"Who says I can't get stoned?"

yyeeeeayeyayeayeyaaaaayeayeayeayeayeayeayeayeayeayeayeayaaaa.

february 27th, 2009

he says things that are spiritual in nature like,
"she looked into me, saw me, i know she did."
But these things, said too often, lose magic.

I am no magician.

But I've experienced some:
pulling into driveways as the song slowly fades, a seamless weave of time and tune.
A winter's day that hints at June.
Who's to say whether or not the rain will come?

I am no weatherman.

But I've sensed the coming downpour, seconds before it breaks the clouds and I've thought snow ahead of the falling flake.

Do I believe in coincidence?
Must there be a reason for the seasons, and
who can explain why we yearn to run barefoot in the warm summer rain?
or why we're tempted to walk in the tracks of a train?

I am no conductor.

But I've driven myself mad with regret, only to forget that
"i looked into you, saw you, i know i did."

empty.

I go walking in my sleep
to a place where the script doesn't meet my needs, so they change.
I heard my teacher say, "This is important. You'll need to know this. Maybe it would be wise to write this down or put it somewhere where you'll remember it."
And then he told a story about sushi and love. When I realized that his lines, straight from the script, were permanent I got all nostalgic about that time we went for bad sushi and I didn't like it - but I ate some of it anyway, and even took the rest of it home with me in a to-go container.
I never ate it later.
As the screenplay continues, line after line, I stop typing. Space, space, space, space I stop typing.



I'll need to know this.
I'll write it down.
I'll sabotage everything I ever thought I'd figured out.
Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
This is what happens when I don't eat.

skittles

When I really concentrate, I can taste the rainbow.
I don't even have to close my eyes!
Are you jealous? Don't be.
Are you interested? Listen.
All you have to do to taste it, too, is concentrate.
Don't take anything... don't take anything too seriously, silly
it's only a game - BUT in order to win, or feel as if you're winning, you have to pay really, really, close attention and repeat after me:
I can taste the rainbow.

What if I did not?

Questions fall from his lips like the last leaves of autumn,
hardly even pressing ground.
Our ears press into the ground while the earth animates what is behind our eyes. I like it hear. It has been one year and I
don't have much to repent for -
just the guilt that accompanies not having any answers
for you
before
I left.

ew, love is gross!

She squirmed in her seat as the projector clicked
photos in front of her face, and the other faces, but mostly only her face... she only knew her face. Actually, she couldn't see her own face, but from what she could feel she imagined it looked the way she imagined it would look.
Shocking! Each slide more shocking than the next! Shocking!
Blackout.

late parades

The only gift I have to give is wasted
time. It is, yes it is, too late to take back what I wrote yesterday.
As soon as it peppered the moleskine it came to life in a destructive
beginning. And it was good.
It paved an understanding of seasons: it's almost apple.
Apple crisp leaves - crunch.
The sour proximity of the first snowfall, so soon.
All I ask is that you return the favor, send me some spare minutes
of your
time. Anything, check under the couch cushions, just make it quick -
I don't think I can..
I don't want to wait
for the mailman.

wordflow

buy a day, pay in catch coins, cheeky change, yes.
i missed. i'm missed. you, miss? spokes spin, tick-tick-sick
i see the soccer team, trotting two-by-two
i missed a goal, i miss goals, i miss the goal-
keeper. keeper friend: that's what you are.
stay in line with me, two-by-two. you are the goal keeper
you are my goal keeper
and my keeper friend.

barntrees

Come into my world.
The grass is soft and the shade trees perch in places here and there.
I can be here while you can be there... this works. I promise.
Outside of my world is the little blackbird, a pencil and a spoon. Also, you.
You keep coming and going as you please, leaving the door open.
This isn't a barn. It only looks like one from the inside out. Not
from the outside, that is. Red-handed, Rugrats red, painted white. The stains
on your hands and knees from the soft grass give you away.
You're inside now, Go change.
and close the door behind you, gently.