They're Bloodletting the Foundation

A stronger skin over the wrong side of my heart.
Swinging like a pendulum, the proof is in the metal that clinks under my shirt. Now and
forever, I'll have an addendum that'll deflect the descending ozone [that smokes on the
sidewalks].

A Born Again Warrior of the well worn soles and tied tongued losses.
As despicable as I've found humanity to exhibit- a constant held true before my first
compound sentences- I'm coming around the bend without breaking. [or disolver, revolving,
inverting, converting, this convection] More forgiving? Possibly. More understanding?
Definitely. How about more warped into a coated reality of reading skies while in
conversation? Indeed.

The other night, rain soaked, foreign clothing.
A fogged morning: a new yearded chapped quarter lip, wonky walked Volver
a girl with golden hair
a princess eating soup how we eat
across: a boy who is an underdog
backlog: listing in our wet clothes,
buffer zone blanket fold:

Here today
I kept
the car in gear
chewing on a metrocard
circling the block
because i had to see the way the light was
again
so i wouldnt forget
january second
two thousand seven
--------------------

Extending the kindness of fingertips
to shoulderwings
and blades of running
teeth across the edge of
beckoned glass.

There with a blackened dollar bill
the street signs blur.
Fanning blocks of loose change,
wandering above poverty lines.

Smiles farther now, because there is
work i need to get under the first layer of the skin
below the artery of
my right wrist or
whatever gets palest when my lips go blue
for the first time
by name.
-----------
I never actually made a checklist. I never really needed to.

november round-up.

old friends meet up. seldom occassions of r.k. smiling. one of these people i kicked in the face after he slapped me.

i never thought i had a.d.d.
i was tested once but used devices such as telephone keypads and patterns in surrounding paintings to aid in short term memory. this was such a habit, that it screwed me. i'll never know what the results of that test would be.
that was the year i fell in love for the first time
[oh -and so hard. i was actually crippled in pain. when i experienced the repeated absence rot- i tried to recall that first hurt and equate the two. i just got sicker. i was in love so bad my body almost fell apart. now i keep it together by using my good old back up plans. poor eye contact and all those other "cosmo donts" they work! ---if your aim is the "don't"]
that year i was scattered. i kissed people i hated and had hero-worship complexes. its horrible to admit- but every single person i ever thought was worth it- wanted as a friend or to have an intimate moment with- i got- i mean- i "WON"
you can imagine how this is catching up with me now.

i am inspired by the wrong things.
here is a quick list of items that would surely get me bound to the whipping post by literary -laureates-evils-nobels- and colleagues:
-shoe designs.
-watching the tactics employed by people who have nothing to hold on to on the subway.
-the average time the mail comes on a saturday.
-writing over reviews in decibel magazine. general comments and snide remarks that no one will see. in red ink. for example- the converge "no heroes" album. "yeah right" or for some bands: "not actually where their scene was initially based"
-writing over poems in poetry books and literary journals
-the way old women dress [perhaps to blame for my old job in the fashion industry]
-irrational hatred of: neckface, boys with asymmetrical haircuts and people who are flakier than i.
-how long it takes me to get my coffee, the amount of sugar in it, HOW LONG IT TAKES ME TO DRINK IT. [where i will procure it: which burrough- westchester, the bronx, manhattan, did i remember my club card]
-soup. sweet potato soup.
-how i would move to albQ, NM if i could. or the desert.
-sometimes i want to hug strangers on the subway: NOTE: most dangerous inspiration. especially when people are pubically crying.
-bed [un]make-ups.
-many many more for future installments.

here are a few things people arnt prepared for upon meeting me:
i will openly insult you to see if you can take it. a quick ribbing. nothing terrible. if im tipsed, it will be a little more insulting. i dont lose my judgement innebriated. men have made this mistake. i've gotten into confrontations. most of the time i'll walk away but there might be an offshoot that i'll be ready to throwdown. unispired drinking. its not romantic. no one cares if you get high or drink. people who usually care are usually not very inspired themselves and are on that -yes- journey.
i'll most likely chose music over friendship unless the friendship has nothing to do with music. i'll compromise in relationships. i am a more positive person than those who claim to be but lead miserable unfulfilling lives.
ALRIGHT.

clean bills; the drycleaned dollar.

you were fucked up in beauty
the thread of confusing red string wrung round your lips in a dark
temperate
flux.
and i was there holding the pivets and hollows of my knees
bending my fingers back
and retracting my every word
no
extracting it.
this was the way i was.

i was the first of the fruit to fall
and be handed
amongst men,
amongst the crowds.
and there was a shush
and
my personal fables were quiet.

and there was a humm
and my inviible audience was on
that string.

tied to my finger,
these reminders. dedicating words
to the lights as they faint from exhaustion.

my neck just this source of strength. to hold my head up. this pride compromised like a kneadable eraser. these days like a gift,
each. and where are we putting them?
behind us. watching us walk away.
this.
the way it should be. man creation of the pocketwatch;
the way it was.