28.12.09

roll.in.

whenonorwhyweget sicka this shit
just sick of it.

rollin back and forth reelinin and up down out round the blue the navy blue memories
stuck and lurching in a bucket rusted out with guts
rusted round the windowless room
that same sick fucking feeling
i am sixteen again
i am twenty three
i am sucking thumbs again
i have lost my.

hoping my.

silence will speak louder than my god damned words.

12.12.09

rainingonsunlight.

it is raining on sunlightdrenched green mountains and over a flat sea tagliato con le onde bianche it streaks like waves across my eyes and i realize how much i've missed the sea. i have married the sea.
god i love it when nature is bigger than me. a crumbling castle set alone on the edge of an island where i want to swim to run in the deep cold sea.

flying into sicilia again.

the brightest double rainbows i have ever seen and they are following me. a day that seems we have all died.
and gone to heaven.

9.12.09

curioustop.

why when i stopped being a child did the highlights magazines stop being interesting?
why did i stop being curious about knowing?
every day?

7.12.09

lost skeleton key.

i am wondering about all the skeleton keys over time which have gotten lost. ancient iron fades in flavor gives way to the soft thud of a fist and delicate intricacies, secrets are no more. sacred becomes public till
the chain link fence.

grove.y.

a flock of seagulls fall on an open empty field. an orchard of grid baby trees wrapped in plastic bags make me smile. white shakin in the sunlight
followed by an orange grove still in its prime.
fields of fresh raked soil littered with stones.

etna.

lontano lontano vedo le montagne nella distanza, traces of chariots aflame with silver piumage. is it etna? is it paradise? i imagine myself as a warrior, beard long and waving, rising up through the front of the crowd screaming 'ANDIAMO!' my sword shaking like a fist in the face of god.

smoke.

smoke over the city. it is a day with breeze siphoned from a blackberry covered hill drawn in colored pen scratches in a book of my childhood which once belonged to my mother.

ortigia.

skeleton sailboats have the wings of a dragonfly and they shoot
buzzards across the sand.
sun is shrouded in salt and sees me through tear fogged eyes set in glass.
i am the smallest sailboat dripping bright blue perched on the horizon line teetering on the edge of this flat world made of rock and salt water.
filling my nose and greeting me with seaweed stained rusted air.

fisheyelenz.

i hate having 'cum' in my hair.

it tugs and pulls like eighties hairspray.

and dont think because i'm looking so deep in your eyes that i'm looking so deep into your eyes.

my tits look much bigger in that fisheyelenz.