Archive for the 'Analogies' Category

cdli. stair

September 14, 2006

the stages of losing like holding onto water. the cold rushing by nearly waking. i couldn’t stay that way. that’s why i’ve gifted the breeze with nothing, with steps of air.

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cdxlix. cf

August 25, 2006

i love your words more and more, the delight of similarities differently read, falling like cold but romantic nights.

cdxlv. learn to look beyond

August 22, 2006

real treasures must be peeled apart much the way you’d peel an onion: a layer at a time.

cdxxvi. this war

August 5, 2006

predators don’t have regrets. memory does. predators, however, unfortunately, like their prey, have memory. i want to eat up all the histories of all of men and thereby set them free. but sometimes i suspect the selfish content of my motives.

cdxix. yousweetsexythangyou

July 30, 2006

i pierce you, my dick like a bayonet in your somnolent orifice, weary like me, hoping you pour out more for us to float on. you, the gondolier guiding me as i surround your venetian boat vessel.

cccxcviii. slowmo

July 14, 2006

the birds are slower these days. too many worms get away. the sun swells like a heartbeat and sweat pours down my back.

cccxciii. ha

July 11, 2006

my laughter once rang like fine church bells, but your shadow has pressed me flat. i’ve forgotten my name, my mother’s name, the town of my birth, the face of my first lover, the color of my father’s hair. i’ve forgotten it all.

ccclxxxii. innocence

July 4, 2006

it’s kind of like learning to slip my briefs off so you can touch me–those little tricks you learn over the years in some dark backseat of a car or maybe if you’re lucky, a sofa.

ccclxxvii. a poetrycam of some sort

July 1, 2006

looking over the mug, i tip back a pencil behind my ear. the pencil like a pool cue as i scratch my head. a green ledger binder across my cross-legged lap.

ccclxv. nope

June 4, 2006

you don’t hear me talking about my problems because i don’t know how. it’s not that they’re not terrible, i can think of a few people i’d wish them on. and it’s not a sentimental problem like a broken heart. it’s something, though. a big impossible something.