"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

You won't even know I'm gone

painting by Adam Lupton
The chair next to you will still be full,
another body and a different mind,

a wire that stretched out to trip you,
trick you and keep you captivated

even though the future is impossible.
The waves that pulse through your brain

tell you things you don't want to hear -
things you can't bear to know are true -

the rules to a game you could never win
once the deck has been stacked so high.

And every day apart will feel empty,
and every day together will be worse,

a choice between pulling the arrow out
and letting it stay, blood and skin festering,

the phone ringing nightly - distant humming
of molecules as the temperature drops,

and the nightly summer rains will start snowing,
and the cold could snap July clean in half.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Blu, Vanity

Thursday, November 14, 2013

On flights of arrows, sharper than we'd been led to believe

painting by Brad Phillips
Romance is not a
car crash, but a natural
disaster - you seep
into my brain and
poison all the ground,

and when poured into
the form of a cigarette,
you would be sweeter
than nicotine, but
just as cancerous.

From the most recent decomP, an excellent poem from Will Arbery.

And here, my friend Zach absolutely kills it.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Skyzoo, The Definitive Prayer