The world you want is just around the corner, up the stairs, around the corner, up the…

Let’s Stay Awake & Afraid Of This





(All of the brightest things live in the darkest places.)

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

as a young kid, i learned the rules of magic until it wasn’t magic at all. early adolescence was a wasteland. it was music - the space between intervals & minor chords- that restored my belief in you, me, them, us & everything.

children yearn, i think, for a language that does not reveal its secrets, but amplifies them until each thought is a song.

Underexposure of an Overexposed Man

Of my entire first roll, this was the only one that didn't turn out. Still I feel like I somehow didn't miss anything.

UPHILL LIKE STRAIGHT INTO THE SKY

[this is the experience of a man named Joshua]

i woke early & went running along the sea-breeze  sun climbing the steel beams of the bay bridge as the city collectively rolled out of bed & into an office chair.

[and it moved me, so i internalized enough of it to use his words twofold.]

“Maybe we are cups of water from the same sea. Sometimes you still feel lonely.”

Some nights I sleep so deeply I cease to exist. My belongings, as well, unravel. 
Picture the ocean poured endlessly over the ocean, et cetera. Then erased;  Still the morning comes & I’m there, half awake & holding my coffee in the doorway.

The Impossible Ladder

The elegant plan, the simple inarticulate hope
the incessant dusting, the uncovering that hovers here
the unremarkable rungs of the impossible ladder
that you think of these things at all.
The cups that are clean, then filled, then cleaned
the nowhere fear, the terror of arrival
the sad spaces in front & above, the sap of happiness
the matter-of-fact alleyways
the proper thing to do or say at the wrong time & place
that you think of these things at all.
The honest beggar, the blinding white lie of language
the stubborn smokestacks & on-ramps, the dull ache of static
the bored understanding of traffic patterns
the unspent plea, the common cold openings
the nature of torn pockets, the multidimensional smile
that you think of these things at all.

Good exists. Bad exists. There is some disagreement which is which. 

if it aint broke, don't fix it

i just feel so f'ed up that i have no idea how to fix this thing, or what parts ever broke.
only just that once it wasn't at all like this.
at all-
not even, sometimes

In the land of one season, you can pretend that no time passes.

room after room of such waiting

We are bothered by crowds, choked with the wings of our angels,

standing on the sidewalks, wobbling through alleyways- coughing
;

Projected on the streets like stars


All those lovers in the foreplay of morning


If time reversed, sunsets would sunrise & sunrise would set,

& we’d wake up so tired, we’d fall asleep full of rest-But still there’d be dark, there’d be light. Thunder, then lightning.

& room after room of such waiting..