Journal

Note to self

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Note to self. (Tap for sound. @johncameronmitchell)

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Airplane Parts

October 25, 2018

I wrote this line in 2008.
A friend of mine in England just saw it on a porn site.
You can imagine how proud we are here at headquarters.

Everything we broke in our home

October 24, 2018

Everything here on the ground is a trigger.
Don’t expect to be warned again.

You’re a full grown jawbone.
Though, I have zero proof that any of us are adults.

But there is still a voice inside me that believes
we will make miracles of the laughter left between us.

Photo @jonryanisdead

O Brother We Art Now

October 20, 2018

Just arrived at my residency with @airserenbe after 24hrs travel (London -> Iceland -> JFK -> Atlanta). Took a nap listening to rain on the roof. Woke up to this gentle little concert hidden in the woods. I love you, Georgia. Let’s finish the book now.

 

Elbows

October 15, 2018

Andrea gift for my first day back to fight class.

Rhetorichter Scale

October 6, 2018

You ever thought about relaxing? Ya know just taking all your world domination money, getting a massage every morning, enjoying it and letting people with a moral compass have a go at making good on the enlightening ideals your malnourished followers have given up on?

 

RESOLVE/HARMONY ENEMY/COME HOME

October 5, 2018

Everybody’s got a story that comes from a bad story that lives in a sad story.

Stop telling it. Perfect

probably isn’t what you think it is.

What are we even aiming at when we use that word?

There will be a lot of shooting.

Most of it won’t be straight. Don’t worry.

You don’t have to be good at everything.

There are so many people here.

If you really want to do something flawless

stay present. Your fate

is just another word for now, just another name for transmute density.

Meditation is critical. And mercy. Have mercy.

These bodies are a sticky hologram.

Being human does not require any further context.

Your expectations of me are not my responsibility.

Those are yours.

Everyone gets the same amount of time to live their lives.

I want to be a reliable narrator for living

so I’ll just tell you the worst of it first and be done with it.

Realizing the transparency of my neediness was dignity well spent.

Forgiveness is a matter of advocating for dignity.

When my body came home from the shame experiment

the first thing I saw was its resolve.

If you still aren’t willing to cut every loss you are not yet prepared to qualify.

Cut the loss. The story of it. I stopped being nostalgic

when I started keeping up.

Seeing a man run as fast as he can still gives me goosebumps.

I’m not scared to die, I just don’t want it to hurt.

I bet the biggest misconception about death is that we won’t care anymore.

I will never not love you.

Trying to hide the absence of your love is a mathematical impossibility.

You were the year I wished my life on other people.

Magnets are incapable of lying.

Darkness is redundant. I wanted us to be the truth.

I meant to do it correctly.

In loving gain of our memory. And mercy.

Do not flake on the blessing.

There is every such thing. We were every such thing.

I may have been grossly underprepared to receive love.

Was it even in this lifetime that we knew each other?

Tonight I painted my apartment and remembered every life I’ve ever lived

including the one where you read this.

Was I really too sensitive, or were you just too unconscious?

Maybe we work our way to the middle.

Maybe we work our way into what we are.

Why don’t you want to know what we are?

I’ll cut your costume loose. Cut you right out of it.

When something is absent it is absolutely not in your way.

Get in my way. Come remind me what we are together. Do it soon.

Soon we will have to say what we have to say to each other’s faces.

Mine is I love you. Mine is Have mercy.

I just wanted to throw something as hard as I could.

I wasn’t paying attention to what it would do when it landed.

* From Buddy Wakefield’s upcoming 2019 book, A Choir of Honest Killers.

Printflocking

October 4, 2018

He wrote to you with firecracker chalk
on the blackboard background

from a free-standing landing pad
held together by choir claps

over butter cups spraying
out the mouths of doves.

Getting to his point
would require starting over

at the outer loop
of your ripple effect

swinging monkey bar style
arm over arm

parallel to parallel
minding the gaps.

Sometimes
it takes a deeper breath

to hover on holy
against the current.

He wasn’t falling out of love with you.
He was falling out of ways to tell you.

Photo by @b.a.vansise who pulled this poem from a 2008 anthology on @writebloodypublishing (The Last American Valentine) to feature in his project photographing American poets. He mentioned something about the Smithsonian, but I steer clear of expectations for such things. Was a great experience working with him. Also, my mom would shit her pants….

Handsome Moon Studio

October 3, 2018


It’s a welcome surprise when artists include my work in theirs>
Thank you for this @handsomemoonstudio.

Sweet Ann and the Great Brittle

September 27, 2018

Angel Nachos

September 24, 2018

A scout for the Angels is a poetry fan and thanked us with tickets.

Not having to buy tickets, we had enough allowance money
left to eat things no human ever should…

Pastrami cheese fries. Do you understand now?

Goodbye cruel world

September 22, 2018

I just poured maple syrup onto the bacon that was in the pan so it would reduce to a sticky spandex outfit for the bacon and it’s working and I can’t hang out with any of you ever again.‬

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