Get away from me
Get away from me,
This isn't gonna be easy
But I don't need you
Believe me
You got a piece of me
But it's just a little piece of me
And I don't need anyone
And these days I feel like I'm fading away
Like sometimes when I hear myself on the radio
Have you seen me lately? Have you seen me lately? Have you seen me lately?
I was out on the radio starting to changeS
omewhere out in America, it's RAINING
Could you tell me one thing you remember about me
I remember me
And all the little things that make up a memory
Like she said she loved to watch me sleep
Like she said: "It's the breathing, it's the breathing in and out and in and..."
I thought that someone would notice
Thought somebody would say something
If I was missing
Can't you see me?
Come on color me in
Come on color me in
Give me your blue rain
Give me your black sky
Give me your green eyes
Just give me your white skin
Give me your white skin
Give me your white skin

ad

no original thoughts of my own.

the moon is in my be
right now
shining down
it's zen on me
i am a faithful
mantis
ask me the way
i'll tell

i am sensitive
to myself
and others

tingling
nerves
and
obscenities
all my head
a storm

dry ice swept
into a sea of soul
and insecurity

breathe sweet
sweat tears

want to last forever
if only for a second

just the thought
of our bed
makes me crumble like the plaster
where you punched the wall beside my head
and I tryto draw the line
but it ends up running down the middle of me
most of the time
boys get locked up in some prison
girls get locked up in some house
and it don't matter if it's a warden
or a loveror a spouse
you just can't talk to 'em
you just can't reason
you just can't leave
and you just can't please 'em
I was locked
into being my mother's daughter
I was just eating bread and water
thinkingnothing ever changes
and I was shocked
to see the mistakes of each generation
will just fade like a radio station
if you drive out of range
If you're not angry
you're just stupid
or you don't care
how else can you reactwhen you know
something's so unfair
the men of the hour
can kill half the world in war
make them slaves to a super power
and let them die poor
just the thought
of our bed
makes me crumble like the plaster
where you punched the wall beside my bed
and I try
to draw the line
but it ends up running down the middle of me
most of the time
baby I love you
that's why I'm leaving
there's no talking to you
and there's no pleasing you
and I care enough
that I'm mad
that half the world don't even know
what they could have had
I was lockedinto being my mother's daughter
I was just eating bread and water
thinking
nothing ever changes
and I was shockedto see the mistakes of each generation
will just fade like a radio stationif you drive out of range

ani mornings.

my aslanic love prophet
shelter me with your sanity
lend me your arms
to bid me firm
and safety
let me last awhile longer
the night is cold
and i am not getting any stronger
may you shield me
from the sky
that falls heavy
on my expectation

Is everybody happy now?
Is everybody clear?
We could drive out to the dunes tonight,
'cause summer's almost here
.And I've been up all night,
I might sleep all day.
Get your dreams just right
Let them slip away,
I might sleep all day.
When the roads are clear
,We'll head on out of here,
If you're coming back,
I'll see you in the morning
I'm just staring at
the ceiling staring back at me,
Just waiting for the daylight to come crawling in on me...
And I've been up all night,
I might sleep all day.
Get your dreams just right
And let them slip away,
I might sleep all day
Ohhh...It's too late to get high now.
fix your hair just right
Put your jeans on tight,
Wear a dress, so I can get it off real easy.
'Cause I've been thinking I'd like to see your eyes
open up real wide the minute that you see me
If you don't come through,
I wouldn't wait for you.
I understand that everyone goes disappearing,
into the greatest grey
that covers over everyday,
and hovers in the distance and the distance and the distance...

A.D.

sway me magical
round the dance floor
basketball and smile
laugh our faces
off our heads
into the sea of blue and guitar string
hope for the little tiny things we crave
to all come true
at a peak
built by the energy
the synergy of sin.her.chi
take it all and hold it
offer
me
what i offer
you
fair trade
and
love made
with eyes
and red lips
snow crystals
all around our tongues
the best is yet to come

Make me laugh

Say you know

What you want

You said we were the real thing

So I show

You some more

And I learn

What black magic can do

Stickers licked on lunch boxes

Worshipping David Cassidy

Yeah I mooned him once on Donna's box

She's still in recovery

Sleepovers,

Beene's got some pot

You're only popular with anorexia

So I turn myself inside out

In hope someone will see

Jackie

And Jackie

And Jackie's strength

And Jackie

And Jackie

And Jackie,

yeahI got lost on my wedding day

Typical

the police came

But virgins always get backstage

No matter what they've got to say

If you love enough you'll lie a lot

Guess they did in Camelot

Mama's waiting on my front lawn

I pray

I pray

I said pray for Jackie's strength

T.A.

lyrics day. not so much myself words day.

Well there’s a light in your eye that keeps shining

Like a star that can’t wait for the night

I hate to think I’ve been blinded baby

Why can’t I see you tonight?

And the warmth of your smile starts a-burnin’

And the thrill of your touch gives me fright

And I’m shaking so much, really yearning

Why don’t you show up, make it all right?

Yeah, it’s all right.

And if you promised you’d love so completely

And you said you would always be true

You swore that you would never leave me, baby:

What ever happened to you?

And you thought it was only in movies

As you wish all your dreams would come true

It ain’t the first time believe me, babyI’m standin here feeling blue

Yeah I’m blue

Now I will stand in the rain on the corner

I’ll watch the people go shuffling downtown

Another ten minutes no longer

And then I’m turning around

The clock on the wall’s moving slower

My heart it sinks to the ground

And the storm that I thought would blow over

Clouds the light of the love that I found

Now my body is starting to quiver

And the palms of my hands getting wet

I’ve got no reason to doubt you baby,

It’s all a terrible mess

I’ll run in the rain till I’m breathless

When I’m breathless I’ll run till I drop, hey

The thoughts of a fool’s kind of careless

I’m just a fool waiting on the wrong block, oh yeah

Light of the love that I found...

lz.

my blogger button
timer is broken
fix it up blogger boys
with your blogger knives
and toys
rip apart the wires
and tire
at the mesh and glue
and fire
the dirty pistons
up thru one another
to make it 1007 not the break of
dawn

want to familiarize myself
with details that aren't mine
someone elses point of view
walk along an edge of canyons
far out west somewhere
and not think about jumping
without a notion of flying
just ooh and ahh at the cavity
holding space and time
with rule and disorder
sleep in someone elses dreams
make heart shaped letters to another
that will weep at the way i spell their name
all correct and amused
make a motion to manage all the mayhem
and catalouge it in a binder
labeled life
or something profound
"someone elses notes on things"
not my own
erase that part
and call me quits


let me lay awake in tiny leaking boats
on the river nile
watching the tops of pyramids
slip silently away


no focus.

ladies die
at ages
where most men learn to
cry
in stages
of insomnia & children
with untamed wings learn to fly
in mazes
toward a sun
that burns them down
4/4/05

swinging his hips
grinding toe heel into sand castes
built from shadow and sledgewooden play ground built for two by two
orga(s)n(m)ism
situates it's small self
it's tongue lick lip self
measure the circumfrence of the field
then jot it down on the back of a girl from oregon with electric kool aid paste
taste it burn the books gold lined classics of teachers dirty . . . tamper with the treason, no reason, but leave the space
and come back inside old man. oogle the bugles, oh donna's lungs, and shave another inch off your life tell him, old friend, down in flourly dough, how much it makes you grin
4/11/05

my . mine . drunken. prose.swept into heavy lashand tight rues of huesmine own self be truesand where does the side step to when the side needs a breatherhe always gets me with his come h-ea-ither look . . .his lets go home, to your mattress-esand do somethingdirty-er. the best of all worlds, and least of the middle. 8/3/05

kidnap me
shackle me to an island
keep your fingers on my skin
build a house
with log and liquor
write poetry on my spine with charred coal
and wash it with rain sticky ocean
wake to not knowing
and finally feel like living
8/18/05

i've taught,
have you taught,
your children well?
like we were asked,
axed,
a million years ago.
on cave dwellers walls
in higher-o
glisten
examples,
of women run down, and babies hanging from their
chest
breast
best make a run for it while the bison still burrow.
9/16/05

slow inside
this turning
call my mother's number
and no one answers
the answering machine
asks me what i want
and i just dont know
babies hit by cars
on western and south allen
tiny legs lay all around
my womb can wait
can you
no suffering to wander listless thru
11/01/05

my ferris wheel lover
has swung up high
his chariot
heading straight for the sun
deliver himself unto forgiveness
bless us
every.one.behaves but me
11/01/05

once in awhile you get shown the light . . . .

here and now
then and when
i came down from a halo
or was it a cloud
severed from god's eye itself
all blue and perfection
lingering on the obstacle of how do i love thee
let we count the ways
900 nearly
do
nt
let
go

cafe delicious
unearth the ceramic mugs
of my goddess ancestor
silohuettes in blue gold majesty
caffeine sacrifice

i shall build my shrine
to non other
but you

raise the reflection
to peaceful
enigmatic clouds
swaying in the obstacled breeze
over my shoulders
our arms
raised

i will burn my incense
to non other
but you

chant shake
take in the rattle hum
feel the earth quake
rock fall over water
ripple stillness
heavy tide
foam licking tiny rock

i have songs written
to non other
but you

collapse steady
succulent ovum
emptying goods
trade it out for something more firm
to deliver upon the craggy benches
of this forgotten isle

i can be amazing
to non other
but you

gin
and thank your
tonic
laughter

rising on the crest of my lips
saved by the lifeboat of your soul
peering out at me
from behind your eyes
begging me in
closer

Sleeping alone
Vicious blankets do strangle
Attempting to be the curve of a lover
I’ve craved
For months, days

My old flames
Filling the bellies
Of their new fires
Full full full your boat
Gently down the grin and tear it
From the arms of goldilocks
And her three bears have all but turned her away

Want to gain my warmth
The way he does
Want to have some shelter from a storm
Even in the thunder
I’ve created
And be held
Without words

pink the floyd
these boys
know how and when to touch my
lips

sink my infatuation
with just a grind of your
hips
roll call, present, pleasant, patient
slipping over fingered
tips

these fits, of passion
lash on
long after i am left to my own unraveling
i can close my eyes
and lose my mind
pretend it's your hands traveling

down the length of my arched spine

my body is your bloom

thieves take my words
compile them on dead wood stacked
to the clouds
little lonely memories slipping
spark, and light up the night
rain fall damp my face
lips cracked soakin up the chances
to make it beautiful again
watch it burn, tequila road
drive me back to me
let me linger on the stage of my core
and stare out at myself
quiver at my possibilities
scattered limbs
shaking to and fro
in about my
limbs
shaking to and fro
dont want to be here
but no where else to go
you should have seen me when i was
inspiring
you should have known me when i was
a muse
you should have touched me when i was
warm
you should have been there
before i've gone

on possibilities
and hopefuls
i linger
touch soft the skin
of it all
that transpires
amongst me
letting in the beautiful
and letting go the rest
close my eyes to savor
open my mouth to taste

you've nothing to worry about
where i want to be
is where i am
heading
. . . . laid out before the discoveries, the stars of my soul shining out
into telescopes, the many moons of my imagination illuminated by a sun, just come into orbit . . .
underneath birch tree autumns
and fingers cold, holding
onto time
and one, another
not seeking forever, and ever,
or trees carved with my initials
stubborn over yours
just want a second to bear your being
. . . . my days last 140 hours, what will you do for work on me? what will pay your bills if you call my hips your home? im eliptical and eccentric, lunar and light, take the mission and rover my ridges.

my window breaks the rays
that come in colors everywhere
shadows on the carpet
tricks with my eyes
sink into the cloth of a dead man's chair
and pray for sufficient mercy
to get me by . . .

loss of heart
gain of love
which feels the worst?

oh brave tower o babble, bring me the Gilgamesh's of your countries history. let me wade in the waters of your most profound. . . our aspirations have been split open, on a wood stove, stirring hot soup while writing our forefathers fevers in steno notebooks ground in black ink to be rained away by some april flowers, bringing the hydrating showers, peresphone returning to her mother's hands.
these brief slices of civilization folding in on our daydreams of glorious rendevous with some cosmos much bigger than the now of it all. immediate gratiyoufuckedup. cheek gashes to gashes we all destroy our creators.

digging away, the moments . . . .

Enkidu, i wouldn't feel the need to change you. you could come and go and i would nestle, slow, into the barbaric bow of your soul . . . Enkidu, take me, as your Shamhat, without the fear that you will leave my bed a changed spirit, i accept you all, my vicious . . .

there walks a lady we all know . . . .

never ever saw the stars so bright ~
every man returns to dust ~

wrapped in the sari of my study, my liter.art.ure, dripping from my veins i've opened to either embrace or condemn . . . wishing i didnt have to work tomorrow to explore this tunnel of my insight.

random creatives on old men in the ozarks diggin for ginseng suffering pains of bad hearts, and no money for prescriptions resorting to the faith of what they sow. heard an entire dialouge of one of them, with a welfare woman . . . and him hobbling off back into his woods.

tire.

The ducks have frozen
Like holden
Promised
Their little webs stuck
Eternal
In the ice of central park

Oh calm explorer
May you divide and conquer
The continent of my flesh
With two hands
And tongue

Stake your claim
Your past
My present
Navigate me
Until I am found

feels so good
so free
so right
i know we aint gonna change our minds about it . . . .
here comes my girl.

she's all i need tonight.

oh tom. my petty. my illuminated face, in the grass on a starry saratoga sky.
remembrance of oh tom. my petty. 19th birthday. here, a few feet away. my hands around heather's arms, jack's arms around me, swaying. beauty.
like youth. and yonder. and yours truly, content.

had to move on, a moment to share the tobassco donkeys . . . pickin wonderful. scape of west coast, scape of green hat that covers my face, scape of salt never leaving wonderous places on our month old bodies . . . .

'always marry an ugly girl, cause that's the only kind, she'll never ever leave you, and if she does you wont mind' . . . .

moved from thoughtful to silly. quickly.

what the bleep do i know?
want to explode from the chest, but also want to hold it close and warm.

my electrons go firing into my neutrons and all the ons turn off and my film stops, at one place, that i have memorized and analyzed for years . . .saying im over it, saying im past it, saying im through it, and still fidgeting . . . with comparison. with hurt that has yet to even present. the expectation in the used to. sadness based on nothing i could have changed, and that's the hardest part . . . can't regret that which i do not cause, but still have something spring from it that i might want to erase. . .

i dont know how im going to tell you
i can't play with you no more
moved on to the led zepplin . . . thoughtful of it . .. . conscious of every word and relation it brings. "could it be you found another game to play, what did mama say to me, that's the way, it oughta be, mama said thats the way it oughta stay, oooh" . . . .
the rain has stopped, i've opened my shutters, the house quiet and still . . .
"so i say to you that nothing really matters, and all you do is stand and cry, i dont know what to say about it"
want to motivate to pack up what i want to bring, to take, to live alone with. to bury in my own cave for my winter of hibernation away from the noise, and the buzz of emotion, and thought and feeling . .. . the winter, my arch of sensitivity, will be a beautiful time to separate myself and explore that.

". . . i listen to my words but they fall far below, i let my music takes me where my heart wants to go, i swam upon the devil's lake, but never never never, i'll never make the same mistake . . ."

moments passed.
moved onto
the dead.
5-26-72

how many times will this become full, like all my pages become, full and i highlight and delete. keep my finger zoomed in on the x that takes it all to silence.?. no trace i was ever here at all. . .

on shattered roof shingles we woke up in our dance dresses, your finger petting mine, listening to a river we've memorized lick the bottom of your father's dusty boat. we promised silent and with eyes close, to not forget this. . . . not forget that. girl mouth in my girl mouth waiting for the world to wake up with us. my azucar honey muffin kind of piece of chaos. after i climbed down the ladder into your bedroom, you gave me a cigarette and lit it for me. i drove home with the sunrise shining in my rearview.

if i beg you to stop. could you? the neon light on my heart attacks with care, "no vacancy" . . .

my mother earth soaks up this rain. she grins like a little girl, hands muddy, eyes wide, blue, pupils dilated under the glow of a moon she decorated . . .

dancing is my verb.

i am here, not opposed to finding something more about me of worth to others. the entricate details that shall one day possibly come radiating from within. be who i am. am i who, be? i be who am. i be am who.

in a studio, my voice on the speaker, my fingers on guitar strings snapping a second from my words, and i was just broken, i was just healing, i knew not what i was saying . . . and you came in, all lanky and boy, so young and tortured . . . and my cousin she was so pissed, her young heart jealous . . . and you wouldn't stop listening, or memorizing, or focusing . . . and she was so beautiful and such a female, not angry at the likes of hearts and hope . . . and she was so brave and fortunate . . . and she was so happy to not admit i was with her, so content with chain smoking and reading glamour. at the end, you kissed my cheek and i dedicated it to her.

the night of a thousand stars. and the addiction to hear america. the gentle guitar, the gentle drum, the gentle idea of questioning . . . "michigan seems like a dream to me now. .. . it took me four days to hitchhike" . . . all a dream. "laughing on the bus, play games with the faces" . . . and there i was, hundred miles from home, my heart invaded on a mile of many . . . .

gonna name a child i have to a groovy beat, when the people hear it they'll wanna dance. . . . it will be it's own peaceful riot.

govt mule new years eve. rounding out the confetti with the shove of my hips. my skirt feeling like an ocean around me, the stage a thousand colors and every body has some sorta smile stained on. encore to walk 86 blocks in 2 minutes, of garbage bang, and laugh, my trip so fast i can't my trip so fast . . . sink into the back of another dancefloor, put my hands together and let ice explode in and out of mouth . . . . share my wealth of concentration and then twirl back to the guitars and trumpets . . . . oh this galaxy sure does like my kind.


what a random triumphant collection of things to say. nothing fits but what the music brings as the song changes.

nashville . . . old station inn. random monday. bluegrass collection. men tall and short, fat and thin, old and older gather, sit in their circle and play their banjos made of golden twine . . . words of gold, and women, love and cold winters . . . my soul changed every note, their jagged wrinkled fingers not taking a breath . . . when one would head home another would have arrived and sat down. then i found him. tall, proud, smiling awkward at his own abilities and following the room's lead, and when he sang, i heard an angel. something beyond what was touchable, something so much like my grandfather. for an hour or more, couldn't take my eyes off him, for an hour or more, i cried in the back of the room at my picnic table and corona. wished it years earlier, wanting to run home.

oddly for the first time, as i love both, i've just found an amazing connection between the character of friend of the devil and neal. so similiar . . . running from the law in nevada for stealing cars, had a few wives, his women had babes he disbeliefed as his, i bet he cried each night . . . borrowed from the devil. oh dear, neal.

we can put the tent in the trunk with the matches and our sleeping bags. i'll put oil in the car if you run into the store and get me some sort of cheap beer to pass the night away beside a fire someplace on a backroad near missouri. we'll eat peanut butter sandwiches and smoke our minds figuring out the solars system, placing our synergy somewhere in the stars, making up a constellation for it, on the bookbags of clothes we can lay our heads. and when im not comfortable you can offer me a pair of pants to put in my bag for more cushion and when you're cold i'll slip up behind you and cover you with my breath and arm. the sun will rise on your face and when you wake i'll have already heated the water for the green tea. you kiss my neck, there are birds we dont recognize and you comment on how much you like the salt of me. no more taxes. just searching for some piece of self in the earth . . . on the earth. wandering aimlessly aimed. thanks for comin.


oh the blossoming gin. nothing says optimistic like a 1 a/m rush of the new miserable experience.
. . . . you can trust me not to think, and not to sleep around, if you dont expect too much from me you might not be let down . . .
oh thinking of laying in bed at 13 listening to this tape, as the night was on and i was supposed to be sleeping, educating myself on the rules of cheating and drinking

want to go out dancing now. dress up nicer and be in a group i dont know and close my eyes, feel the heat of the room over my arms and focus on nothing but the bass line . . .

have i rambled enough?

no glue to stick this . . . cept some of this lou reed rambling to me too. we are all such random storytellers. wanting to get it out before it just snaps back into the vault.

strung out on a silver piece of his. a chevy something. my hair sweaty sticking to the windshield, my barefeet toeing the chrome, he strumming a broken guitar. my grandmother's birdbath reflecting the moon, and my ovaries opening up for some sort of creation that night. i cleared my throat, "jacky she is just speeding away, thought she was james dean for a day, then you know she had to crash . . . ."

going to write something together now that i got this excessive off my obsessive.

to lose, laura's trek

is to
and pull back
on some dada
tzarly, he drew blood first
idea.r.lly
breton lied to you,
said words would never
hurt you
or he meant me
cause my sticks are breaking under your stones
that are breaking
we all fall down
giggle, wiggle, wriggle up into another's jumpsuit
throw yer
man - goes
at the stage
all chest hair
and chest stare
moulin rouge smeared all over our cheeks
doctorate in doctoring
the doctorless doctors
that need some assistance getting their finances spent
da
da
wont you
come back
and show me where you sleep
so that i might follow you
back
and watch you
d
e
e
p. dont dangle no key
in front of me.
we can wear high heels
and when andy mr. war whore
is coming of age
break every ounce
of dig.nitty he got
then write it all down
in our
da-u-script black book.

.for the etch etched etching.

Rush on words, and flesh
Touching
Nearing infinity
Under fog and finger
Prints
Developed, with tongues rolling
Where they wish to roam
And when
.
And how does your garden grow?
With rusty rockers
Sweeping over all those dandy.lion.heads
Sucking the bitter roots
Of a purple plush
As sun sets
Colors all over your arms
.
Full of
Heat
Walls drip
Down my hands
To my wrists
Inspiration.
Flowing.
Over a sea of holy
Quiet mattress
.
My flag I fly
Ripe color wonderful
Irie.descent. Abs. Distracted.
Rippled on curve of moan
Come
Half mast
Another orgas,mmm

i want to find you waiting for me, with no words, and know exactly what you're saying,
fumble in the coil of definition until it dedicates itself to me,
in a stairwell dark
waiting for a bulb
to illuminate the rainy window
gathering reflection
of our fresh bodies
without all these hesitatations
i might sound so
perfect.

i can taste what's to come
on the pores
that open and close
with midnights
and fall
moon and fingers

when i sail my ship to tangiers
i can promise
letters. signed with love,
your sugar mama piece of fire
and fortune
.
that sticks in metal clasp
for thirty years to come
.
from diner payphones
16 dollars i'll fidget with
to call
to hear your voice on the machine
'no one can take your call right now'
not no one,
that's not what you meant
you
unless.
there is someone else there
unless
tangiers was just too far for you to love
.

eventually she'll start
hiding the postcards
under the porch
for the weather and dust to suffer
you'll never
know
and i'll
kind of
know

until we are both
132 years old
waltzing on age and wisdom
ink stained & rambling like moths toward the light
of the other
it's so cold in October
sometimes
might as well
find this fortune
worth the stay

dont love me more than this

.

a ple.thor.a of thought.s

i string my souls guitar
and play it for myself
late at night
buying myself beers
in my head
trying to get myself
in bed
complimenting the nature of my gaze
cornering me, feeling up my thigh

.

i wake up to write. and i dont know why. seems uncoditional in it's undefinable nature.

.
i want to be hugged. for a pretty long time this time.
.

turnpike sutra
what a way to go
washer fluid run up
rain lifts and separates
holy toll
this whole piece of wisdom
is just ash
from my vague cigarette
glowing aimless
east of peace. behind a memory to embrace, independently.

my ink i prefer black, thin weave of drunk haze inspired crave, can't stand to obey the lines. should have gathered white paper, without lines to not attract my fall shorts.

if i wear shorts, in the fall.... men stare imagining my legs hairless wrapped engaged around their hips some sort of moan escaping some sort of lips, never mine. assholes. fall shorts.

jukebox mantra. tom petty. a voice i know. honey take me through the night. break down. driving fast at midnight later february , dirt roads, caked in ice and something still sticky on my thigh. no room at the inn. i was allowed a moment, then to the cold, with all the other bitches. howling. listening in and out of naive tears, and this voice.. . realizing i had to turn my heart off. live for the bodily pleasures. simplicity in touch me. and then, turn cold. dont show it hurts.

beer glasses reused without being cleaned. taste guiness over my tall gin. my thin shard aching with careless layer. messy, i am, apologetic.

but, what if this is my last testament?

i once read that the only way to write is write as though there was a loaded gun at your head . . .

ive been lazy, i have forgotten that. i have been lazy in a lot of ways.

later . . . .

more, together.
mind full of where i've been, where i should be, where. how i should beware.
am i.
s
u
r
r
end
r
to emotion and wanting to fill a question.

crave excitement. fear the consequences that the unknown often brings yet wanting to let down my walls and just . . .stay the night. something so simple taking so much mind. i feel here. but i want to feel there. somewhere with someone that amuses me. someone i dont have to stimulate first. shut me up for ten minutes and to retain my flittering attentions.

want to say more. afraid of hearing it aloud.

just want to find a decent chunk of peace.

on rainy mornings wake wrapped in a sheet, dizzy on dream and senses. coffee in bed, world domination and comment on how beautiful would taste if beautiful were a fruit.

my head aches. voices. radio. tv. rain. pulse. say. said.

am i wearing the pieces of my heart that are left, on my sleeve? am i craving hoping it will be kindness? that what matters. i agree. but so does reality. and im not cohesive, im not easily taken. im not sure of anything. that's not fair either.

there are other things to think about . . .

listening to hot tuna, on ye olde player o records . . .makes me want to smile, dance . .. .

this space intentionally left blank.

i roam.
my eye is my cage
i go weak
i wake, wired
aged
ram me
against what makes
you

steal the machine
from a mother's dusty attic
and
while i learn to downshift
you drink pinot and build a silver reminder
of all
we bite our bottom lips about.
oh elvis in your fat suit
serve us up some matrimony
flashed in black and white
history on a delicious mattress in a field
of unfamiliar

love.

vicious and wired.

winter isn't my season. the dark creeps treason. erupting condition. no sides on reason.

rewind & acknowledge. the foliage the fall we met.
take it as is and make it as was.

he has the most beautiful smile. catalyst eyes. starting war and peace. simultaneous. hold me at arms length and dont let go.

confusion wrapped fusion. my heart never felt so bruised. it threatens to fade & i listen, never moving to heal.

the black unsettles my blue, turns her into me - this truth, is that im new. not who, i used, to, be. someone more like me. less like you.

i bury
love
in my backyard
unmarked
dont want to find it
anymore.

wide. three pillows over. short. printed floral & lazy. hours. mine. time. this. fine. . . . . . turning in on the details. the delicious. the delirious. dance. drink, slow, and obvious, hair falling all around . . . spin twirl ours yours . . . . a piece of laughter and streetlight shadows, swivel over flesh and fortunate.ness. sink in. sleep. steep. wake to whim. nuzzle the sunrise. eyes. surprise. diner maps & rock lobsters. swimming toward silly and coffee swirl. ride, train heading north into caves with no names and trails with ladders, lift my boots, up, up, savor. no cohesive. just there and out. some thinks to think, about.

Just sorta there, being, with my hips at a higher decibel then my mind, shaking their thing in time, with the beat goes on, encounter midnight open handed, throat scratchy gin branded, eyes glazed attention, demanding. Blue bulb electron sticks to your lips, as your hand follows the arch of my back upward my neck, shiver me …

wanted to get into the car and drive this morning.
i know it wouldn't have taken me too far, but i didnt care. i would have gone until it stopped, even if it meant ravena . . . and just stayed there. just stopped with it - and rested. would have kept the radio on and killed the battery - would have sang loud to whatever the disc jockey wanted me too.
didnt.
walked to work. faxed the paperwork. called the this who and other. put on my dress shoes. buttoned up my dress shirt. left my edge at home.
talked to a familiar. it was sweet, sad, different ~
want to talk to an unfamiliar. want to be an unfamiliar.

dearest yoko ono
found out today
we were both cocks
melting in chinese chances
one lunar eclipse at a time
orbiting round ringo
two by two
hurrah
some strange sea creature
we were meant to be
but here we are
laying on our backs
squinting at your ceiling
wondering if
our
john
is staring back

for what it's worth
im willing

althea ryder.
soft and smells like new . . .
beautiful yet worried of my own shortcomings in the process.
i dont want to fuck up something that has no choice. . . .
oh well.
it's all a process of trying . . . and being i.

more to say.
about things.
me.
it.
all.
i think i'll sleep first.

savoring the french, vanilla.

vanilla.

french the savoring.

vanilla savoring.

wine spills on carpet
stain eternal the blood of my clumsy
toes damp lapping up the remainder
drunk they walk me
around in circles

salute the unfriendlies
wave to the bend-he's
been on since june.

tear up my dress
with fingers unrest
find the fortune that lingers

super size me
may my world hypnotize these
give you something to sing for

no sun to wake up
guess the time by shades of blue

rhyming to rancid, and backward thru
the dictionary breaks
the eye in two

bonfire in the heart of albany
strangers mingle loud
lighter fluid hands
and scarlet begonias wandering around our ankles
drunk sense of self.

wake to chocolate cold
aching stomach
and shady grove
reminding me of southern california hours before the border

grapefruit in the canyons of joshua tree

my car bending around the dust
the words being etched into my insides

"wish i had a needle and thread . . . . ."

I want to know what it feels like
To kiss you laying down
Feel your stomach
Against mine
Warm bellied
Breath against tongue
Inhale my craving

I want to know what it feels like
To have your fingers
On either side of my hip
Thumb to bone
Four to flesh
Tight enough to tell
How much you want me

too long - not been here - but not been doing much ~
new jobs
new car
new home
new reasons to want futures erupting gladness
sadness
some
parts of it - somewhere
here, there, inside - karma i'm sure is assuming fairness.
this is how it is meant to be, sent to free, bent to bleed,
what am i doing without me?

nearly a month to the day since i said the things i last wanted to say
april is here, and feels as tho it's in the way
where's may?
where's my sun?
this month has been eventful ~
margaritas with the two boys, laughing, giggling, deadbeats with the 4/20 with all there - and it was beautiful and right and every week i wake up on thursday grateful to be alive but my head pounding with hangover, worth it? yes. it reminds me of being.
Lost some weight. about 5 lbs. I'm happy with that - with my cruise approaching it will be good to look good. Want the Nassau men to be impressed with us american gals.
Moving soon, have to find a place and all.
Miss Gram.
Talked to Peter and miss him too.
Rocco's reading my story the "you're like licorice" story and im excited because in finding and rereading it - i love it.
i hope he has faith in it too -maybe i can do something with it.
?
.
!
"im sitting on a citadel, contemplating life, making a point to waste my time, walking on clouds of white, what if i fall? what i never make it home? what if i bleed? what if i break?" - a/n

dreamy. dreaming. dreamed. dreams. dread. dull. drill a hole in my . . . . ducet. fifty dollars or more for a taste of what's happening in my mind.... would you pay it?
shirt less.
letting the goosebumps make tattoo rise with colored ease. listening to tunes. feelings hair tickle shoulders agonizing beg. . .dont want to go to work. want to sit here for my day - recite what i might about the things tight in my brain, that i might unravel and untie in a brave flight to save it all . . . ....................
saw gram for easter. she was good. old and tired. my mama fading with years. sad. and hard on me. the emotional sap i is. can't take those things. when i'm attached it hurts. when they want me back and when they dont.
oh well. started zola 'drinking den' - pretty good - modern for late 1870s . . .
strong heroine. i dig it.

yawn.

my mood today . . . bored

this breath, we take, we make off the huff and puff of others, slave labor, day wavers, the unconditional love of our brothers. calling us up at past midnight, saying "hey baby, how you doin?" and my it's strange, he was years younger than i .. . .. what do he know bout babies . . . nothin. maybe all he intended to do was see how i is, but i swear that i aint got no money this month to make your ends meat, little bird, you get the word, but you getting the point? my little one, just twenty one, embarking on the path of following in our "he may not be our real -father"s footsteps, he dont see it, but i see it he's going to just step away from the curb of his independence and break his neck. licked up, and shot down, curling in his belly like them good irish cremes, delicious, but nondescript, when it's all fake and it's all uhim play it, the part . . . of codnfortunate, and we can't do anything for the way things are right now. he slams the door he has, to smoke the predetermined higher up, and settle his glazed eyes on a disney poster he's had hanging for the past 11 years, pretending he's in some whole new world, without strings attached, and without girls that take his heart to mutilate over their own insecurities and wickedness. he thought he'd be a daddy by now, and he nearly were, only she wasn't pregnant and she had to say it, to make dling her "oh i am so alone", making her queen of his ghetto throne, her lipstick on too tight, her hair done greased back, his hands shaking when touching her, afraid to hurt the non-existant embryo up within her. the hymen of her having been broke six years earlier, when she was just 12 by a friend of her father, on a bunk bed in the cellar, her father locking them up downstairs, fingering his fifty dollar bill, it smelled so new, and so ready to head to the corner of eight ball and main. she leaves the downstairs, starry eyed, teary eyed . . . every man she makes, claims, "yes, baby, i'm a virgin." just for them. just for them. she always screams louder the first time they fuck, just to get it out, the lies- i mean. Make them feel so grand, and "holy shit man, this bitch was tight" .. .. and all their friends high five, and smirk under dark skies while she sits in the backseat holding her legs tight, tight, tight, together.by time she meets my brother, the lover, she's all fucked up, on hate, and forty, and oh lordy, she cries without command, understand, she's just a baby herself, but she dont know that her insides are all turning black, tar diseased and uterus ceased, something having to do with HIV, but it dont come out, ever, aloud anyway. my little irish kitten kin, just goes on and wallows beside her, aside her, inside her, lapping up all her dangerous juice. . . .oh dear god, oh dear god, baby bird is dying. and she's dead on the other end of the phone line. gone off to chile, or costa rica, some place south of any border, says she hates feeling "kept down" . . . .this breath we take, we make, off the huff and puff of others

what am i doing?
restless, abandoning/abandoned/a band of . . .
bitching.
complaint and restraint
no strings attached
& still in albany. who will i be? where will i
be?
be come
be cause
be calm
be.at.
j.k.

st. patricks day past, trip on and trip out, black lip and aint it dysfunctional, so jacqueline-esque of me . . . to follow up my heritage with a good bruise. they know how to break all the girls like me.

followed up the dancing with a full day of sleep and bad tv.

listening now to hole. and enjoying courtney because i can and will. funny when some chicks put her down but support ani. a whole rant i dont wish to defend.

youre ripe for the picking it's so awful.

dont know what i'm doing with life. just satisfied to be speaking to jack. he's a good piece of my life. a good formed ignition.
....
a lot of celebrity skin can be directly applied to kurt and i love those few lines, and they are so right, most of her insight and fear and all that stuff is amazing. it's so socially correct especially coming from a woman about women.

......tired. still.

next weekend is easter. nyc and grammas house. dance some to reckoning and color eggs with grams. . . good times. possibly. busy it feels like there is always something to do or where to be. yet i'm not making strides to stop it all - so much noise and i can't turn it off, i just scream louder.

"howd you get so desperate howd you stay alive, help me please, burn the sorrow from your eyes, come on be alive again, dont lay down and die" . . . .

going to think about moving soon. i'm so lazy though .... have to pack again and prepare again and readjust. i hate those moves. i hate work to do. i dont want to pack up what is living and safe and transport it. can't i just find a place to stay awhile longer?

another font. hopefully more encouraging. or at least ... couraging.

wednesday after coming home from db i was regretting not writing. the walls were shaking, the street lights melting, and my mind was so fast and furious - i should have written something . . . but i couldn't bring myself to knowing i'd read it the next day and be unable to face it -

i need a better desk. maybe that would inspire? this wall and calendar do nothing for me. . .

"remember you promised me? i'm dying, i'm dying please. i want to, i need to be, under your skin.... our love is quicksand, so easy to drown. . ."

I should figure out how to add pictures here, but i should figure out a lot of other things first.
like life. me. what is happening with my future. i can't work at the bh eternally. i need new air. i need to feel amazing.

"now i know that love is dead. you came to bury me. there's nothing left here to pretend."

found out william kennedy and hsthompson were close. letter correspondance for over ten years. blows my mind. wk is a douche bag - so that knowledge was a trip to learn. rip hunter and your poor taste in friends.

sopranos. season two. currently obsessed with it. can't help myself. love italians & mobsters. why? the power? the accent? the crazed need to do what's right - for themselves. that is hot. mmm, or maybe i just want to be in some sweet mansion making banana bread for some tough bastard who leaves me alone most of the time, but gives me enough to survive when i am alone. i dont know. i'd hate it i'm sure. but nice to ponder the ideas. the differences. the lifestyles bizzare from my own.

day off today. eye exam - great, left eye is worse.
facial - i feel good. hand stuff too made skin soft and unlike usual. i'm not rough but im not amazing to touch either. so it was a good nice time.
grocery shopping. felt shitty cause i had to use rent money for it, but that's surviving right?
i dont know.
who knows.
we're all just tired of this living thing.

pink floyd on loud. coffee. a skirt. black. shake these hips. tips. back and flow. forth, fro, low in black combat . . . boots.
morning of disoriented angels and angles, and this tune fearless has me all wrangled. . . as it always has . . .
the guitars so thick.

fearlessly . . .
smiling . . .

never heard so much love in a song before. so much fullness.

and who's the fool that wears the crown?

and everyday is the right day . . .

tomorrow is day off. have an eye exam tho, and a facial - wow, my first bonafide facial. a v-day gift to utilize. . . .im scared and excited. what could one possibly do with a face for an hour?
that's bizzare and beautiful and something i'll be partaking within . . .

contemplating easter in nyc with reckoning at the lions den, not sure yet.

went out twirling last night. feel tired way too tired today. but i cut m'self off after three beers, i'm a good'n . . . next week tho - watch out - st.patrick's wednesday - i'll be letting m'self off the responsible hook... haha

oh march finish for god's sake....

and if the dam breaks open many years too soon, if there is no room upon the hill, and if your head explodes . . . . i'll see you on the dark side of the













moon.
the lunatic is in




my head
the luna


tick
isin
myhead
you raise the blade
you make the change
you rearrange me
till i'm


s a ne
you look the door and throw away the key

there's someone in my head
but
it's not



m e

deranged, this range, of senses, nonsensical. . .avoiding the void. flowers flowing rusty petals rotting over edges of a vase glowing with browning water . . . the morning comes as an enemy. i begged for more sleep last night - a solid 10 hours at least. not the 7 i found. more more. let me hibernate my wednesday mornings, mourning dreams and seams i can't fix.

today is deadbeats. a blessed forgetting. spin and twirl till i forget and whirl and drink the current inside. . .

enjoy the laughter.
j.

hunter s. thompson. yeah, well, he's dead too.
all these sacrifices.
none my own. just my general disinterest in emotion.
finding it hard to find myself. in all this mess of responsibility & growing up we're told we do.

not happy anywhere. in my head or out. not depressed. just wondering when i'll laugh.

color me in
color me black
color me gray
color me anyway
color my sun
color me in like anyone
i wanna be you
i dont want to be me
so cover my sun
cover my mouth
cover my eyes
give me your hands
open your wings
cover my eyes
cover my eyes
color me in
open your wings
color me in
color me in
cover my mouth your hands
my lips and my eyes

teeth pulled.
need second job.
have to file taxes.
lucien carr is dead.

april had her baby.
marsha said everyone had a baby.
josh is flying to seattle.
i'm in the void in my head.

working forty hours.
health and that 4o1 deal.
when did it all get so grown up?
i have a few fish that swim.

albany is cold still.
gray.
music makes me laugh.
painkillers louder.

finicky.
disappointing.
demanding.
great, exactly as i wish to be . . . .
sad at that - wonder what i could have done different
wonder why i wasn't told sooner
as to stop
oh well
light headed and headed to the light
night

saw her standing there, tears upon her cheek . . . telling me something was wrong
i asked her what it was


ah darius -my long lost
of being sixteen or seventeen
and hearing myself wallow and swallow, and hollow -

look away she said..... as she turned away
i tried to hold her

i imagine louis. starstruck on billie joe and guitars hanging too low..... my own hot pink strapped on - black sweet smooth on my belly - then smooth - fuzzied by puberty and unknown -
no one could touch it then. nor i - my shield the shock, my clock of broken hands, and saddenned faces. . .

at the top of the parking lot behind cvs, behind me shop rite waiting for gram. . . . listening to music, alone, as though i'd died tomorrow - sorting out my pieces . . . who would go to what

where?