Saturday, April 21, 2012

in country (indio) pt.3

  i have to fear the wind when she doesnt come in march. i feel shes an imposter any other time.

  so i pull away

  "youre not her"

  i pass by every day and it doesnt mean shit to me any more really. i remember wakeing up on the living room floor still wearing my glasses. takeing them off to wipe the dry tears from the lenses. faint images. faint whispers of emotions. a long time ago reminding me of the significance this place once held.

  it was wher poor people got married. pisas in cheap suits makeing an honest woman out of the pregnant teenager holding their anchor baby in her belly. the poor and the shamed that couldnt step foot in a catholic church under the condition she was in.

  there was a bus depot there. a welded indian that i used to think was a robot when i was a little boy.

  when i was a little boy

  we got our rings at the mall from one of those booths that people rent when they dont have enough money to lease a real spot or just not enough merchandise to fill it up.

  two bands of peweter

  hers had fake gems in butterfly wings

  mine was a circle of flowers that wraped around my finger

  i have creepy memory that i wear like beautyfull scars of invisible tatoo in my skin

 you cant see it

 only if i show you

 and then your horrified

  she looked beautyfull. she was gleaming and shit. she was wearing a dress that seemed just a bit out of the times and just a bit odd this early in the morning. probably the dress her momma would put on to go out danceing when she was alive. she looked beautyfull.

  she held on to his arm as he pushed the stroller. she was very animated. laughing and pointing yet very gingerly stride for stride with him. you could tell he didnt want to be up walking around this early but he could see how happy she was and that gave him a sense ease. a feeling of peace. like all the frantic prep work of looking for extra diapers, bottle of formula, bottle of water, baby toy, baby binkie, and wipes was all worth it. he was glad that she talked him into a stroll this morning.

  i couldnt help but stare

  i could feel her

  every body could

  she was radiating energy

  i parked in front of the liquor store because all the spots in front of the donut shop were taken. i feel bad when i have to park ther because i wind up walking through the gauntlet of the scum when i park this far away and have to explain to them that i dont have any change.

 "sorry all i got is my debit card"

  wich seems like a jack ass excuse to poor people as you walk into a donut shop. i always think of that pile of shitty change sitting next to my computer. i dont care about it but they do. i dont need it.....but they do.
i recognized the girl at the donut shop some how but i dont talk to her on a personal level because im a pussy like that. thats what happens when im caught off guard and smitten.


Friday, April 13, 2012

Black Holes

I can’t even read my own writing at times-

Evidence of black holes in my mind

Subtle enough to question-

If they’re even there at all…

I remember everything being so huge

Life-sized skyscraper jungle-gyms

Being at the bottom of the pool

And looking up at rainbows.

I remember adults being cruel

And kids making up rules

You had to follow-or else.

I remember half believing in magic

Saving baby teeth and lucky pennies

Going under bridges into abandoned houses

Running into witches and ghosts.

I remember my toys being my best friends

I loved them so much and they loved me back.

I remember thinking my mom wasn’t my real mom

I was a lost princess

I’d run away into the mountains

I’d pack away some crackers and cheese

And they’d all be waiting there for me.

I remember being outside in the rain

Jumping puddles that were lakes and oceans

Being alone, I was happy.

Holes in my mind

I can’t read my writing sometimes

I remember riding my bike early

When no one’s awake

They’re in the house and I’m on the street

I didn’t wait for them.

There are holes and spaces

Things that happened that didn’t really happen.

I walked on the ceiling

And rode in the passenger seat of a car that was driving itself.

Monday, April 9, 2012


Pupils rolled back to the top of my sockets

Gazing up at the horizon line

Where the sun hides-

Rocky hills

The earth built

That keeps others

From knowing we’re here.

Neck craned up to see what’s on the other side

Of the concrete wall

The people built

Who wanted to hide

Their landscaped paradise from us.

Who’s protecting who?