andrew early
New books are expensive, not that they're not worth it, but the financial loss is significant, sometimes so that I cannot eat what I want but must settle with the writing I read.
Two cats are better than one; you have something to relate. Water is usually emptiness, smoke fills a lung better than water, but drudgery lasts longer than winter. A brilliantly bleak nightmare in snow.
Forest cats have a life of their own. Feral people understand why we live the way we do. The woods are better than the beams. Tracing night leaves a quickness of morning to lead in the trees.
Removing conjugation, delineating adverbs, delivering adjectives, it's a wonder some can sleep at night. In their azucar daydreams, their salty night sweats, and the one and only grave branch.
Read more [...]
Overstating the field filed under country without once-more temptings scratching out-of-line and inside the lecherous grime of mirrored windows white light glare so some passing passionate insects stare to wonder if the first crime was not the end of another beginning the night-corner lit with singular flare and the reflection in a pool of something caking on the blacktop.
Again through the evening frigid burls of treesap slowing the lapsing history sound surpassed by another succession hungry for chlorine or maybe salt but diluted so the darkness doesn't hide anymore of those anothers: brain light (matter) wonder whether the rain came while we slept through Jazz Age vagaries sipping and bloating and wheezing and chewing.
Read more [...]
Oh the rush
pogo thru
capillaries
tip-toe
emission
from hair-
line dry
cough
flavor-
less than
tongue
benign but
gravelled
honey cooks
away that
is what he said
because he
sweetens
gumlines
uvulas and
lungs full
certified
by whom
favorite
the white pick-
et salvage
say you
stationed
feline nautilus
in center in
corner
sallow in winch
of hammock
respiring
window to floor-
board below
drape before
peaks and
trenchant
crates who
graple hushed
afterword
steamed cup
logos climes
differential
vibrant en-
mire pallid
lung cloister-
ed and new
harbinger lotus
Read more [...]
It came abruptly, reason couldn't be accomplished because everything happened faster than winter. The slowness of summer forgot to assist; years turned into hours, the leaves never changed or fell.
I sit now feeling their brains for food, filled with awe and wonder, and if I'll ever get a chance to meet them. The end is probably the end, though, so hope seems lost. The wires and skylines linger like sandstone, ebbing slightly but sinking like quicksand, leaving out the unnecessary consumptions.
Life is like that. Somewhere in Europe things seem better because life is taken for what it's worth. Tragedy is possible so open-mindedness works better than orange juice from Florida or Brazil or a freezer pop from Michigan.
Read more [...]
Scattered leaves decorate the dismal fall ground and the monks picking apples from the trees across the way look satisfied. We watch them from the empty after-school parking lot, which collects gravel dust and bottle caps during the back-to-school season. We stand in Mt. Rushmore perspective, glaring across the terra with pained eyes sick from the disinfected hallways and bathrooms of the academic building. Neglect consumes me. I die for a minute, brought back to life by the aspect of myself that is my guiding personality, a type of multiple, breathing humidly into my ear every chance it gets.
Read more [...]
The thing about childhood and adolescence is that one is an entrance into a dark cave while another is the realization that you've conquered the cave after boring its creation, each metaphor respectively. As a child, you don't wake up in the morning with the intention of going to school, of embarking on a cruel and cold life's journey heavy on the trail of your aspirations, with the courage and ambition to conquer your fears. You wake up to have breakfast or put on clothing. As an adolescent, you wake for breakfast or to get dressed so you can entertain your substantial notions of self-importance and young idealism to which you're naive, more or less.
Read more [...]
* I see a constant renewal in my life that rivals that of lush lands in tropical climates. I regularly amaze myself with the duration of which my existence seems to endure. There's a continual repletion of my faculties, and the human resilience innate in all of us astonishes me yet again.
When I was 14 years old, I didn't think I would see 25. At 15, I didn't think I'd see 21. At 16, it became 18 that I was certain would never come. Nor did I care. The earlier the better. I ended up coming to 18 instead of it coming to me, and it scared the hell out of me.
Every day now I see things for the first and millionth time, as I reflect on my observations about myself. Every new day that passes I feel a sense of accomplishment if I've made it through them. I'm 22 years old, and thinking I'll live for awhile longer now.
Read more [...]
[b]Monday[/b]
These two guys who work in the back of the office make noise up front as I attempt to look busy, striking the keys of my uniform computing machine with blitzkrieg precision and obvious career ambition. My posture suggests I may be lazy but the speed at which I execute the minor details of my job and the attitude which I feign defend me. The cold February draft blowing through the cracks in the window over the river result in shivers and the occasional chatter of teeth, the product of increasingly low company revenues.
I sit here at my desk, cold and dissatisfied with florescent supervision lost in fantastic wanderlust, waiting for the city to thaw. The modem tones heard through the lulls in music alternate between incessant phone rings and fax machines.
Read more [...]
recent comments