February 2012
1 post
Conglomeration of Dreams
A triumph! Though I missed the bus and lost my bags, I found a map of dreams on a seat in the train. Softly you came, dressed in sea, moon, enchanting mountains, beckoning me to sudden sleep. First Avenue, Twin Peaks, Missouri. Little blue house with no roof, dinner table constructed of my old books. We can’t help the change, we thought, sometimes things get strange. Tucked in a sleeping...
January 2012
1 post
seaaaa
it’s still light for awhile, the sea is swimming gently near a northern isle- ships dock and go back out again. oh! great russian seaport! your wharves so perfectly constructed! it is you that marks the precipice of my endeavors! to travel through light, to comfort the universe with a tongue so polite! the breeze floats in up my sleeves, the cracks between my teeth, it is the salt i taste...
December 2011
1 post
cold mountain
Upwards, somewhere near the cold mountain, a moon, a fawn, an indistinguishable something. Our train winds around the coast, i try to empty the sea from my pant pockets and coat. A reindeer pendant is pinned to my lapel, across the aisle a man is thinking about a haircut he had in the past, crooked curtains across his forehead, pull them shut and his mind is lost. I tug the scarf around my...
Lovebug (St. Petersburg)
I’ve moved to the far end of Russia- the one way on the other side of the other. It’s here I’ve found what had been bothering me then-a freckle of a larger whole constructed of toothpicks and glue that the kids didn’t eat- When I reached across your lap and tapped the shoulder of the ghost you were so closely holding. He was the blanket that covered you to your collar...
November 2011
8 posts
Lament (re-post)
another feeling betrays this passing season, the development of human dentition, the decline of the soviet union, i’ll write a book about them all and call it winter. i’ve the sea chained to my pocket watch, when it crests it looks like men with white mustaches trying to break the surface. leave em’ to the whales. leave em’ to the jellyfish and sharks and coral. i’ve no use for them, for apples...
Sea-sick
Oleena laying on a towel near the wet of the water; let’s go swimming, just you and me. each continent is actually an enormous ship. life is just learning how to deal with being sea-sick.
laps
i stand to take a delicate position- your lap is only the surface area your legs create when you sit down somewhere. don’t tell me that’s something that you knew, i already know.
ghosts-1,2,3,4.
listless wishes on white evenings hidden in the pockets of winter coats stitched and restitched, lined and re-lined with leaves and twigs and whatever i could find. the quiet conversations in different corners of different rooms leaves me blue around the edges, yet i patch the sky with limbs i hide, soak the snow with tales i tie to memories created in the most mysterious parts of my mind. ...
-
I can’t write good poetry anymore, but, when it returns, those who still read will hopefully be rewarded.
anywhere-
sylvia said if we get hungry, we can just peel the freckles off her face; it’s been done, i thought, by someone somewhere, but okay. in her dress she led the way, i forgot where we were going but i knew it was somewhere under the moon and somewhere not where we were- good enough, i thought, as i ran to catch up to tap her on her left shoulder and then shift quickly to her right- it gets her...
twenty-three
in high school i used to brush my hair to the left but now i brush it to the right-i didn’t know what i was doing back then- i used to smoke enough pot to make me not want to do anything else, and then stop- if life at the age of twenty-three is just foreshadowing for life at the age of twenty-four, then i can’t wait to celebrate in 357 days- someone will get me a cake, someone will...
October 2011
4 posts
White Nights;
White nights are just outside. It should only be weeks now- maybe days- before the letter arrives. The one you said you’d write when the time felt right. I haven’t heard since July, how are you feeling? Are you feeling alright? That pain in your neck, did that go away? The steps to my den are covered in salt. I slipped and nearly fell, still, in the light of the night. The floral...
a day
october 9, autumn something, up at the hem of dawn, sylvia, blissful young fawn draping blankets over a cheek and jaw, rosy; not; or pale and clawed from kitten claws. make tea in pot-check-honey and milk-check-eggs sunny side up like how we made love between dusk and dawn-
the school is a bit of a walk with oxfords on, sylvia drags along struggling with her slip, mumbling about the underwear...
the sky is out
the ants in the sidewalk cracks, the frogs that swallow firecrackers, let’s give them all proper burials- no one deserves what they deserve, luck is a good meal and sex afterwards, that’s all. you tried to tell me otherwise and i just smiled and put my hands in the pockets of my pants- the sky is out tonight, hey look, the sky is out tonight.
pumpkins
your hairs still orange, sylvia, that’s a good thing if you want it to be, i say it is. let’s walk to the forest and pretend that’s all there is-i just want to feel good, and i just want you to feel better.
September 2011
2 posts
childrens poem
fall is here, so swift and so true, i tripped on a stick that i thought you threw- my mother she cried on the fourth of july when my brother fell off a lawn chair and died- his name was new hampshire and he layed in the pasture as we all jumped around hushing our laughter, oh new hampshire new hampshire you’re lying, you’re lying! you’re not dead but it’s true, surely...
everybody is leaving town
lookout, someone calls, the sky is swinging around-low, low, low-the stars are in my hair and eyes and a bird picks them from my brow
no one is around, everyone has either left town or burrowed underground-
i look through the underwear drawers of all the abandoned dressers of all the vacant women- wait, no i don’t.
August 2011
1 post
before she left-
anna slept there in her envelope of air, i pushed my shoes under the bed and tucked my head softly into her neck, i don’t really remember the rest.
July 2011
9 posts
Excerpt from Existence of Peas.
Alex, breathing, but not conscious of anything, not even of his existence, looked down at his knees. “Knees,” he muttered, as if he was seeing them for the first time and inventing a name for them. “Ankles, heel, feet, toes.” Alex began re-inventing his body. “Thighs, penis, hips, stomach, belly button, lint? Chest, armpits, arms, neck, head, face.” He named them all. He invented the words...
Novella
I am officially 5,500 words into my novella. This is the most excited I’ve been about a project. I’ve started countless short novels before, but I usually abandon them after 1,000-2,000 words, so I have great hope for this one. I’ve posted the unedited versions of the first bits of the novel, but I won’t be posting anything (maybe a few short paragraphs here and there)...
The Existence of Peas - (continued - read the rest...
Alexander sat on his grass for a little while longer and watched ants march around his stretched legs. When he finally realized that he was creating much more work for these small ants, he withdrew his legs close to his body and held them tight with his hands. The ants seemed thankful.
After watching the ants a little while longer, he bent down and put his face inches from them so...
Haiku
You often kissed me in front of your parents and that always felt weird.
Christmas Miracles!
Marcus just moved to the city. On the eve of Christmas Eve he tore a hole in the sweater he was wearing which was actually the Christmas gift he bought for his brother. The sweater caught on a nail in a doorway in some girls house on some downtown street and tore quite noticeably down the right sleeve. “That’s a shame,” was the only thought Marcus had on the happening. Christmas day exchanging...
The Existence of Peas - Part 1-3 (unedited)
“The Magpie robin,” thought Alexander, “Now that’s a magnificent bird.” After reflecting on that last thought and deeming it a satisfactory thought to be had at that current time, at that exact location where he had it and forever will be having it in infinity, Alexander went on, “Ann’s Hummingbird, also a splendid creature. I’d like to meet this Anna to appraise her beauty and determine whether...
sneeze
it is wednesday on the peninsula, still surrounded by water, still laughing like rolling thunder- ha ha ha, the breeze calms me under the umbrella of my allergies, i sneeze and the whole world is startled, not necessarily by my sneeze, but by the continual realization of the existence of everyone and thing, but at least one or two are only startled by my sneeze and nothing else.
thoughts on from a feathered mattress
the forest is outside my window, when I’m out of mind I address the trees in such a cordial manner that they can’t help but blush a little- have you ever seen a tree blush? it’s on someones list somewhere of things to see before they die. this morning i woke up and made tea, but simultaneously i was trying to live a different life in my head, one where i was waking up and...
good-bye
i, amongst the tumult of summer, resign myself to air conditioning and swimming holes- hello, until fall, hello!
June 2011
2 posts
ghosts
we’re all sleepy, we won’t sleep everyone’s mattress is everyone elses to share be nice to your neighbors, let them swim in your pool you were so pretty, Sylvia, before you cut your hair.
driving home the sky accelerates, and the clouds...
little longings; the ants are trapped in my mustache forever- they do not try to escape, i would let them go if they wished, as i let you go, when you wished- but, they remain silent, content, at ease, etc. longings like, sitting in the treetops trying to catch birds as they fly past- i’m never quick enough, but i get a good glimpse of the sky and i always pack a lunch, so really,...
May 2011
5 posts
Spring In 9 Parts
1. swimming near lagoons, youth and you backstroking light, sleep with worry, spring! 2. moonface’d worrying, dreams are never what you make of them, so shut up and sleep. 3. a sea full of blue, chlorine stains your teeth and tongue an awful hue- we still kiss like we ought to. 4. awaken before the morning comes, quick! quicker or you’ll miss it! aww, too late, you missed it. 5. i...
Anonymous asked: who is margaret?
things
the awning groves above, pre-disposed, yawning- upstream, margaret steps into sea stained skin and beckons me forth- a crescendoing spring of ephemeral bliss- these things, like most, i miss.
Make of This What You Will
It wasn’t upon entering the ballroom that I felt an instant surge of loneliness; but rather upon entering a crowd of familiar faces that I felt instantly on guard, and at the same time, defenseless. It is so, as I have conditioned myself in such a manner, that I retreat into a particular character while surrounded in rooms full of people. That character has many perceptive inclinations that...
daniell in the sea
daniell in the sea, often you whisper to me, the lisping wishes of a life without conviction, so much i see, too much to be, if the revolution comes tonight, you will surely mask its sounds with violins and whimpers- like a pillow o’er my head, restlessness manifests what is to be said, don’t wake me, for any reason, by any means, until the trifles of tomorrow become springing leaves...
April 2011
5 posts
moonlighting
do you not trust, my dreary eye’d companion, the flitting moon? its pale eyes and pallid hues? the way it blankets you, keeps you warm and blue? i do, i say, as i brush the sky from your hair, face and everything.
again and again and again and again and
brother, how you stutt-stutter- when on the mouth we kissed, in a dream, that is, atop our stump of a family tree, sister and me, lilacs pouring through her teeth sprouting young love atop her tongue and cheeks; annie, do you still dream? of mother mariner? of father the saboteur? who left you in bed with sheets untucked, book unread, lips pouting red? boys now begging to carry your books to...
Plea from a Silly Boy
Eleanor, I do miss the waves that lap the shore near Pt. Poinsettia, the flowers that grow and die quickly in the sand, the infinite lines I drew on your hands, but I am writing in regards to that one awful day-the one I wish I could forget, but the sight of a sail boat or sand crested peak only heighten the memories for me. I know it’s been months now since I’ve written or phoned, but...
earnest earnings
Walk and shake your teeth at me, when you were seventeen dancing on the mezzanine, how excited! how delighted! your mouth an auditorium of mockery as you spit and slung your tongue at me! like colonies of bees, my thoughts did bumble and buzz on the walk back home that night, images of you near my bedside, near my abdomen and the alcove in my living room-the streetlights seemed to perspire and...
else
intuitively rest, rub your stomach- piss your pants- sleep in foliage- avoid stepping on ants - walk with your hands- do something else with everyone else, or else.
March 2011
1 post
lazy poem
o’er the depot trains stop and start- E. stumbles off, neck scarved, gestures wrought, tumbling suitcases and such- she addresses her arm to mine as we walk, walk out near knolls of chattering grass that stand still while we pass- how generous, courteous, etc. chivalry, or something like it; sea is rough, still blue, who knew, not i, or you, ships still sail in habitual motion, salt...
February 2011
2 posts
winter
afternoon, wintery eyes, snow falls, sometimes, that is, such as other things- lo v e less- for instance- met near mattresses underwater, floating feathers which i plucked from sesame seed pores i wished to devour- enjoy your existence of atoms and etcetera, try to smell nice all the time, like flowers or the moon- we waaaaaaaalk near trees that sneeze their leaves onto our nested hair; birds...
snow, snow, snow, oh snow-
and before you’re home, riptide or ragged clothes, dress the limbs your tooths and spine, let me sleep craned neck alone, call me call me call me, don’t- things are worse than some better- wake up and smile, dress for the weather.
January 2011
5 posts
Follow my girlfriends music tumblr!
Hey! I haven’t been posting any poetry lately as I haven’t been writing, but I thought I would post a link to my girlfriends new music tumblr page for you guys to check out and follow. Please give it a look and give her a listen.
http://a-year-at-sea.tumblr.com/
Trinkets of Such and Such Existence. [finished]
Affable, amiable, under railways we cultivate presentiments to adorn our loneliness with-Smile, we will, awaiting a moment filled with other new moments, the ephemeral joys of now and always, filled with a memory conjured in tents as children, swinging lanterns pallid in the moonlight lit with laughable dispositions to keep the future at bay, projecting ourselves seaward as we swam in sleep,...
Anonymous asked: How exactly do you write your poetry? Does it just pop into your mind or do you have to buckle down once in a while and sort of force yourself to ooze great poetry onto paper?
feels.
sightly moments, ones through fish-eyed lenses you see bodies avidly carouseling around square blocks near your downtown apartment-moving slightly to the left, the right, to avoid streetlights, signs, meters, etc.-all this through your 3rd story window, too afraid to participate in the hustle and bustle, too afraid to catch a bus or ride your bike, afraid you’ll interrupt the perpetual...
Emily, E! Rest and Sleep!
and i think i’d like you, well, well enough-i ought to, at least-i mean, i sought you out, i mean, out near the russian border, out near the ribbon tied elk, out near the hills made of feathersssss-how they blew about when no one was watching, especially not us, “Well, we are!”, as we stomped in our galoshes, as we joyously outgrew our quietest dispositions-the ones we’d...
December 2010
5 posts
and you and you and you!
Margaret and her pale young gentleman, the one with only four toes and scarves that choked his throat. He barely knew the geography of her stomach as I know the geography of her southernmost ports; S.S. something, S.S. something else- He spoke in tongues, or with his tongue, which I guess doesn’t make him much different than me or anyone, but his tongue was an ugly one-like an Indian rug or tree...
a year at sea - kristen korkowski
More new music...
other things.
i sit, half steeped in a pool of sugar and honey, salty seas, canary yellow ships, lukewarm bathtub water, m is for moon, e for explosion-other things and other things compose somethings, you know-measurable fits, tablespoons of loneliness, half cups of metaphysics-cheeks turn blue, mine probably too, cross’d legs on counter- tops and end tables and so on-olive kettle boils and we drink...