From My Window To Yours

Snippets of thought and imagery; reflections from a rippling pond; the on-going turbulence of the road and all the beauty and horror it brings.

It has always seemed strange to me, the things we admire in men, kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding and feeling are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest, sharpness, greed, aquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest are the traits of success.

—John Steinbeck, Cannery Row

where you walked

If only this
were quicksand
if only you
were dreaming
the feeling

if only
the sink
was slower
you would have
a little more
to breathe

but this aint no
quicksand
this aint no
memory
of mine

I hold my life in a rearview mirror. Always looking over my shoulder. Somethings I have left for the good, other times I have left just to realize all too late that I had what I wanted, but still I drove away.

Maybe one day I’ll get through my head that timeless rule: watch the road.

giants

I let it out
the atmosphere
of Jupiter
revolves
around this heart
one time
one decade
a multitude of
heavy feelings
I’ve expelled—
gone to the wind

I gotta hand it to New York for being so pretty

I gotta hand it to New York for being so pretty

throw the switch

they said at 600
the e-meter breaks
and so does
the sweat, twice
the normal rate
of pulse, and one day I
witnessed seven
hundred and twenty-two
vps
the sky turned
around, grey
the dawn broke
as the streetlights winked
to the path
to hell, or heaven
depending on
who took today
the reading wrote permanent
scars, burns though
it was lightning, not the sun
that set forest to this fire,
who set down the cables
attached to my
sleepin’ lids

For me, then sun sets south

X marking the spot

she gone
to the dogs

and every scrap of
sunshine she collected
was thrown
over the side

I laughed though
I couldn’t
stand in
the sidewalk—
it was under-
water or melted

cant remember

shook this ground, baby
lost my place and
a foot off
the trail

gone cold
to the dawn

and every bit
of it
was found
on the roadside

land no

I took bullets
for no one

on the side
of the road
in the side
of my legs

mountains grew
from lead

I climbed
them by
the roots of
your hair

stuck in my teeth
gone to the wolves

on the side
of the ocean
I swam
towards no shore

machines

lights were off
and
everywhere
there was a sound
of flesh on plastic
a fake noise
like the news
breaking the old story
over and
over and
over
and over

the lights were
off and blinking
through the dusk I
thought I saw
the line between
man and machine

but I
was mistaken

south songs

they played back
like winds
pushing north
but bound south
the voices came
back over transistors
and the key was in C
if I remember
a foundation
I breathe
along
as they played back
I was reminded of home

I have had multiple dreams in which Flava Flav was my spirit animal

Hard to believe its been six months since I left California (though really it’s been almost a year since I had a permanent residence there). I used to be one of those “west coast is the best coast” people but I can say for certain that I dont want to move back there, at least not for a really long time. I may have been in New Orleans for only five months and even though I am enjoying the east coast so far I think it’s safe to say that I consider New Orleans to be home, I miss it very much, and I look forward to going home in the autumn.