You have a fair amount of choice
Fair like this day
And her hair in the breeze
And the ferris wheel
Moving round and round in the hollow
Of my chest
I’ve been feeling so tired
No one makes me feel young anymore
But the smell of spring
And I think that I’ll try again
I’m not asking for much,
Just a couple
Of pages will do
I tied my worries
Into a bundle of old letters
And lost them in your high tide
Sometimes input is Just Data
Sometimes it’s the World
Words do not belong to us
It’s about how we use them
What I’ve learned—here at least—
You can’t fail
But I’ve also learned—in my years—
Don’t be afraid to try
Vague stanzas sound significant
Specifics can sound righteous
I sound pretentious
So much depends upon
Writing, writhing, wringing
Words and not spaces,
Pick me up and put me in you red wheelbarrow
Sprint through the yard with me
Pitched forward on its thick rubber wheel
I’ll sing you a poem
Wrapped up in geist and frosted flakes
Until I tip out
Onto the muddy, wheel torn, grass
“Why would you feel bad?”
you snap at me,
defensive not wanting to hear
so I don’t, for you
and I think about
lying on the bamboo, out in the forest
What is life, but an
Stretched to fit our words?
You are a watchmaker
You see the beauty in my parts.
You understand that broken is
A testament to tried and true
You mend me, because you know I am worth your time
What is sense?
Truth, resonance, something inarguable, or
Something that’s already been said
But it does exist in
A relationship of non-sense
I don’t get why everyone is trying to tell me
What they think I think (or feel). I think they
Think they know what I feel because they
Feel like they’ve seen me like this before.
But I think they’re
Idiots. I do what I want…
Sometimes there is nothing to say
It’s fun when those times fall
On Valentine’s Day
Maybe I’m out in left field
But, then nothing
Except baseball and shortstops
And unanswered questions
Mean anything to me
When your boyfriend manages
To convince you that
Valentine’s day is just
A hallmark holiday
You turn to baseball
For men who chew seeds,
Run through the
Bases, making balls fly
And crowds grow wild
Like sunflowers along the fence
I gave you a weed rose
On Valentine’s Day.
You liked that. I wonder
If I knew everything back then.
It has a personality.
I wonder if it’s
Better than mine.
I wish I could fold into your laugh lines
They cradle life like an infant
And blow miraculous wonders into pruned toes
Habitual ordering of words,
Hypothetical suggestions, a prescription
For the neurons of the interlocutor to follow
I didn’t know what was going on
I own a TV.
But it won’t tell me how to see it.
Why is it that things happen all at once,
Or nothing happens at all?
Is it in the stars? Based on the tides?
The rising & setting of the sun?
I wish I could control it more
And I’m not even a control freak
I wish I could snap my fingers & be with you
Across an ocean in milliseconds
# dream on
control oceans, control TVs
control revolutions, evolutions
Egypt, snap, no control
I’d like to float
Over the many squares
That have cradled
I called you sporadically for three weeks asking you to be my friend.
You seem to have forgotten the moments in your blue box car.
I sat behind the wheel trying to learn stick shift
You the teacher in the passenger seat
The greatest lesson you ever taught me was
To let go.
Tramping through fallen boughs and
Scrapped leaves, my boot skids
On a loose rock, and my feet slide out.
As it Got Caught in my throat
I contemplated keeping it there
Snug and tight
It seemed to fit
Like a glove
Just read something that has the potential
To change my perspective on life.
For today at least.
Tomorrow I’ll probably need another
4pm wake-up call.
I don’t think we’ll know what made you so quiet
You are your own secret
You never told us
And you’ve said much more with your silence
There’s a certain slant of light
On the parking garage and
On winter afternoons that
Make cars drive slower
The fuel a thick jelly in the engine
For the moment before it starts
You wonder if you’ll have an
Excuse to stay home
We can both explore
The insides of your
Mind, where you
Cook high-tech language.
compiled by Lily
You know father time?
He measures the strands of white hairs
The number of missing teeth
But he needs to spin counter clockwise
To keep up with my inner child.
What if all clocks spun counter-clockwise
Would we count down to noon or New Year?
And would the years go in reverse?
The hands on a clock are always running
I wish I could them but I know
I’m not supposed to.
I wonder what I’d so if I one day
Clocks are weird
Who uses clocks?
Time is weirder
That’s my cue
What comes in spaces
Because you know
You did it,
The ice in my mold
Has melted, leaving
Hollow spaces, your
The mountain is
Sturdy, durable, solid.
But time and erosion
Will have the last say.
Are when I see the thick vines
Granlery through the reins
Consuming the minerals and breaking down
The work of people long ago
I feel relieved that nothing lasts forever
Even time won’t last fore er-
Odd time might
Why can’t we love without complications
Or without heaviness?
Or without restriction.
Should have kept my coat
It looks so hazy and warm
I’ve been complaining
The words aren’t coming easily
They filter through
Maybe language fails when you see it,
Like a preview of thoughts
If you say or hear something out loud
You can’t pretend it didn’t happen
Or you didn’t see it
Words aloud are real
Can’t be here
Too much longer
Too much time
Passing the time
The people are
Two, or more
It’s weird to see past thoughts
On paper, like someone watched
Me thinking them before
Amnesia is necessary at times
Because memory is a burden
Remembering thoughts would require
Dn’t gv m
Ny f yr
Maybe all men got one big soul everybody’s a part of, all faces are the same man.
-Grapes of Wrath
(wait, can I quote someone in this collaborative poem?)
If not, I offer you this: I need to leave. There is so much more
Than this, that which we pretend to know.
There are many things that crack under pressure
Egg shells, walls, the earth beneath our feet
Don’t fall in.
Grapes of wrath and dust
Bowls over through plain
And Japanese roll
The quietest person in the room always
Suffers the most scrutiny.
It seems like agony because the spotlight is
I sleep at my house
But my home is everywhere
It’s good to be home
Why does spring hurt so much?
So Much happier
in shorts and t-shirt
The weather is mocking me.
all i've wanted is sunshine
and on such a dark day
why do they say everything happens for a reason?
Everyone suffers in their own way
because suffering is relative.
Suffering is relatives
relatives, oh what suffering
they manage to cause
both with their presence
and with their absence
listening to katy perry
in class – springtime dream
i took this class & i liked it
I am calm for the first time in weeks.
the unhinged door is aligned with the stars.
My breath is sleeping soundly
in the crib built in my lungs
I need to allow myself
a breath; it's so much
nicer to breath when
the air is warm.
Is the weather
a placebo? Maybe
but I'm smiling
By Pack of Wild Cigarettes
News at eleven.
If you go to parties
dressed as a panda
then you can be
Do the British say "Brilliant" as often as they say it on TV?
I didn't notice
But then again I was too busy trying to find the love of my life
on a train.
When time flies I love you
work hard, play hard
April showers bring the wrong side of the bed
keep your eye on the prize
or you won't play to win
my heart stops when the sun is shining
if life is a journey
i cant decide how long I've been on it for
but i always hope for something to shift my path
a boulder in the way and there's
no way around
if i were a boulder
my life could be a round of
songs or alcoholic beverages
more drinks, more songs more
stones. saturday night fever
and I'm just heating up.
$20 for a week of alcohol?
I'm paying up. I gotta be
efficient so I can dress the boy
in a leopard bra.
If you say you want me to
find what I'm looking for,
and you're open to anything that happens,
you should mean it.
Data minds yield data mines
min your own damn mind
I feel hyperlinked
hypertactical drill sergeants
carpet-bombing brain stems
room temp w/ a breeze
thats all i needs
you know what happens when I google my name?
when I google "Sarah"?
the first hit is the Wikipedia page for Sarah Palin.
Sarah fucking Palin.
What a disgrace.
we see this paper pad going around
And perhaps something comes to us when its across the room.
But then you forget it.
How much of excitement lies in anticipation?
is waiting half the fun? all?
if life is one big waiting room
you better put down the magazine.
trying to remember to appreciate what I have
trying to be "grateful"
and think things could be worse
only makes me more cynical than ever
maybe you can read my mind,
though I'm not sure
where you learned to
read in stars
I miss the suction sound of your ear
against the speakers of old phones
with the chunky buttons
set up by the door
plugged in under the hat box dresser
the notepad and credit union pen
all ready to take down messages
for my parents
sometimes you just need
to turn down the volume
and enjoy the white noise.
Its the little things that
are hard to hear or
I miss the silence in between our voices
the people who get stuck in the
mire of my life are
glad to have gone missing
note to self: add mire, admire, a mired, red mid
that night we were reckless together
you left your seed of doubt in me.
we should have used a condom.
I hate spring. Winter forever! Grim, frosty, ice.
I hate winter. Three months
Is too long to feel depressed.
Three long winters
Too depressed for spring
Frosty months ice hate
Not going to have any more snow
Tried to build an [igloo?] in the backyard
Had to use a tarp for a top
We were always a grey slush
Somewhere between a liquid
And a [dehition?]
Our cold stiffness
Thaws in the warm,
We breath of March.
Yes the wet breath of March
Down my neck as I trudge along
March is the black hole of
Confusion and delusion
Until we are finally free of
The [grey?] days
And also I don’t feel like talking today.
I guess I’m the only one who likes winter
I miss snow, I’ll take it over rain
And I hate spring
I wish there were only three seasons
Vivaldi might agree
Time doesn’t belong on a wrist
Or a wall
Or a dresser
I want to capture it
And turn it upside down
I love winter! I feel like a need to go to Siberia in the summer
To hibernate until it gets cold again.
I agree that March sucks.
When I made my Twitter account I used the last name “Davidov”
Because that’s what my friend imagined my Russian name to be.
Though now I know there were 3 Dadidovs of note, including one who
Was a Soviet soldier in WWII. He was awarded the Hero of the Soviet Union.
In any case, I really liked Lily’s free-write.
We’re all constraining
Our speech today
2:00 pm I realize
I haven’t spoken
What does that feel like?
On my way to the train
I talk to myself
I say thank you to the driver
In return for the green slip
Of person that let’s me on the El
And then I spend hours trying
To explain grammar which is
Impossible to do without opening
My mouth—grammar is a spoken
Friction was I born to speak?
I feel guilty for feeling these days
Because I feel like I should be doing
This is why I miss driving alone
Wind whipping through cracked windows,
The cold air scratches my temples
Walking my skin
But Justin Bieber is an amazing cliché
He’s a walking cliché
His songs are so silly
This verse is meaningless
I’m uncharacteristically argumentative today
Last night I was characteristically introspective
Achieving the duality that I’ve learned to create
Between opened and closed
Happysad quitloud asleepawake
I think oddly, it’s like the changing of the seasons
Today is hot not wet dampwindy brightgray
I suppose we’re all transitioning
Transitioning days, weeks, months
Seasons-February to March
Melting into each other like rain
On a grey day in Philadelphia
Gone with the Wind, Lawrence of Arabia, Cleopatra…these are all
Epics I have yet to see.
“Poetic” words: feel, sweet death, virgin snow, flowers (roses) swaying in the gentle wind that smells of peonies (that wasn’t a word)
LOVE, HATE, this is what moves us?
Or is it what’s in the middle?
When I got back to my room
Today, my picture frame had
Fallen on my floor—glass
Shattered and scattered.
Shattered and scattered.
Family and friends no longer
Protected. What does this mean?
If you’re in a great mood
With a nice cup of tea
Wearing your favorite sneakers
Why is it still raining outside?
So comforting—the rain,
Your tea, your sneakers
Like a new haircut
And why is it still raining
Who knows what we really want?
Is memory eternal a real thing?
I can think on my own
Thank you very much.
Why did you always make
Me feel like I couldn’t.
I want you to know I’m
Not thankful for anything
That has anything to do
With you and your thoughts.
Give credit where it is do
But don’t when it doesn’t
This is the thing we are
Trying to figure out
Not being free of influence
Not being free of ourselves
I’m totally drained
It’s hard to write and have
To keep so much track of
So many words from so many
Moments at once. The
Ink in my pen is flowing better,
I thought it was broken. This
I have a quota
Too many words
On Sunday something seemed so hopeful about light blue
Not it’s dingy, grayish
And it’s oppressively hot in here
Hard to make friends when all I can think
about is I’m melting
I’d like to have a real conversation though
Rather than fleeting words and chuckles
The wind came up
He set the sprinkler
Near my open window
And my desk soll
When this stream of water
My drawer still does not close
All the way what
Does this mean?
The other day, a wise man told me
Told me that people used to die
They’d walk into the street
And sneeze for the first time
And that’d be it.
There is a fine line between smiling and laughing
When I smile I feel like I am in control
I prefer smiling on the inside
So only we can see
It’s really something to see a big,
Beautiful, tooth-ful smilke fade
Slowly to the straight line our
Mouths are when no one’s
Kind of a perfect word for so many things
What’s the opposite of fleeting
Free night. Free write.
Writing in this manner
Is so freeing, right?
Take the time
Can I overstate that I’m underwhelmed?
Can I undermine + oversee?
At least you understand the upside
But isn’t it the point
I mean it hurts
so isn’t that the point?
Is there something to a
“theory of everything”?
Can the universe, and all beyond
be summed up in a few points?
What’s the point?
The point is that the
answer to “why?”
is always “because.”
Sometimes the answer does not let us understand.
when you ask “why”, i say “why not?”
Must there always be a because?
Because is underwhelming
I’d rather it be overcomplicated
and make me think more and more and more
and stop asking why
A good question is most of the answer
and a good answer makes more questions
and if we look for more things to ask
we know more and be more
So much depends on...
Getting a greenlight to cross 38th street to get to class if you’re running late.
What would have happened if I had told him I loved him earlier?
The last moments of your life are tragic, stunning, intimate
And yet in movies these days we see peoples last moments all the time
we cheer when we see the enemy die.
This in unrelated
But will I ever be that to him?
I think I’ve spent too much of my life looking for a single answer
Answer E makes me doubt myself, but
maybe doubt is good when choosing all of the above.
If I knew what I know now
I’d point to the rainbow and say
I drew that for you
see it’s wrinkling in the rain
would you use the usual colors
or find a new spectrum
Circle the appropriate answer
It’s hard to respect an online space
especially when you want to
Scattered attention makes us feel like
we’re getting more things done.
But really we’re just doing more things badly.
More things, more answers.
There is no right answer.
I choose D. “I don’t know.”
Scattered attention yes-
as if we have all returned physically but
our thoughts are still on their way
hopefully when they arrive, they come slowly
otherwise I’ll need another vacation
Wake up early on purpose
Tired makes an afternoon buzz
Events are heavy with extra momentum
12:00 AM 12:00 AM 12:00 AM
make up your mind, clock!
I hate indecision, at least in respect to technology
You’re supposed to be perfect.
Can I dream between snooze buttons?
Do my grandma’s days move slower or faster?
Which one of us wants to be young again
Sorry I couldn’t read the handwriting!
Bad habits take concentration
She has cried every time I leave.
She is lonely
I want to give her an imaginary friend.
My roommate told us she had
an imaginary friend named Stray Tambolean
She’s an only child
It explains a lot.
Sometimes ____ ____’s like an imaginary world
With imaginary friends
And imaginary lives
The Mystic Myriad Manifold
Maneuvering Moves Me
Mindful of My Misgivings.
What’s the price of a good night?
Do you pay for it the next morning?
Or for long after?
Do you ever stop paying?
I am always paying for something:
$2.00 for coffee creamer
$10.00 for the shuttle
A penance for negative thoughts. Priceless.
What is my life- a commercial
I prefer to imagine life experience to experience,
Memory to memory, memories made in the Mystical magical manifold of my mind.
and now I am making more while the others
seem to slip away fast - I don’t remember if I had
an imaginary friend.
When I lose a memory, what am I paying for?
There was an earthquake
and people died
and I’m sorry, I really am
but I had chicken wings today
I come out of German thinking and speaking in German
Too bad I can’t think and speak German in my German class.
They say you’ve truly mastered a language
when you start dreaming in it
I hope I never dream in java
There is a giant crack in the Earth
The weather gods were playing baseball with the planets.
We got hit the hardest
They are celebrating their home run.
tectonic plate movements
are a geological thing
but I like it better
thinking of the Gods playing
baseball. I think the
Yankee could beat ‘em.
An earthquake melt down tsunami
An apocalyptic trifecta
I don’t know what to do, shake, melt or swim
When it winds back on itself
That’s when the magic happens.
How to get from my “To-Do”
to my “Done?”
I’ve never made a “Done” list.
Maybe I should.
Everyone has a someone
but my someone and I
have other someones at
the moment, and it’s not
like we ever belonged to
each other in the first place.
Does that mean we’re done?
Speaking of done, and to do,
all I keep thinking is what can I do?
I want to do something
to help the shakes and the quakes
explosions and overflowsions
and the broken hearts, and the empty hears
there is so much to do and
so much will never be done
because when we’ve done, aren’t we dead?
Poland is so cold
frozen scorched earth
maybe some closure.
I am not whole
But I am not broken
I miss you, that’s all
compiled by Olivia
You throw around heavy words
like you were the world’s strongest man
I, your boulder
Could easily be a bullet
in my Grandma’s .22
standing on the porch
firing the heads off the ground hogs
She’s small but she’s strong too
maybe stronger than you
You must be delusional
to think that I’ll wait for you
I won’t sway to your beckoning lust
I have to be earned
Why do you want to see me?
You never wanted to know me before.
Until later at least.
Over a Blue Moon, or 3, and a salad
at the Bulldog.
Even then it didn’t feel settled.
Are you surprised I said no?
The one over there might be more impressionable though
I’d take my chances with her
Andy always said he could buy it,
They all drink it,
It all goes down the same
Though Marilyn never digested it well
but I want to get back
to this impressionable girl
are you naïve? self-confident?
maybe it will work,
at least there’s a Blue Moon involved
Right now I feel like Poland, 1939
Trampled and tired
WWII doesnt work in poetry
It’s still cold outside
But the sun burns bright
and my room its warm, bay
windows grab heat like a magnifying glass
“Did you find your Indies, John” Pause. “You will.”
“…I may have sailed past them.”
I felt like a Jewish father at a bar-mitzvah
trying to clap to the beat
like a bad sprinter
reaching just after the gun
as my pre-pubescent son
(he developed late, see)
gets sweaty in the horde
of 13-yr-old girls towering
over him like you tower
over her now, that impressionable Jezebel
I want to
Take you through my telescope
so we can see only what
I want to be
I see HER between us
And rather than compile a list of 365 reasons
why I love you-I
will dwell on the fact
that your list belongs
It’s easier to make not sense than make sense
there is no nonsense however
Living free from reason doesn’t help
make more sense,
Personally, I need reasons, answered for everything
Still asking Why.
There will be no answers, though.
As everything falls from the previous moment’s leap,
a question is never enough
This, of course, is noise
and this s coarse with noise
but I digress—
The squirrels are late
I must record them listening
translated by translated by translate
a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose
translated by a rose is a translated rose
my right ear won’t stop pounding
I’m experiencing an auditory heart attack
soon my eyes will cease to breathe
little lemon yellow
yellow little lemon
lemon lemon little
Our eyes are falling out
But our mouths
are too dumb to notice
Deaf and blind, dumb and willfully ignorant
we marinate in the futility of seeking answers
Deaf, in the sense that
I don’t understand French
and my right is
She has a network of capillaries in her
oozing with tree sap
They teach her to sparkle unconditionally
Fergie sparkling in her
of the power of that game
We play these games
like we both know the
ending of the story, but
don’t want to ruin it for the
“When I first saw her she was regarded as someone finished, lost, broken.
she seemed barely to notice the others abut her.”
Everything is arbitrary
There was no reason for us to be here right now
Time won’t ever be a reason
Everyone is scared of this
But I’m not
Not knowing what
or if I did, would it
be easier to tell you
“I told you,
He told you,
She told you,
They told you,
we told you,
it tells you.”
…you said it.
you think she’s an open book,
but you don’t know what page to turn to,
There’s a resistance
to your insistence
to open our mouths
with our ears still open too
so maybe we should close our eyes then?
That might make this easier.
But only if you insist.
You insist upon reading
the roadmap of veins
drawn on my arm, but
you already know where
they lead and how to get there
Sex is good for the knees.
You see your girlfriend this weekend,
so your knees will feel a lot better.
I don’t want to be reminded of that.
When you do see her
massage her earlobes
and whisper nice things
that will make your lives easier
I put more weight
in your sweet nothings
that in her most naked confessions
Who can say what hasn't been said
who is to say it's worth saying
I can't remember what I've heard from
what I've thought
and that's because I've probably
already thought all the thoughts I'll ever think and
from here on out they'll
be whats rolling around in my
head like pills in an orange bottle
I CAN'T LOVE YOU TILL YOU GIVE UP THIS GODDAMN POETRY!
YOU'LL NEVER MAKE ANY MONEY!
AND YOU'LL DIE, POOR!
I've got nothing to declare,
but you let me into this place anyway
Not quite so friendly though, I might add
Well, he is British...
And that always makes us laugh
He was probably a stand-up chap,
then and I mean that in the comedic sense
because sometimes I like to speak in puns
and sometimes write haikus
Linen suits mark repetition
with wrinkles, meditation on movement and stillness
The boredom splits mountains,
opening wide spans between moments.
We're trying not to try
but art is not fair
so we fail
and give conscious explanations
I'm riding a unicycle down
the line between boredom and
hunger, looking for a helmet
Slouching tired in my chair,
a smell is wafting through the air
coffee bean and
dirt. I like that.
And then it just went from there
nobody here hey anything they
really need to say and yet
we search through our minds
for something that others might find
Does it mean that I'm really ignorant if I still don't know what the hell is going on in Egypt???
“So do you take that for epilepsy or....?”
The Lone Rider of Santa Fe?
Careful the beverage you're about to enjoy
is extremely hot
Fasten your seat belt
Mind the gap
Look Both Ways
Fill in the bubbles
One month later, have you failed yet?
I've failed miserably.
Fallen so far off the path, it seems like I always forget,
everyday I think “tomorrow.”
We know not how to make them, but it's hard to let (go)
of a hope that one day there will be no failure.
begun begone beg big brag
belie below bestow beside
bright brittle brown brick-brack
bristle brustle hustle
We beat our spoons
against the sides of
our bowls. In protest
We spoon our sides
our bowls beat
I just got a box
of Special K Yogurt & Berry.
I went with Kashi flakes & berries
it made me feel good about myself
I think British (English? Does that include Scottish, Welsh, Irish—OK, it does)
food leaves much to be desired, especially breakfast.
There were two extremes:
Muesli and yoghurt, or
3 different kinds of meat.
Everyone was shocked when all I ordered was 2 eggs & toast
Wasps and birds
carry harsh louds
Almost as many as
Frogs & toads
I'm not very tired yet, but it's only Monday.
Spiraling into the normal pattern is inevitable.
The spiral continues until, May?
But what happens after that?
That's going to be new. I'm not scared though.
Is there anything redemptive about New Jersey?
besides walt whitman and william carlos williams
and why does it inspire so many w's
Snapping jaws snag lips on hooks,
lines, swirling in eddies,
rush to straining bow
It's colloquial, isn't it?
Though the word itself
Abbreviate should be
shorter, but who
am I to say?
I'll write short
lines; cuz I like
how the page
Stanza to stanza
line to line
verse to verse
page to page
He told me it's not dead yet,
but I might want to start planning
Purple, royal hue
what is it about Monday?
That kings sit purple
A bizarre chance occurrence
spun threads between kingdoms:
schemes grew elaborate, binding lives and hues.
We are living in exphrastic space,
in hidden messages—
we hate them.
we destroy consumer capitalism.
I have tried to create disconnections
between A and B, a self-fulfilling prophecy
I write my own horoscopes
I never knew that the abominable snowman is supposed to be a yeti
But I guess that makes sense...
Little Rahm likes the new heater in the tank
Walt Whitman, Dick Whitman...
Is that ironic?
is it something I keep in my bedroom,
hidden safely under my bed?
Why does light improve my mood when outside & upset
me in doors?
how can I stop myself from fucking
it up again?
why does everything always fail to
live up to expectations?
Lots of questions today.
We just talked about Existentialism in my German class today.
“Existentiulismus” How can anyone have that roll off your tongue naturally?
Is there a connection?
Are we having class next week?
Will we keep this up forever?
today has more shortlines
If I ask a question about asking a question, does that make
A Fling ends before Fling
A self-professed open end
The weather is combating my mood.
even minor changes
If I could combine the words ennui, apathy, & overwhelmed
I could sum up impending graduation
If only I had the words.
I still find it hard to take anything seriously
I wonder, at what age do you learn that skill.
I’m ok for now being unserious
And I hope it never changes.
can’t think of anything to say
i’ll probably edit this out later
for being stupid and insubstantial
Why did he have to say “Dream Weaver”?
Now that lame song is stuck in my head.
I have nothing profound to say today
Is this the 11th question?
Was that rhetorical?
I used to be mortally afraid of the
number 13. Is this the 13th question?
you should be able
to buy a google
that had search results
based on hilariousness
I don’t get why hotels skip the
13th floor – if you’re on the 14th
Suddenly the floor dropped out
and when you were there
We ate Bread and meat and
all the soap in the cupboard
and our mouths couldn’t stay clean
Because you were too filthy
and you were too Good.
Why is there always doubt in my stomache?
it pooles at the bottom
and seeps through my pores
I wonder if any one can see the ink
spilling from my belly button
hooked-on-phonic is like
reading is an extraction
I wish I could read because
I wanted to, not
Because I had to.
My gmail page thinks my e-mails suggest
Due Diligence Analysis
Is google mocking me?
The warm weather is weighing heavily on
humidity tugs at my eyelids
would be nice to go lay in the grass
and forget the other things weighing me down
my gmail page also suggests due diligence analysis
I’m not even sure what that means
it also suggests I might need friends
I always loved Chase Utley, but now I’m not so sure
I like Roy Hallady more, but just in a “just friends” way =)
I once lived a lie
I told my friend that Chase Utley and I were having an affair
He believed me for four months.
Apparently he told this to people when he was drunk at a party.
See, these are the trivial thoughts flowing through my mind today.
Does this count as annoying?
I heard your name screamed.
I wanted to stop and look.
But I kept walking.
Why do I care about someone
I shouldn’t care about
I care so much about everyone
but usually from a distance,
it’s very easy to get attached
if I care too much, and
Caring is a burden
It’s safer to be distant
my work always reflects what I am not:
Photographs: neat & tidy
Poetry: distant, ambivalent, unemotional.
4pm wake up call, I’m always waiting for you.
Showed that I care
Because she is suffering, I’m sure (I would be)
And I do not “care” for her (euphemism)
But no one deserves such suffering
I try not to care but always end up
worrying. caring about everyone else
but what about myself? rarely
Go on take the money and run
Am I too obsessed with questions?
Well, that’s number 20.
Ok. enough now.
I’ve chosen not to be
Anonymous apparently. My
pen is too loud to protect
my identity. But why would
we want to remain unknown?
It’s a different kind of MILF
when our mother gets hotter
It’s even more different
Someone was skipped
The pad cycles on
I guess he is a ghost writer
For this round.
we write lone lines,
separating them so we can see
what they’d look like as
if they were strangers
This is kind of Emersonian
We’re alone among many
On our own in the masses
I want to lay down now
dreaming of dreaming
Thirteen minutes! Ahh!
The freedom of an hour between classes. What do we do with it?
We can’t do things with our time –
it doesn’t belong to us.
I choose to think we belong to it
and it does things to us
because minute to minute
we have to option to jump
up and run away with a stolen
credit card and a ham sandwich
but we never do
does the choice actually exist?
Question 21. Sorry.