of a river

my nails are chipped, because
i went cave mining by
the river,
was panning for gold
my hands pruned;
the cave made sound

then i knew that it
knew; knew
the way things went

caves repeat back old
nights ago, sometime ago;
it threw back cries

chanted my snapshots
of a thing that had
passed;

an audio album of:
a baby,

i threw a baby, in its river

rivers get cold
when naked babies fall into stream,
you hear screams

and the baby before it drowns,
shivers

i cannot birth in river waves
my rebirth is
small bodied death

stop hissing river water;
it, things get baptized at death
me, i was baptized at birth

forgive me river gods
i'm trying to find gold in holy water

keep the scandal down
back to cave mining
back to river panning

paris sky

THE PARIS SKY

The Paris sky
is blue and bright
I want to fly
with all my might

Her legs are long
her heart is high
The chains are strong
but so am I

leonard cohen

{photo: ffffound}

the many people

I Wonder How Many People in This City
{from "The Spice-Box of Earth"}

I wonder how many people in this city
live in furnished rooms.
Late at night when I look out at the buildings
I swear I see a face in every window
looking back at me
and when I turn away
I wonder how many go back to their desks
and write this down.


- leonard cohen

{photo: DENISE}

HOWL

howl at the moon

{photo 2 : ffffound
photo 1 and 3: DENISE}

the 2am

Big big big ben ben big ben big big ben big

I think your ticker is broken

broken like

speech

Of the things we say

Not much can be said

i doubt

we

make sense

Of the things i make:

Sound

Not only does it hurt your head

It breaks it

Big big big big

i look

because its pleasing

my sound,

your pain.

but

Of the things I look at

Not much time is spent on your owl eyes;

Mr.

my owl-eyed Ben

Read to me

Before it hits the 2am

The 2am,

soon it comes

of running

running through the woods
nothing can erase;
deleting
a hidden war
a ghost knocking on the bed,
everything and
anything can be less nothing

don't go in
but do;

come lets see a ghost
it died

just run,
past monday afternoons,
drenched.

i want to soak in a pond of leeches;
suck on me.
suck on this.

of today in March

{just been reading and beatles listening}


{Shakespeare, Fidel, ... et? where's pin number3?}


{picture taking while gone, really ? again?! at least i only called two people this time}



that is the end of march thus far

of telling

my teller is lovely
as moon skies and telescopes

this reminds of
childish affairs

but our characters
are past age limit
of tales bout fairies
and kisses in meadows

i'd ask him
over
invite him for tea

he must be tired
too many moon changes
too many stars
too many spins, dust, myths of gods
his eyes hurt
i know they tear
even turned kaleidoscope on him

my tea is
hot,
it screams

his hands are
red,
and bitten at

his fingers twirl
spoons
his grins ruckus me
and
he looks at me
through blue eyes

if he sees broken
and
i am broken
when does it
become

of today

i said today
today
none of your shit

those
highly international sophisticated
ways of movement
crash into spit and vodka

you dancing fag
i smoke you
twice a day

wait for it

i'm going to chew and spit you

today
today
i said

photographs will be taken
of you
not me
i smell too foul
a picture within a camera would give me
away

i continue to produce spit
i am as refined as you
only i barf
you swallow

no beauty like yours is even half as sweetened as my verse
today
today

i smoke and barf

on being blue

i want to be the blue and the small

{ffffound}

life and how it sucks

8:50ish

again my life
at least career is in the gutter

down
down down

and it smells

really

3.14.09

Ballad of a young lovers

she was married at five
by the sandbox
in grade school where they taught
the national anthem in English
and Espanol
her husband did not love her;
she loved him

to know love at age five
broke her
hard ;
it left her with broken
Ingles

No rings
No rice
Just sandbox sand

Had she waited twenty more years
To marry
This loveless man
She would be pregnant; but

No babies
No bars
Just sandbox sand because she was five

And her mother cleaned that boy’s
parent's house, on Mondays
On Newport Beach Cliff,
her mother knew
that was no boy for her
his muddy hands
always left muddy stains
on marble counter tops
and
his room was never clean

but
she couldn’t help loving
dirty boys
she just liked
how
his saliva kisses
left her cheeks so wet

so young they were
she’d whisper her love in espanol
to his waxy ears
he’d curse her with “eww”s about
her Spanish witch spells
so young they were
none the less ,
that is young lovers at their best

3.14.09

Of today
an image

[ffffound]

on remembering

I do not need to remember.
Remembering stops my sleep.
I have tricked myself out of sleep
the way the lights of planes have tricked us
into believing they are moving stars.
And across the street the musician plays the guitar
and harmonica for me, or so I say.

shots are better than cocaine

Ciao! Manhattan

Edie Sedgwick

GUCCI: Fall

damn straight, you know i'd wear this in a heartbeat




the "it" shoe for me

{photos: TheFS}

collection

i'm tired and somewhat moody; but this made me smile

about me

When you spend most of your life in silence and are surrounded by more awkward silence, one gets to know about stares

the camera and i

when i'm not so there.
take away my phone. PLEASE. especially at 4:08am.

"are you my lover... i love you man... i can't sleep" -words in a voicemail

{toothpick bandit}

the day she was not dead

i lend a dead girl twenty-five cents

she wasn't dead then
she waited till the weekend

this happened by the soda machine

not her death
i'm referring to the lending

she was meant for suicide;
for overdose
but that's not the way that a flu kills

years before this;
two

i had traded poke cards
hers fake, two real from my part

this happened by the red brick walls of elementary

i wasn't listening at the memorial
i don't know if it was coffin or not

this happened on Talbert and Brookhurst

i remember the dirty black hoodie,
that the dead girl, not dead yet,
wore on lending day

she wanted a soda
from the soda machine
the day she was not dead

what a jerk i can be to the dead