Thursday, January 7, 2010

Where the nose knows, we go, we're already gone

What do you do with a one-off line, when you can't even think of thinking of time? What dizzy listless things are you doing this morning, Mr. D—? Alex, whence will you walk? Have we never woken together, half cherished/half forgotten? Mariah, what does anything I say ever mean? Lamb, won't you want to see me? American livery, will you ferry me safely down? Angel, how does it end?

What's the postmodern gospel? In this life the saccharine sedentary sometimes looks like the other side. I'm melting into the mid-century mehs, hanging on a teaser and waiting on places the Cadillac didn't get you.

There's no phrase to match the lazy-daisy redhead maybes. I will try to hold tight to the cards I've got, hope I can wait for your colors to mirror my missing half. Rorschach imagined rainbow neurosis and I am clinging to the dream, you see! We can be blurry mystics on paper and hold ambiguity on high.

Jen, we can drink and kiss and freeze and cry and steal away, but I will never be your man. I thought it looked like the moon on my pillow, but it was only computer light. If it were emptier, I could empty my heart, and howl into all this cold white tile like I howled in the summer dark.

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