back and forth through actual air

Everyone knows how hard it is, after you've been on the road all day,
to stop driving. You go to sleep and the road runs under the bed like a filmstrip.

A black and white cave rainbow arched between two shoes.

This place is like a haunted turnpike, closed down for years,
where things still happen in the little turnoffs to the renowned teenagers
that never came back.

If Christ had died in a hallway we might pray in hallways or wear
little golden hallways around our necks.

My dragonfly, my black eyed fire, the knives in the kitchen are singing for blood

Don't you wish poetry were more like the music business? I do. I wish a poet who put out a first book that was amazing or even just pretty good would automatically have a follow-up expected, and a contract for x number of books over y number of years. Sure, some would disappoint with their second effort, while others would stay the course, neither better or worse than their debut. But there would also be those rare few who would make you swear that you like the new one even more than their first, even though you never imagined them topping the first one - ever.

I could ask my friends when the next Richard Siken book is coming out, just like I ask them if they know when the new Sunset Rubdown CD is coming out (June 23rd), and they would tell me, or say something like, "I heard it's all done but the release date got pushed back from October to November because of artwork rights or something."

I wish I could go to the poetry store every tuesday like I go to the music store and check out what came out that day, see what little-known poet from Montreal or Raleigh or the UK is being called the next big thing. Who would be the Radiohead of poetry? The Modest Mouse? The Kanye West?

The constant battle between the part of my brain that is annoyed by girls and the part of my brain that wants to have sex with girls.

______________________________________________________________________

Nicole doesn't believe me when I say I don't think I'll ever get married.


exhibit A: I don't like dogs.

exhibit B: I don't want kids.

exhibit C: I don't want to have a career.


At least I am responsible for coining the the term "stay at home husband."

Oh wait, nobody reads this blog or knows who I am. Somebody else will get credit for coining that term, even though they didn't.


Damn.

gurlesque not turpentinesque

The way girls/women/feminine manifestations are cultured cannot be divorced from our notions about the female body. Consider: testosterone, from testicle, from the Latin root meaning to testify. Estrogen? From oestrus, Latin for gadfly or frenzy. Culture informs biology informs culture...

Danielle Pafunda is smart

Therapy

the patient was instructed to talk for a period of time
without regard for topic or continuity

02/09/84

last night I was reading about crows…every spring they attack the newborn
lambs…they go for the eyes, hack out the eyes…I wish I could watch myself
being born…I wish my mom didn’t have to die like that…the farmer said they
have to stand up…when they stand up they’re safe…