Monday, March 17, 2008

Staring at Bricks at 12:12AM

I made you up and you are not here
You are just my mind writing
my dear.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Compartments

[hiccups] (endless, helpless) [Is there anything else you need from me?]
[crowds] (caving in) [Is it time to go home yet?  I don't believe I know where I am.]
[turtlenecks] (slowly choking) [Is there anything else in this closet that fits?
[hearing other people's dreams] (minutes) [Are you comfortable with me just smiling and nodding?]
[strangers zipping jacket to my neck] (blood spurting) [Do I know you?  You say you know me.]

[cigarettes] (something to do with my hands) [What does one have to do with the other?]
[sunglasses] (as not to be seen) [Is it dark or am I just frightened?]

the curb outside your apt. [I am the gutter leaves that you swept and gathering in that plastic bag you always carry.]
the one outside Studio on the Square. [I am the un-ashed cigarette hanging from your fingers,  lit only by the dim bulbs that line wrinkled movie posters along a brick wall.] 

[the body is a jar] (nicotine, caffeine, paroxetine) [How does any of this help?  How does any of this help?  How does any of this help?  How does any of this help?]

[chicago is a capsule] (your heart remains broken.) [These buildings are staring at me.  They follow me home.]

[film/camera] (man walking backwards having a day.) [I reversed the footage.]
  (a green ball floating from outer space finding its way into the desert.) [No one wants to ever help.]
  (dragging bodies to shallow graves) [The sun bled all over the lenses.]

[Judas knocking at the front door] (please, come in, but no kisses) [    ]

Friday, March 7, 2008

Los Angeles, California

This poem is forthcoming in the Spring 2008 Columbia Poetry Review:

Los Angeles, California

Feel small. Smaller than ever before.
Del Taco is best. In-N-Out Burger better.
Send her copy of Splendor in the grass for Valentine's.
Truck towed on day of Oscars.
Can't afford a tattoo.
Colder than expected. Buy electrician's jacket for $8 at thrift store.
Send her poems.
Make copies. Get coffee. Wrong bagel. Yelled at by producers.
Stay up watching Lord of the Flies, Alien, & The Last Temptation of Christ back-to-back-to-back.
See Tom Cruise from a distance. Physically bump into Jack Black - nice guy.
Watch Lucero play the Troubadour. Makes me miss Memphis.
Make short film about a green ball.
Get lost in Mojave Desert.
Order 3 cherry cokes at Laugh Factory (3 drink minimum).
Use up last calling card.
I have a screenplay.
Everyone has a screenplay.

Let's Begin with Manners

When the elevator opens, allow adequate time for those exiting to exit (barging in suggests that you are oblivious to those around you, or simply you are an asshole).

When you hear sirens and see an ambulance or fire engine in your reviewmirror (not pulling over suggests that you are not concerned about the lives of others).

When someone is choking, politely give them the heimlich (don't watch as they die).

When someone has the hiccups, offer them some of your peanut butter (not offering your peanut butter may negatively affect the outcome of that person's day).

When you're wearing your bluetooth headset, no one really likes you (mainly because you have a telephone strapped to your head and you constantly hold up your index finger while you look off into the distance and complete your hands-free phone conversation, and more than likely you're a complete asshole).

When you don't say please or thank you (the waiter is not a dog, in fact you treat your dog better than the wait staff).

When someone asks you for directions, they are trying to tell you they are lost (they do not care about the history of the city or even your knowledge of the city, they want left right left right not north south east west).

When you are a racist, sexist, zealot, etc. do not assume other people share your viewpoint (people will smile, nod, and secretly wish for a sledgehammer to drop and crush your skull).