Three kids in cat ears
dart across
Lights start high
end low.
We trail. . .
Minute splinters in the wood.
Stacked always
nearly ready
burnt out joints
on sidewalks
Monday, 4 May 2015
29/30! Thank Goodness You're An Expert at Crisis De-Escalation, Sally!
I miss the days when all my dread was existential.
The way the cable line splits the room in two does
more than any arbitrary corner could do. Lines of electrical
cracking across the entire wall, spitting sheetrock onto
the floor.
knowing nothing but a button
a trigger
and you, there, Sally
on the other line, for the talk down.
I miss the days when all my tap outs were
for for waterbreaks. No one sees those vans on their
tail,
Matters of national importance.
capsized
icecream truck
The way the snipers show in windowsills.
The way the phone cuts in and out.
The way your voice and the way you
can twist "wait" into a million little
seconds, you make the russians
trust you
What I'm saying, is, I'm just glad you were
here. Who knows what new craters--
allow yourself the victory dance.
The way the cable line splits the room in two does
more than any arbitrary corner could do. Lines of electrical
cracking across the entire wall, spitting sheetrock onto
the floor.
knowing nothing but a button
a trigger
and you, there, Sally
on the other line, for the talk down.
I miss the days when all my tap outs were
for for waterbreaks. No one sees those vans on their
tail,
Matters of national importance.
capsized
icecream truck
The way the snipers show in windowsills.
The way the phone cuts in and out.
The way your voice and the way you
can twist "wait" into a million little
seconds, you make the russians
trust you
What I'm saying, is, I'm just glad you were
here. Who knows what new craters--
allow yourself the victory dance.
Tuesday, 28 April 2015
28/30! There's Nothing Out There We'd Pay to See!
Riding back from from a river bar, the man across from me is covered in rats. They seem to be his pets, he's talking to them, or someone, about rocketpops. Every now and then a rat escapes and runs to the back of the bus, where the girl with two cats has to scramble to stop full on chaos. They both get off at the same stop. Maybe they're in love.
They rip out homes like picking scabs and scratch
their beards about the blood. They sell gas masks
and gas masks at the same stands, one for immediate
one just in case, and the whole town
turns out in zombie makeup.
The unfinished buildings look like bombed out parking lots built up instead of out. The phone-riders
and car-yellers alike are covered in a thin film of egg yolk. I've committed to swimming every where I go for a month, so I keep two fingers in a thermos of seawater. Who's to say if I'm lying or not? Who's to say?
When it rains, I don't have to keep my hands in the water. When I promised
to always be swimming, it was more an exhortation to the weather than
anything else.
They say it's a good view but
we're all washed out. Staring out a
high rise window at lights in the fog
like some kind of protagonist, but what kind?
hero or villain? Who's to say?
They ripped the playground out of the city center,
sent all the games to the dump. Now it's a shrine
to self importance and niche artforms. Look,
when the sun comes out there's a rainbow!
and I am still swimming, or lying.
They rip out homes like picking scabs and scratch
their beards about the blood. They sell gas masks
and gas masks at the same stands, one for immediate
one just in case, and the whole town
turns out in zombie makeup.
The unfinished buildings look like bombed out parking lots built up instead of out. The phone-riders
and car-yellers alike are covered in a thin film of egg yolk. I've committed to swimming every where I go for a month, so I keep two fingers in a thermos of seawater. Who's to say if I'm lying or not? Who's to say?
When it rains, I don't have to keep my hands in the water. When I promised
to always be swimming, it was more an exhortation to the weather than
anything else.
They say it's a good view but
we're all washed out. Staring out a
high rise window at lights in the fog
like some kind of protagonist, but what kind?
hero or villain? Who's to say?
They ripped the playground out of the city center,
sent all the games to the dump. Now it's a shrine
to self importance and niche artforms. Look,
when the sun comes out there's a rainbow!
and I am still swimming, or lying.
27/30! Rocks and Swords!
Given the unrest, and the absence of justice, those removed from the situation
had nothing to do but tend to their swan gardens and write songs on their lutes
about the sunshine and pose for daughereotypes with portions of grilled pheasant.
In the common areas, the constables and squires rode through the crowd waving
swords, taking heads off here, heads off there, and filing with the magistrate
when their shiny armor was nicked or dented.
Given the absence of solutions, or willingness of those with swords to listen,
ever, to the unsworded whom they swore to protect, those removed from the
situation danced on tavern tables and bemoaned the lack of civility from
those whose relatives and lovers had been beheaded and land ceased.
'Cannot they desist from such raucous thronging? They're disturbing my
path to the teahouse! It really is such a pity.'
Given the givens, a long stream of blood, rows of gallows, minted indifference
and calls for calm from those in towers, the priests exhortations about heaven
struck as simple and reductive, but hell we could believe in.
had nothing to do but tend to their swan gardens and write songs on their lutes
about the sunshine and pose for daughereotypes with portions of grilled pheasant.
In the common areas, the constables and squires rode through the crowd waving
swords, taking heads off here, heads off there, and filing with the magistrate
when their shiny armor was nicked or dented.
Given the absence of solutions, or willingness of those with swords to listen,
ever, to the unsworded whom they swore to protect, those removed from the
situation danced on tavern tables and bemoaned the lack of civility from
those whose relatives and lovers had been beheaded and land ceased.
'Cannot they desist from such raucous thronging? They're disturbing my
path to the teahouse! It really is such a pity.'
Given the givens, a long stream of blood, rows of gallows, minted indifference
and calls for calm from those in towers, the priests exhortations about heaven
struck as simple and reductive, but hell we could believe in.
Saturday, 25 April 2015
25/30! Gunmetal Grey!
of the options, black and grey
like a gun, the sales clerk said
seemed least likely to attract
attention or seem gaudy.
I can gaud it up myself with
stickers or dents. The entire
process, from plan cancellation
through code unlocking to
plan downloading
was three hours. the time
I'd planned to pay my healthcare bill,
see about some reimbursment.
but in an offwhite room
with a steady soundtrack of Stone Temple Pilots
where a ponytailed man compared
phones to weapons and used
"rugged" to describe protective cases
I realized the day I signed
this contract
was the first day of this month
I wouldn't be writing
a poem.
like a gun, the sales clerk said
seemed least likely to attract
attention or seem gaudy.
I can gaud it up myself with
stickers or dents. The entire
process, from plan cancellation
through code unlocking to
plan downloading
was three hours. the time
I'd planned to pay my healthcare bill,
see about some reimbursment.
but in an offwhite room
with a steady soundtrack of Stone Temple Pilots
where a ponytailed man compared
phones to weapons and used
"rugged" to describe protective cases
I realized the day I signed
this contract
was the first day of this month
I wouldn't be writing
a poem.
Friday, 24 April 2015
23/30! Time Lapse!
All your e-mails are timestamped 1 a.m. or later
early.
Each sunrise comes and goes without you
hopefully, the post noon ritual
of coffee
shower
sandwich for breakfast.
to catch up with visiting
relatives at 11 a.m. and they
think you a bit rougher
than you are
this is your six a.m.
Every night there comes a turning point
where it starts to feel like evening,
like the dark isn't
just mocking you for being up,
but all the possibilities of
evening.
Rode past in nightowl bus rides
the windows out to anything.
early.
Each sunrise comes and goes without you
hopefully, the post noon ritual
of coffee
shower
sandwich for breakfast.
to catch up with visiting
relatives at 11 a.m. and they
think you a bit rougher
than you are
this is your six a.m.
Every night there comes a turning point
where it starts to feel like evening,
like the dark isn't
just mocking you for being up,
but all the possibilities of
evening.
Rode past in nightowl bus rides
the windows out to anything.
Wednesday, 22 April 2015
4/22! Sims!
Down second, the sky is a video game. Pixeled buildings and drowning clouds. Odd bright angles. I keep swiping back to my blog post or article. Ducking out of downtown back to a video of a woman in high waisted jeans and a bra talking down to the camera. The camera. Me. The illusion is gone. The towers still lean and gleam, try to fall, try to stand and I'm here. The gorilla climbing the tri-squared blue-black sheen, the dome opens for lasers. I duck and weave past oncoming barrels, find myself in sniper sights from one of the lower housing complexes. I'm in no dodging and rolling condition, I'm in no fight or flight mode, I'm in no space for capitulation either. So the randomly placed swinging blades outside russell investments won't even catch my ear. The rockets firing from the edge of the smith tower miss and miss and miss and miss. My feet go blurry as I chug down tunnels, my arms fuzz in and out of focus when I'm in the light on third. There seems to be some sort of robot army assembling, and all I can do is keep trying to reset, get back to my videos, a pre-recorded one on one or something-- but now that my arms are guns there's not much to do; I never even got an instruction manual.
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