Wednesday, January 28, 2009

these are not poems...

each year i keep a notebook by my bed entitled "dream-catcher" for me to write things down in before bed. it's not really a journal. and they're not really poems. just thoughts.


1. "u district"

brooklyn to 7th is enough time
to compose a piece
about the girl you just passed
with the seattle-scarf and
half-chapped lips.


3. "hand to mouth"

since when
is it ok
to never expect
anything

from yourself.


8. "seattle storefront on sunday morning"

the blank grey window
of the doorwayis interrupted
halfway down
by a tatted grey
blanket holding the
warming stink close
to the body of the
homeless man
dreaming there.


10. "walking blisters"

don't cry -
it's just
skin.


11. "she"

looks like helena bonham carter
in a you-dub sweatshirt.


16. "disillusionment in the big city"

for a city so big,
there is no room to walk
to my bed
or to yours.


25. "i let myself go"

for,
what's the point?


27. "simplicity"

i should just
kiss you...

and get it
over with.


30. "limerick"

she never went to school
there.

i did.

i feel you should,
therefore,

love me.


31. "space conveniency"

scoot your chair
closer to mine.


32. "trivial"

there are always
too many people
around me.

and too many
around you,
too.


34. "control"

sometimes,
i have none.


35. "daddy"

i wish
you could stay
longer.


36. "matters of consequence"

he looks at me
and sometimes
our eyes
actually
meet.

why does he
not
look away?

but why does
he never
speak?


37. "grace"

one day
the pirouette
will make sense...


39. "seattle: poetry on buses"

i sat near the front.
at one point,
i was the only person
on board.

the bus driver
gave me his
phone number
today.


40. "why?"

because
somehow
you are
gorgeous
to me.


43. "moon"

"goodnight, bear."


44. "what worry does:"

i haven't the strength
to write today.


45. "sickness"

reality
is a
disease.


46. "please, let me explain"

the swivelest swirls
of fingerprints
that have touched me.
are territorial markers -
take heed:
keep away.


that's all i feel inclined to share at the moment.

1 comment:

  1. I LOVE unpoems. This was a particularly good batch. I especially enjoyed: 8, 16, 31, 36 and 46. You're a phenomemal writer!

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