Tuesday

when the world splits open
for those seconds at a time
i can hear the earth whisper
'come home'

Thoughtless

I didn't think of you
Last night as I slept
Creeping feet outside the bedroom door

I didn't think of you as I showered
Scoured pores to white light

I didn't think of you in the glow of flumes
Swarming street lights with tax-rich pavement
Throbbing under sun

I didn't think of you

Bartender

Best finish that crossword, so you can tell Facebook how you feel today after waking up at the crack of noon, oily makeup stains on your pillowcase 

Down another shot of gold and saunter to our side of the bar

My eyes burrow into your cheap skin, boil you from your feet

You feed on the suffering of others,  throw back your head and laugh like the horrible thing you are

I'll tip you as I always do, so you can buy your new boots at the mall

Move Along

And your hand was bathed in white light
Pressed hard against me
Warmed by the opening blood vessels
Swarmed by the scent of your breath
Melting into your fingertips
With gentle hand on hip

Wrecklessness our only plan
Kids for a night
Breaking rules
With blanket forts in toe

Lock the door
Keep me in the corner of your room
Feed me orgasms and truth

Let me help you with that

But there are strangers that care
Randoms that stand with you
Forcing us to act as community
Begging for every foot-to-floor you can manage
Waiting with contemplative rage for your enemies
Clinging to your putrid pride

They will meet you in the hall
Bounce babies on your knee
And pass rice to your overfed mouth

But you will ignore them for your selfish depression
Life of guilt, led by greed, unaware of anyone in need

paul

the last time i saw you

you were in a box

remnants of ash and bone

with swarming people

and awkward introductions

the priest said your name wrong

i will find you in my delirium 

after this drink

laziness

and it occurred to me
that i have been a little shit
sitting on my ass
and waiting for art
to find me in the hole

dung beetle that i've become

and i still think of
the four year funeral

angel

'you look like a four year old angel

with broken halo

fresh for the recital'

when you sleep i disappear

crumple to pillow

and leak for hours

she said 'are you ok in there'

he said ' i feel like a piece of string that has been threaded and used to sew a hole'

smell this

i can smell food cooking 

and i'm comfortable in someone's arms again

a nice little article on smells and memory

new to my room

There's something to be said for aesthetics.

San Diego

"Honest communication engenders mutual respect, and that mutual respect makes askers out of beggars"  -Amanda Palmer

I'm so very happy I decided to call my friend, Aaron, and ask to come visit him in San Diego.  He footed the bill, because he knows I'm broke and I'm so relieved he was able to do that.  I'd never had Russian food and, let me tell ya, it's worth a flight next to a screaming baby.

I've been reading Amanda Palmer's new book, 'The Art of Asking' and it's made me think of asking in a very different light.

Here is my tattoo (given to me by a guy with a 2 year waiting list, Kyle Walker at Guru).  We asked for a session and he came in on his day off to do my Banksy piece (which I could also not afford).  Turns out he's obsessed with sharks too.  I have a megaladon tooth I will be giving him in exchange for his time and kindness.

This San Diego trip showed me that life can be about missing, guilt, and remorse, but it doesn't have to be.  It can be about giving and in that giving you will see gifts.

"The gift must always move."  (-AP)

San Diego