Tag Archives: pretentious arty crap

this has the word “sex” in it

no real title yet, still a work in progress

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ain’t it feel right

she touches needle to vinyl, finds the groove, releases. closes her eyes. again.

the lights are out. late afternoon shadows shuffle into the room, making it cool and green. her feet trace circles into the matted carpet. she feels for the sonic sweet spot, then settles in and stills herself. the sound comes, full, embodied. it’s the same sound she’s heard for the past hour, three minutes forty-nine seconds at a time, before she rips the arm from the disc and searches for the beginning. as if finding it could somehow help her wriggle out of her skin, become frequency and amplitude. life feels all amplitude anyway these days.

again.


old old poem

wrote this probably 12 years ago. the original line breaks were pretentious. i hope these are slightly less pretentious…

—–

a good day sometimes means forgetting you for five minutes instead of four, four instead of two, two instead of one. and so on.

there are times when the heartache is not so precise, when my day is vague,
when the long floating breadth and depth of your scent of your laugh
invites me only for a moment and the door is left and not slammed in my face.

here and there i am not entirely mal-
content.

my lungs ripen on the river and rocks instead of on you.
but i miss the ache.


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