get some sleep
fall thoroughly
catch a ride
on a dream
watch the tide
...floating free
down
float up
look up above
and you'll glide
and you'll gleam
and thoughts will only be
clouds that you can see
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Dear America, let us continue this blog
COLORADO
faded yellow, we overtake
the smatterings of grey
the skylines say things
so sublime we're shivering
even in this 90 degree heat
the mountains to the west
are getting taller & we
are becoming shorter, the
closer we approach their shadows
Blink and you'll miss us
I know I'll miss you
I hope you'll miss me
I wish I were sky
TEXAS PAN HANDLE/NEW MEXICO/DENVER, CO
Texan sunset
cheap motel
frightened rain
dead volcanoes
misty mountains
1.30, Denver, drive
forever, around
arms length
entwined
I would fall for you,
I would fall all the way down this mountain
to sleep next to you at the bottom
WYOMING/HELL
Bombs on diesel trucks,
tanks of radioactive dust
windbreakers, wind turbines
blue black spike scrub
barely a soul to speak or shout
through hills & flats
this is Wyoming,
East to West
TEXAS FROM ABOVE/QUILTERS SEE ALL THIS
Not enough was said between us
although we spoke for nine days straight
and saw the best and worst of each other
and indeed the United States of America
we made promises to never again use full-stops,
the clouds from above are trying to cry
my entire life will remember this time
faded yellow, we overtake
the smatterings of grey
the skylines say things
so sublime we're shivering
even in this 90 degree heat
the mountains to the west
are getting taller & we
are becoming shorter, the
closer we approach their shadows
Blink and you'll miss us
I know I'll miss you
I hope you'll miss me
I wish I were sky
TEXAS PAN HANDLE/NEW MEXICO/DENVER, CO
Texan sunset
cheap motel
frightened rain
dead volcanoes
misty mountains
1.30, Denver, drive
forever, around
arms length
entwined
I would fall for you,
I would fall all the way down this mountain
to sleep next to you at the bottom
WYOMING/HELL
Bombs on diesel trucks,
tanks of radioactive dust
windbreakers, wind turbines
blue black spike scrub
barely a soul to speak or shout
through hills & flats
this is Wyoming,
East to West
TEXAS FROM ABOVE/QUILTERS SEE ALL THIS
Not enough was said between us
although we spoke for nine days straight
and saw the best and worst of each other
and indeed the United States of America
we made promises to never again use full-stops,
the clouds from above are trying to cry
my entire life will remember this time
Monday, April 12, 2010
We all wrote a poem of 8 lines, cut it up so that each line was separated and then each picked 8 lines - at random - from a great big piles of lines. Here's what I found:
Can't see the woods, for this pile of leavesand there are more cameras than people here;a darkness pulled over your laughter.He didn't remember my name next time.What happens next?He said it couldn't be his.I am going to fuck up your face with love.What?
Lets go for a swim!!!!!
Tiny words on old stained paper. We read until our eyes hurt under the light of a nearby street lamp. We read and occasionally we giggle - singularly we laugh, singularly we read but together we are laughers and readers.
I read once that we are full of water. I am swimming all of the time. My bones, muscles, feeling fragments, and organs are all splashing around inside me. I am a giant water adventure park, made exclusively for the organs and bits and pieces that call my body home.
5 Ways to Kill Myself
I woke up today with a need to drown my sorrows.
I don't know why.
I think when you lose yourself it's harder to get back on track.
I've spent the entire day drunk/drinking.
I try very hard to wrap you in the steel trap of my thighs.
But we're all just dead/dying and maybe that's what you've taught me.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Who is he?
We were standing by the open window and conversing.
"Can you swear that you don't know him, Mark?"
I cried, half angered, half in a mind to laugh at his evasions.
"Not yet", he said "but I've got a grand memory for forgetting, Susan."
With that, his head rolled on his shoulder and he was gone. Never to provide a full answer as to my father's true identity.
Night fell as I walked home via the beach. If only I could spend a day with him in the house he had bought at the edge of the cliff - a house buried among rose blossoms and mulberry trees - the most beautiful thing!
Easter Monday
We climbed up Tomaree Headland today. The four of us. Mark, Carlin, Alex and I. Once we had looked out into the ocean someone set a writing task. We had to reflect upon the ocean without using the colour blue or the word ocean. Then, we shared around our results for each other to read. I saw a group of girls comes up to the Summit while we were sitting there writing - one of the girls said "oh no!" and was looking at the metal floor. I couldn't see from my angle what she was upset about but, as she picked the item of her dismay up, I realised her shoe had broken. I began, almost intuitively, to rummage through my backpack. I don't know what I thought I'd find but I remembered quickly that there was supa glue in the side pocket. Sometimes, just sometimes, you can be the hero of the day.
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