful.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

the tea kettle is screaming something about hell

they took our portraits underwater and now we look like dead people, sitting in frames in a dining room that people politely walk through without saying anything controversial, always agreeing with everything.  the papers sit crying insane claims from inside their metal boxes on street corners, already looking like the bleak pointless catalogue they will be in twenty years when we look back and wonder what the hell happened, and find no answers there.  

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

streetlamps don't blink when you say 'i love you'

there is a slow rising, a bellowing from deep, tiny heartbeats, and a few balled fists.  while the first rain is still strong in your nostrils, i want to rest with you.  my grandmother was strong and crazy.  she is dead now.  i still feel the rasp in her voice, the stale cigarette smell of her car, the blue veins pressing out against the skin on the back of her hands, the way we spun and spun and how it seemed like we would never stop spinning when she ran that red light.  there was that incredible feeling of knowing no one is in control, of knowing death is standing right next to you, and then feeling it leave.  my sister was crying in the back seat.  my grandmother seemed confused.  i felt like i was supposed to speak for her.  like she wasn't really there.  i couldn't have been more than 9 or 10.  she was incoherent.  she complained of pain in her neck.  she thought it wasn't her fault.  the thing i can't help but wonder, is if your family history is filled with bad people, is there any way for you to turn out okay?