//Secret Uses For Homemade Blankets//
Martha Stewart Love Me Like a Pillow
i am black feathers
without any particular purpose
dreaming like my ancestors
on frozen ponds with polite trees
holding hands with everything misunderstood
rejoicing the absence of midnight blowouts
and artificial flavoring
dancing for nothing as specific as radar or tuning forks
only wasting time as it wastes me
only falling further behind until i have the lead
coming home smelling of pine and free will
tracking in the dirt and the history
of the things we leave unconnected
i am scattered sunlight with softened edges
resurrecting campfire stories
and handing them out on halloween
Lost Oxygen
tragedy strikes
i spill by your side
blood filled cheeks
chocolate flavored longing
and you giggle
a pile of me
unstable reflections
grinning over the PA
around sunsets
between lips
i've hunted for your taste
in the stars
in the way we move
a rose colored filter
mapping out the wonders
of a rainy day
something explodes
poking holes in the emptiness
watching dreams spill
by our side
and you giggle
My Favorite Hoody
yesterday at 2:55
i became transparent
i felt like calling you collect from the street
to sing you a song in someone else's voice
i found comfort in this thought
and decided to name it "Justice"
after my cousin who sells drugs
but it ran off, dissappearing down an alley
chasing a woman
and a smile
i looked frantically
for clever billboard wisdom
but it never came
i guess thats the price you pay for
not reflecting light
but oh! you should have seen my friends!
acting concerned and scratching their heads
while watching their soap operas in a concealed way
i wanted to burn their temples to the ground
in a cartoon-influenced act of violence
no one seeing my toothy grin
and that would be the best part by far
so my day continued this way
with all my words in captions
drowning in buckets of rain
so i dug myself a hole in the sky
at its request
and buried myself up to my neck
witnessed the soldiers of monotony
carry themselves around like whispers
waiting in line for over-priced therapy
Special Toys at the Bottom of the Box
the base line beats in time with our hearts
our hearts beat in time with dying lights
words are sent
through fingertips
and we trace novels along bodies
i feel you shiver on my skin
you hear me laugh inside your mouth
tucking on ectasy in a reckless way
feeling for movement
moving with the darkness
i breath hard against your skin
until you feel the warmth sink in
and surround your blood
closer, we melt into morning sounds
tighter, we spin on illusions
the chorus agrees with the heat
the heat agrees with empty skin
i label you with infant kisses
you tackle me with the tip of your nose
i tickle you from above
with my dancing hair
you rush to meet me
with your well polished tongue
the guitars rip out our secrets
our secrets tear our hearts
you hold me like a secret
and i'm far away
What I See
when i think about love
(a lions den)
i see beautiful churches
(i want to destroy them)
and nursery rhymes
(little red ridding hood never tasted so good)
an old towering birch
(dead things in autumn)
and i'm ready to climb
(broken bones at the bottom)
Olive Oyle was in my Bed
electric winds hum like dead presidents
i sing along with my lonliness machine
timed perfectly to the edge of
a white-colar dream
i hold your hand in the darkness
while you sit on the other side of the room
what was it i just swallowed? its doing tai-bo
in the softest parts of my insides.
i think it was that little town in new hampshire
where we talk about settling down
i'm letting my eyes crawl along the floor
and peer between state lines and stained blinds
feeling like a spaceship with
tennis shoes for landing gear
and theres a symphony of velcro sounds
weaving through dust particles like
japanese kamikaze fighter pilots
hark! the herald angels sings!
hark! the harold angel sings!
the neuron firing squad spills my guts
to fill the synaptic cleft with my blood
i hear you crying on the carpet
but i dont know who you are
i love the sound and the sound is murder
i'm greedy like manifest destiny
i'm evil like concrete compounds
i'm holy, holy like open wounds
ready to learn plastic languages and tinfoil passages
and hurl them back at playing card towers
dancing on their remains with my red pitchfork bobbing
mogwai tickles our membranes like lost gradeschool companions
and i reach to turn up the sound but i forget why
the most i can do is hold my chin on the edge of the air
and watch the seconds tick as the songs explains the trick
and thats when i understand.
holding your hand
while you sit on the other side of the world
"take me someplace nice,"
the song sings like handicapped angels with foodstamps and red swollen eyes
"someplace nothing like home,"
i whisper back slowly.
The Good Life on the Train Tracks
on the left side of heaven
there's a perfect view of montana
they flock to the openess
because thats all they have
and say things like
"honey, have you seen my beg?"
have you ever placed yourself in the sky
for an extended period of time?
one has a tendency to forget
.............returning phone calls
English for Loners
today,
i made a noise out of the blue
it sounded like forever split in two,
out it came, hard and long
dressed like a 5year old wearing the wrong side shoes
clutching his lunchbox like a nightlight
with stickers of stars displayed on the outside
it rumbled all along Brevard street and seaside
till it found a safe and quiet place to settle,
a comfortable place to hide
in someone's dying breath
thirty degrees to the left
and a millions miles to the memory
i couldnt believe that this sound had come from
a boy such as me,
who could only fall in love
with the lonliness that we've all become
and who sells away his honesty
for a thin pair of shoes and book of bad poetry
but i guess it all makes sense
now that i'm under the covers of this world
with my plastic flashlight and two D batteries
cause when i looked up to see
if anyone had noticed me
no eyes were looking up
no heads tilted to recieve
at least, as far as i could tell
it was just me and the sunlight
and the world went on talking about itself
Tinfoil Tractorbeams
i never talk....
lips colorless and bound
line them up to not listen
spend my life
rehearsing the sound
Citizen Love
i remember one time we held each other
when the static held the air
and the clouds drowned the moon
you started laughing
in short bursts of friendly fire
and lit the evening sky
above lanky telephone poles
and tired telephone wires
so i asked you what it was
and you said you had the urge
to call me something like sugarbaby, or babylove
so we laughed and slung around petnames
like 5 year olds throw mudpies, dodging some,
catching others in the eye
making a mess with words and fading hours
before we finally decided such foolish names
could never be ours
and instead we fashioned kind words of hate
i called you bastard and you called me fuckface
Gummi Worm Manefesto
they're sliding more hours
into these 24 hour days
they're doing it like villians
doing it in the most subtle way
its making me crave grocery stores
and strangers at midnight
making my walk lean
a little to the left
and my skin less likely
to show under flurescent light
so i go shopping for condoms and candy,
twirley straws and brandy
and rub shoulders with the turqious
that curls up in the night
inventing stories for the strangers
tangled in passing
"she's a folk singer with nothing to sing about"
"he's been married 30 years yet finds his wife entrancing"
its all so lovely here on ailse 10
between toilet paper and plastic plates
stepping on dirty tile and discount empyrean
love shouts out from beneath the cracks
but i always ignore silly things with
talk show host noises and arrogant wings
and can you blame me?
for buying all these cheap store name brands?
cause it all seems the same
when everything tastes like pain
and nothing seems to fit
when held in my hands
My Life So Far
today is the day i've been alive the longest
the sun's on my back, and its magnificence i do borrow
yet there is something in me to cause distress,
oh, what if i must say the same thing about tomorrow!
Roses and Telescopes
three hundred seventy-eight steps
from my front porch to your lips
wasting my breath on your
dressed up train wreck
blowing glass into colored shapes
wandering in and out of sleeping states
waiting for you to make a move
five hundred fourty-nine
crumbs of bread
from the start until the end
a whispering heart i coud never hear
with my fingers planted in my ears
losing myself looking for you
a million miles from
your world to mine
i never really could make you shine
you should have left me there
at the entrance
cause i am the boy best kept
at a distance.
Love is Tooth Decay
She sighs
the streetlights blink
hoarding all the candy
behind her soft lips
never stopped to think
candy makes me sick
Did They Kill You, Ursa Major?
there must be a reason
why i hold true
to these secret movements
that fake the shape of you
it makes such perfect sense
when tragedy speaks in a broken dialect
and elegance hands out business phamplets
out there on the T
between the green line and the dead sea
there must be a reason
i'm living in this wrong
humming half awake
to the lyrics of someone else's song
seems the world only exists
in fading makeup
and late night resturants
seems my voice only comes
in the clever camoflauge
of these glowing computer fonts
i have your poster on my wall
i yanked you from the sky
you are my rock and roll
you are my last goodbye
baby, i want to claim your
shiny weather patterns
take them in through
my ears, mouth and eyes
i wanna hear your landscapes shatter
and when it all starts to go down south
baby, i want the shit to matter
i want all this shit to matter
Chef Boyardee Owes me Money
i can't help but challenge your so called modern love
those four silly letters
i'd like to drown in a sleazy hotel tub
don't you think its curious
how it always on call?
the shape of their hearts
and the eagerness of it all?
if i had my way, i'd kindly demolish the days
leave it all unconnected
define it along the way
wouldnt use anything as tangible
as four letters or more
let it die surrounded by porcelin
and a "do not disturb" sign
hanging on the door
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