littlebird i don't know where my bones go
when the two of us lie down.
we fall together like dollops of batter,
viscous limbs merging.
elbows and hips, throats and ankles
everything fits together.
I cannot get uncomfortable

alone in my bed,
my bones worry my skin from the inside.
tender sore spots
wake me up and
roll me over.
pillow under my side, between my knees.
nothing feels right

but my skin against yours
and gone are my bones;
my flesh turns to languid taffy.
I relax
like a fist unclenching,
like a tyrant surrendering,
like a taut string loosening.
I have never slept so well.

stork daddy kiss me in my living room
and fuck me on the porch
show me to your dining room,
and we'll complicate your best china pattern.
open up your dusty cupboards,
let's crawl where the knives lie down,
show me to your linens drawer,
in a sea of bleached stains,
we'll float untouched.
in the shower,
we'll press against the glass door like steam.
let's fill the house with us,
and fill ourselves with the house.
let my memories be rooms,
that i have to look for you in.

endless desire there is no way to warm the inside
and the outside's far to hot.
i call upon the most clever parts of my brain.
heavy breaths and sad tomorrows leave no choice.
worlds are breaking and i feel so cold inside. icy and alone. frozen sleep.
that's when i put my mind to work.
the closet in the hall contains many coats. warm and thick. made for winters i've never experienced.
i pile them on, slowly. one by one.
the ice inside me has taken over. speed is a foreign concept.
sleeve over sleeve, sweater over sweater, scarves and beanies.
i trudge down the narrow hallway once again,
to the yellow bathtub. yes, how i've enjoyed that tub throughout the years.
shivering cold piled in cloth, i step inside the shower.
i crouch down--why, crouch is an ugly word.
kneeling there, a twist of the knob containing the "H"
scarves, mittens, coats. i pull in a towell or so, just in case.
heat pours, soaking my hair, weighing heavy under the baggage.
knees to chest, i'm still cold inside.
still dead inside.
days roll by. he asked me if i had a black eye. "no i just don't sleep."
my clever shower experiment was a failure.
my hypothesis drenched with me in that steaming shower.
i even let the water fill until it dripped over the sides.
but nothing suited.
i just shivered and sobbed.
such an unappealing picture.
bunched in a ball of clothing, unable to breathe in the steam.
i'm not one to give in though.
maybe if i bathe in ice, i will remember warmth again.

cold hearts
make cold lives
and cold tears
and cold cries.
no wonder i like ice cream. . .
the sweet example of
what happens when something beautiful dies.

ashmanzhou she was there again today
wandering by
she glanced up again on her way past
just a glance
the barest hint of a smile

ill wait when she comes back again
i saw her again
wandering past
on the way to the bus stop
i think
she didnt look my way

maybe shell pass tomorrow as well
she went by again today
she didnt look up
didnt smile on her way to the bus

maybe she had to go to a meeting

she came back early today
she didnt look up
but when she went down the street she looked back at me

i wonder when shell come back tomorrow

i have a 'problem'
with my smiles
if you couldst just see me
thou wouldst truly understand
so i prefer as probably do others
that i not smile

and i think she would not hear me
even if i shouted
(her name?)
at her

she didnt come for ages
and didnt go back the same way
she didnt look
and i didnt see anyone pay any notice

i think she was late

she went by again
she even looked up
and waved
and laughed to herself

i think ill stay til she goes home again

i saw her this morning
almost missed her
but as she strode past
she gave a final look around her shoulder
and saw me on my balcony

i wonder if shes walking home right now

she didnt come the rest of this week
i waited for hours though
staring into the streams of humanity
passing far below me
i thought of going down but didnt

i hope shes back next week

she came back
but only in the evening
she didnt look up
because it was raining
all the cars were deadlocked in puddles

i hope its fine tomorrow for her

didnt happen but still saw her
almost missed her because of her raincoat
a blocky ugly plastic thing
so unlike her ungraceful
she came home agin in lighter drizzle
but she didnt look up at all

i hope the rain goes away

she came again in the rain
though it lightened up
by the time she went back past
she looked thoughtful
but not up at me

ill stay to watch her tomorrow

she didnt come yesterday
mayhap she was sick or tired
or just had something else to do
she came today though
about ten minutes earlier than usual
and went home on the later bus
i think she missed the earlier bus
and neither time she looked up at me

i hope she comes back next week

my glasses were delivered this morning
ten minutes before she was due to arrive
she came today across the street
amidst the wave of humanity
she looked up laughed waved and then
walked away with certain grace
silent beauty smiling face

i will watch for her this afternoon

she came again today walking by
going home from work i guess
though she didnt look up again
i guess one glance a day is more than enough
she was walking much more briskly than usual
she was two minutes later that before

ill sit out here until she returns tomorrow
thou art distant 'hey now' for there
is many reasons i do not thou i do
dream forever of doing just that
though thy distance is not thyself
one is pure physical-i am four floors up
and going down to ground would take to long
another is physical though more than that
and i why i venture outside not
coldly burned into my soul forever
see scars_that_make_up_me for detail
i see this detail as pure uneeded
as i see it in my face every day

i saw her today again walking by
and again going home
she was troubled this afternoon
crying inside though outside countenence
remained firm to all around her
i wonder why she was so worried

i will watch for her tomorrow

she walked past again silently
still emotionally limping along
so distant from everyone but herself
she looked up not in the morn
nor again in the afternoon
her mind as mine was turned to other thought

i watched then as i shall in my dreams

i watched her as she walked
she walked not alone
she and another woman older more bent
walked by and away
laughing to themselves
she did not look up at me
she went home agan alone this time
again a darkened self indulging
in her own sancity of space

i shall watch for her again

saw her again today just got back
been to hospital for a few days
asthma lost my puffer and almost
didnt call out closed my eyes
and sat in my room to cry
anyway i got back today
and walking in at the morn
saw the woman passing by in flesh
just a mere breath away from me
she saw me paled to see my face
ruined in such close vicious detail
but still she waved and hurried away
i think i shall sit on my window
never again dreaming lost by weight
of crushing reality
what will she see when passing by
and looking up at me?

i shall sit in my corner in darkened room
empty and try to feel enough to weep

i saw her at the supermarket today
she saw me and waved
her name is sarah
she thinks the new floor is nice
even though it squeaks all the time
when you walk on it
and smells like melted plastic

she walked past
four minutes late this morning
she didnt look up at me
perched a floor below my old seat
she was in a hurry
i wonder if she got to work in time

AAM my innocence. God knows why.. its a silly thing to hold onto and eventually it dies on its own without the threat of incineration but its the only pure and unflawed thing I posess.

nocturnal I probably wouldn't notice if it was. but if I did, I'd light a cigarette from the flames and watch it go down.

Cornerstone fanfrigginabsmolutilytastic

unhinged j'espere que je could oublier 050804
pritheemydear must be a different view
to be a me with a you

mahayana mere representations of our powerlessness in the face of time and the elements |rust trinkets of a pendulums masquerade|

[time eats away at everything]

in the power grid of eden, electricity flows with the confidence of rivers. streams of bacteria, pollution, lava, sentences, words, letters, binary code, acoustic bile, the amniotic fluid of rust-fed chains whose nature bleeds mirror shards like obscene patterns of polymorphous perversity converging with dissoluting minerals of ambivalent meaning...the alchemy of love is a fixation whose liberatory potential can only be realized in a kind of psychogeographical drifting that takes place in the fluidity of flexible environments.

follow me through all the itchy twined frays for in my world, where our movements... beyond time... promote the iron rust of sin, chains do not shatter like glass

for...["rust is just the metal bleeding"]

mahayana [i am your wings and they are beating]

sab you children are never going to get there at this rate ...

sab wanders in
dumps three green bucketloads of paper cranes on the floor of blather


and wanders away again

Kate the white candle
singalongs with one snare drum
the absence of salad dressing
how you'd always fold in poker,
but if I complained, you would stay in, and I'd win your money
Dr. Zhivago
mutual smiles

Borealis rain...we never did waltz.
pennies...until I lost the one in my shoe
tea before bed
chai in any form
overly affectionate cats
obnoxious drums
stale beer
taking the lrt
watching someone walk with your particular gait.


it doesn't hurt anymore...but I'll always miss you.

Rhin love was driving 45 minutes in the wee hours of the morning to purchase a cherry slurpee, just because you asked for one.

love was sleeping on the floor beneath you for an entire year, because you said the sofa was more comfortable for you.

love was being entranced just by the mere sight of your face screwed up in concentration.

love was me waking up every half hour in the night just to monitor your breathing.

love was crying with you.

love was enduring month-long Pink Floyd binges.

love was us keeping it real, and staying utterly optimistic even when everyone else forgot that you were a human being.

love was lying beside you on the roof of a building in the freezing cold for hours just for the mere possiblitiy of seeing one great meteor.

love was me reading to you, so that you could hear the story too while you were fishing.

love was chasing a sunset with me, and watching you hold your breath in anticipation like a child on christmas morning while i struggled to name it.

unhinged sam


j'espere que je peut oublier
unhinged i guess that's why i trusted him in_bed
i would watch him kissing me
he was always the last one to open his eyes
so deep into it
it always took him a minute or so to feel me staring at him
he hated the word cute
but it was the best word for him
i still can't figure it out
he was such a nice guy
except for the whole serial infidelity thing
he was always the last to open his eyes
i wonder what he thought about

unhinged HEY phantom

the way we used to do that around here back in the day was you put the person's name at the top and then you were 'the repeater'


is flattered but a little disturbed at the same time
unhinged or


. Curiously enough, I was going to respond to your grumblings but accidentally clicked the never mind link, and the page to come up was or_something - a sign? Eerie.

I tried to give this blathe a disinteresting and inconspicuous name so that people would not find it. I wanted to gather the blathes I didn't want to forget. A personal inventory if you will.

I know my actions are controversial, and I do not intend to stop them. I can, however, exclude you from my inventory if you wish, but it will leave a little empty hole where you ought to be.

unhinged that's alright; i'm glad i'm included in your little inventory.

it was just a little strange to see that here when i didn't put it here.
unhinged it could be worse; you could be starting fights or saying stupid things using my name.

. Oh, I know you better than to try that. 050813
IGG a shameful hot flush
of embarrassment

inadequacy at it's purest.
. (crawling_along_your_spine) 050905
IGG hmmm
i'm in an inventory!
it feels weird
but cool.
i thought someone was posting under my name again and came in here ready to rip the shit out of whoever did it.
at least i read it first.

feels strangely pleased to be included.
sab send help

Em you put the lie in believe

dan you put the butt in the butter 050911
blueberries for you the lights go down
and you step up to the microphone,
looking out to the small crowd of people gathered to hear what dwells inside.

you realize you have nothing to say that has not already been said a hundred times, but still they sit there waiting.


maybe because the world is vulnerable, so fragile its individual performers carefully presenting original twists and turns to voices peviously heard.

new meanings to old definitions.
fresh accentuation to stale utterance.

conversational rennaissance.

theatrical dialogue.

writing on a chalkboard with a crayon and letting the sun melt it in a novel way of erasure.

sending handwritten letters on perfumed stationary with envelopes made from watercolor paintings.

reading books to children, looking up occassionaly to see eyes fixed, gazes set to a world beyond this one, that they alone create.

blueberries for you i sit alone on the bed
sheets yet crumpled,
pillow still fragrant,
memory of our sleeplessness fresh as the parting pain.

in the absence of human touch,
i am an animal discontented.
i am a bird perched on
the lonely tree longing.
i am a flower struck dead by frost.
i am a butterfly with a hole in its wing.

bella morte.

in the loss of flesh on flesh, when words were sighs and groans, when music was the sound our lips made, when two bodies united to make one explosion.

you have gone away, but only time must pass and once again your hair will flow as a river across my chest.

after the moon rises and cuts through the thick october clouds like a child with scissors never quite staying on the lines, after the last crickets seranade the end of indian summer with their lilting swan songs, after the shadows of the massive, century old walnut trees paint the leaf stewn grass, after the horses come out of the black night, grey ghosts emerging from silent thunder, moist breath in the outstretched palm.

after then, you will return.

ever dumbening Urban creeks get shunted and covered, their beds of liquid mesmer corsetted and silenced. It crosses my mind that were the pharmaceutical megacorps to know of their healing, the streams would be erased altogether. I make my way up Codornices Creek by weaving back and forth along the street grid transecting.

The creeks are swollen today, calling me with throaty song, their health and mine intertwined. At a small bend, the six-tree stand of coast redwoods holds sway over the parsing of bubbles. My hiking boot soles are glued to the rain soaked bank by physics, by metaphysics. Two more members of The Guild of the Moment - a German Shepherd and his man - sit and contemplate nothing, drugged as I.

A runner, a yapping standard Poodle, and refreshed eucalyptus and bay trees showering scent are all drawn here, where muted light and sound perform as expected in any holy place. I bury my face in the wind, now in the role once served by a linen cassock.
. (creeks) 050928
misstree gravity is strongest at the center of an object.

his meat is nice, but not exceptional, visually speaking anyway. this is the case with most males, so it's not surprising. but i remember clearly when i first saw him, that little ezbake oven light going on in the nether regions, the fluttering of a cat's tail involuntary in my chest. nerves are always the truest tell. and i felt like i was staring whenever i looked at him.

not fascination and not **** but interest o_yes and entertainment isn't quite the word, it feels cheap, only observer-based, and when the cockles of heart and brain and fuck are tickled like that it is very much a two person affair, even if i feel too high and clumsy and alien and flaky and anything else i can trip myself with to feel like i'm really there, like it's some dumb teenage fantasy cleverly disguised. until now there wasn't a Need.

i blame it on my cunt. of course, there are many things connected to it, it being a major organ of sensation that isn't given enough credit for its wiring to emotion and instinct and energy, and i blame all of that wiring as well.

but the things you did to it... it's no metaphor and not meant tritely when i say it was magical. the impact carries much further than the bundles of nerves that you play upon. and it's so hard to put my finger on why i am so drawn...

but somwhere in that soup is the car door being opened, is the crazy grin and bloody lab coat, is an unexpected hand on my breast, is ink in forearms, is oceans of small subtle difference but the same set of islands, is the beginning of Knowing, is a hand ungentlly repositioning me even as i try to orient myself, is an image unembellished and still blurry, is a taste in my mouth that i can't identify because it is utterly new, but a rare palatable plant...

and there was a hunger that i don't understand, that i understand less than the unexpected_opening... even in the midst of unrolling endless, not even crashing waves but constant crest, i hungered for more...

maybe i am intrigued because i want to go exploring...

daxle now it's somebody's turn to say blather_is_blather


poo on you for being anonymous

and someone should argue against the point

and then we should all misunderstand each other

and then just when this blathe dies down someone who's been on blather for 5 hours and doesn't understand that it was created 8 years ago should add their piece

Lemon_Soda Peer pressure will get you in the end. You'll either break down and ask or they'll offer it one to many times and you'll except. The hardest part is they think their showing you a good time, giving you an experience that is fantastic and shouldn't be missed. This is what makes saying No so hard. When this happens, you have to be very careful, because most of the time, all of this stuff feels really good, and its very hard to argue with you body when it likes something. A person without a strong sense of identity can easily substitute one of these substances as a distraction from their own incomplete personna.

You decide if you like it on your own. Gets some and take it with a sober friend to watch out for you. Ask them later how you acted and see whether thats the type of person you want to be. Doing it with just a sober freind is important, too. A happy crowd of people doing the same thing can fool you into enjoying something you don't. After you've decided which ones you like, dislike, do research. Find the negative effects of each and really consider if you want to pay those prices, physically, materially, and spiritually.

Finally, remember that the majority of these things are controlled substances and just one mistake can land you in jail, whether your guilty or not. Police don't care if your a nice person.

zeke over the black sky the dawn ripples in another ocean and the waves caress that air, breathing and lower the turtles fly, certain of the way to high plateau of sand and dune where futures rest in the shards of past amongst the flotsam of the present and turtles know the way to leave love's castings in careful hollows buried with an eye to the breakers arms and they escape under moon bright darkness back to their wheeling flight beneath the place where surfaces press and merge and stops

meta meta 051213
yoink beautiful, untouchable creature
swollen in my brain
stealing up my heart
pounding in my soul
ripping at my eyes

sitting next to me

let me kiss you but i can't
but i can't let me kiss you
let me kiss you but i can't
but i can't let me kiss you

hood up in your magical presence

wish i was a medieval man, looking for a medieval bride, in such a medieval way.

blueberries for you the bells rang twelve times in st.michael and i laid the pitchfork down right, walked to towne to see if you were in the deli. if i were to fill my belly, i wanted to fill my sight with you.

i asked how you were and as if you were practicing your english you said,
"good, how are you?"

i looked at your hair tied back, brown with blonde all through it like a thousand kisses from the sun. i wondered what it would look like down and you on top of me, head thrown back, cutting the darkness with the sounds virgins make.

kingsuperspecial facetious

though truthfully not getting any.
doesn't bother me for some reason.
sex is like alcohol or any other drug.
feels good, but only because it
kills you ever so slightly.

somebody I...
I can't believe I failed...
I forgot.

oh dear.
soma who_put_these_bodies_between_us

rage you're going to miss me 060807
what's it to you?
who go