Tuesday, August 18, 2009

boots rain and drinking.

The sky was seismic
cracked open pouring
rolling thunder and electric current
the pavement cool black glass
our boots stomping torrents
on the way to the bar,
the lights drawn out
beneath our feet.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

in order to fall in love again,
you must unlearn all of your old habits.
You must take back the rituals and
stop listening to your ex lover's favorite music.

it's not as easy as it looks,
trying not to make the same mistakes.

Saturday, August 1, 2009


sitting on a new future couch,
which is the same orange but a different size,
still exhausted but with rounder edges,
silken cushions that I slide off of invariably
after a long night, or at the beginning of a terribly long day.
the buzzing of the cicadas is reminiscent
of the summer we spent drunkenly
glancing into the fish tank that we had dubbed
"the ci-queda strong hold"
impatiently waiting for the moment the bug would
shed it's skin
so we could snap it up for photographs and sculptures.
We could have used all those moments for something else!
All of the cicadas died,
exoskeleton and all.