Wisdom to know our family’s story, Vision to seek the future before us,
Gall to speak with your heartstrings,
Resolve to continue moving forward,
Resilience to stand tall on your feet.
My boots left in Ukraine. Retrieved 10/13/25. Alden 39628H Color 8 Shell Cordovan SZ13
I walked up to the watchtower
Watchers, and other beings squirrels, crows, lead-speeders there was water all around and todays. so many todays. I cried so hard today wondering if you would watch over me.
You believe me
I know that you believe me so you took me through it again the worst bombing in Ukraine so far you put it to me, and I showed you as much as I could what I saw.
The trace of something among cool nights
In the periphery five-thousand crows and werewolves and witches beheld the corner of my eye I wonder where you are ten years ago do you want to be here now with me?
The fountain
I’m here, it’s quiet now like you might never see me again without you, I’m praying wondering if anybody hears me I’m smoking cigarettes today and I’m sorry, just feeling pathetic isn’t enough sometimes. prayers of a kiss. prayers of hearing, “I love you.” again and again.
Dreams of kissing you
What if we met across the street? can you pretend you’ve never seen me before? the lights might flicker, and I’ll put out the last cigarette I’ll ever have. not too many birds awake tonight. I asked them to bring you words from me. I’m afraid they didn’t make it to you. but I’m here, I’m with you and each chirp is a message that I want you to hear, “I love you,” and the clambering car exhausts are saying, “I’m sorry”, if I ruined everything I’d never be the same. and I’d never see you again. listen for me.
I get it, darling (bound foot)
I’m sore. no reason to torture each other. . . . there is no context so vapid there is no complex to this derision— I’m going to start using big childish words because you’re not here for me to salivate onto. I’m angry that I have to try to inherit your emotionality from lyrics to ask you to—anything. . . . . before forgone and instrumental
Waking up
I can’t remember when I woke up— the day I screamed at the crows for GOD I saw your name, will you tell me you’ve always loved me? will you lie through your teeth? I remember the first time in my old grand-cherokee do you remember when I couldn’t let you in to my step-father’s house? you were locked out. I brought a pillow and blankets, and Starbucks the very next morning, and I loved you
and I’ll love you always.
If you’ll tell me
If you’ll tell me once that you love me and I never have to hear it again never again. everyday you have to remind me you said it
Waterfalls
Ripples of lace and the little foot stomps calvary lances, the crashing from the center of your bodice, your hips bent and carrying the waters come lapping to pools rushes to the hands crashing and paddling, pounding the surface of our palmistry, reading little touches: five toes. ten toes. thirty toes. forty toes. seventy toes and magpie’s feet.
Doll-face
Your strings tied to the Maker’s hands beautiful doll, one of many to come only you, you, you magnificent instrument of strings and maleficent artifice, don it. let me bring you to life
I wish I told you how beautiful you are
I was so hurt, so crushed and your lips I miss you they hurt so much that’s why I quit telling you I’m not a poet anymore you’re gorgeous I don’t think I have anything left to write that’s as beautiful as you are so I stare at your picture like it’s a promise
The mermaid
Climb up the waterfalls,
warm and timid,
on my cheeks
swim,
swim timidly in the pools
at the bottom of the
of it all
so you know who I am
and I’ll
know
forever who you are
Tip-toe
Once you tip-toed around the corner of the ballroom and I saw you between the crystal. we waited for eternity together we waited for the sunlight glinting betwixt two flutes, a tear on your eye, a tear of light that gave two answers. you’d already know if you told me, but I haven’t asked you yet.
Forest fires
Forest fire smoke in the air, hold onto me if you don’t see that I’ll run into the forest to find you, to see you again. . . you’re right here with me and I love you through all the flames and the smolder of ash adjourned. choke on my hand as it comes for us, we’re dead to each other
Begging you
I didn’t cry before last year didn’t cry in Ukraine didn’t cry when my brother passed away until Tennessee.
but I cried when I told you that I saw your name in red ink.
and I cried when I begged you to come upstairs with me.
I’m thinking about all these things.
Scars fade tonight
without time for the world without asking the world
without time and it’s fluorescent light and lightning bugs crushed beneath cordovan and loving you squeezed underneath a mountain of wreckage of words I give to say I hurt it hurts you I hurt but not when
I love you.
July 4th, 2024
Brooklyn homeless shelter
Crying to “Forgot About Dre” thinking I’ll be able to provide for my family with groceries
You don’t love that man
That tortured soul what is GOD, does he know he knew I know he knew a year before the war that nothing’s real. . . . being brutally raped by soldiers being hunted and shot
let alone my pain. what is my pain? that none of it is more real than the gravestones
what is real to him?
Portland public housing
Sewer water comes through the kitchen sink \ comes up through my nose don’t come over, Donna is my grandmother’s name my grandmother sleeps outside my second story window she cries in the rain someone stomped on her leg in the middle of the night I dried her blankets yesterday brought her two white claws and a giant peach and a shower curtain, screams at night, have to keep the windows open dreams of holding my baby
Little kisses
I want to brush
the nape of your neck
with little kisses
because there aren’t enough
I love you’s
to give
you
all
at once
Do you ever think of me
Do you ever think of me when you’re petting Zorro? it’s often understated when given to the caretaking of a very large human that he needs pets too.
I love you this morning
and I want you. I haven’t loved you so little in months. . . so little that I feel like risking it all to tell you again. waiting hurts, I don’t sleep well anymore. I think about you day and night. I want to be with you.
Hapless in love
As I try to reignite this kindling flame / it asks too much of the tongue do you feel me at all / feel me tonight on your breath
9/26/25
July 2nd, 2024
Chrys-an-the-mum
In New Delhi, in Europe, my father’s backyard, my generation is sprouting, growing at misinterpretation and mistakes to kill my mistakes were your stakes in the heirlooms tomatoes, four or five times is the baker’s three
The LV
If The Mother believes that I sold it, I hate both of you witches. I must have slept-walked it into a trash can. I am not kidding.
Innana
It wasn’t in safety / half of my mind knew I could pull out.
I knew something that cannot be, something that cannot die.
My anger is disabling
My disability is sewer water (coming through)
some good advice is all I needed to sell my manhood (my gold)
to get my boots
to break your arm to get my watch
The eye of a needle
Can a rich man get to heaven— may he continually double down
All’s well that ends well
So we didn’t kiss for a decade ten years 10 years. and I give her a kiss, bang! first oral herpes outbreak and I take pride, give this to me, I take pride in dying with the woman who gives me oral herpes. (2nd outbreak 10/21/25)
Blackout
Bub do you . no. do no. c’mere. do you wanna blackout at least thirty times in our life.
Money-talks
Close your ear to the cry of the poor, call out and do not be answered.
That’s life
Singing karaoke, “That’s Life” out of The Bronx shelter.
Salutary [5] (the drunk)
Be pouring, pouring I’m pouring we’re pouring I wonder when the rains will come.
Sandstone [4] (the obsessive)
Wear me wear me out I’m sweating my edges away I’m sanding myself to be yours.
Lines [3] (the business)
Do you see these bands these lines in the sand your toes and a little ring is it jasper? it’s twirling
Creation [2] (the mommy)
Was movement first movement she moved as the waters he moved on the surface of the waters.
The commodore [1] (the leader)
Loudness, guns, and I saw the color purple.
Night song 10/4/25 (8/13/25)
Your song, “The Day (We Fell in Love)” is the first sunlight I’ve had in (4) days. I laid on the bed cradling a bottle of nitrous and I begged that She wouldn’t give me a headache, or make me throw up in the shower. I begged that I could listen to the damned song and believe that you love me. She lets me drink, and I hate it still. I haven’t had cocaine in two months. I was snorting two grams every month. why in GOD’s name would she have me drink. Teresa’s drinking again today. I had four days, four days of making the bed, of making breakfast, heading to the gym praying to meet you. I couldn’t cry, so I screamed. I asked her not to speak to me when she’s drinking. she smiled like a witchy drunk, and I can’t remember what she said. my childhood portrait flew off the wall and shattered. my child is shattered. you know how I love you, right? you know. She knows. but She wonders how I can write beauty and go to live in public housing. if you won’t write something lovely to me, something for hope, for beauty, for reason, for sweetness or for parenthood— remember the salt, salt of the earth—I’m learning Bukowski for you, again.
Elderberries
I was a honeybee, I think maybe for a second, at least and I beheld something so beautiful. she was in white, I think no, she was full of berries— she was full of light. she was full of stardust, I wonder. goddess knows.
Qualifications
1. I have never screamed at a woman (besides my own mother). Confirmed by FBI. ✓ [the long nine] - it doesn’t imply that I’m fighting any harder for you.
a katt’s love
when words don’t matter, it’s not the nine-tails
engagement.
I wait along the power line
Fullness of energy and denounced ravaging to quiet itself along power lines. I equestrian, I symposium.
tourniquets
and an end to soliloquy. solidarity. solidity. sequestering notions
of everlasting and a kitten owed in full. forever.
The rear admiral
It’s a lady? it’s a lady. a lady?
guns screaming beside a golden eagle and a bald one.
we are the captains of our own ships. our own crews of work-yards, work-horses, ideas.
we do not scream, jump on. jump. jump ship: WHOMEVER. SCREAMS. to swim back FIRST. to FIRST. a lady FIRST. ? FIRST. FIRST. a bald eagle [rules of enragement]
born of innocence, why? she spells herself out. himself will still scream second. NOW. LEAVE.
Your sky
Sky from a ship, autumn leaves burning christening chimes and buckets.
21st
An hour-forty to sing Sinatra I’ll stand there holding the mic like I have a broken finger and [sic]. . . look, in seven years, I want four children under five years old. I didn’t even want to feel anything. and I don’t, thank god. I didn’t expect to feel this way before I met you.
Tippling
Two tadpoles tippling under a toadstool. eighteen toads were oh so jealous. “how’d we get here?” “asking would only make us prouder.”
Smile for a dime
My Father used to sell my soul for a dime, I’d owe him one if he caught me not smiling. he owes me one.
I told my therapist
I told her over the phone before I gave up,
“help me work seventy-four hours per week.”
The rings
There may be something more important than either of us, than our family, that I am beholden to.
42nd
I’ve thought about things for sixteen months. . I’m pretty sure that if you don’t read THE LIONESS I’m going to have to refuse to be with you. We, the FBI and I, after much deliberation, have concluded [and are continually in deliberation] that we will raise a President of the United States of America:
1. I asked to marry one (and that’s what you get).
^><^
“I needed you to just know.” - lady
no lady has just known:
a. I need to be snuggled b. lay me on your lap c. pet my head
IS THIS UNDERSTOOD? - is this cute to you? asian parentage.
A. Needs to be snuggled. 1. lay me on your lap. 2. pet my head.
“Right brained” or “left brained”
Are you right or left brained?
only the aching. . .
Coherent—cohesive
I’m here for you, I’m there for us
going bonkers by elevens
22,33,45
Did you love to know
Everything! some- times 10,000 scientific facts cancel out— but every other— but every other google-able answer is irrelevant.
WOOT
and who? who who am I!
THE MAGPIE
MAGIX
There are thirteen devilish trades eight without
triceratops and radishes six trunks full of fruitcake and three, honeybee, honeybee, honeybee ! !
The Mags
Suspicious, very suspicious. she left to Russia to elope with an oligarch[’s son] post-war. . . au’voir
[6 weeks later]
. . . Vlad has a friend in NY. ——>
My baby girl
She failed calculus (daddy couldn’t take her tests for her) but she found her coding himbo after all. . . daddy’s now wishing he asked for more favorable terms on the loan.
Holy cow
. . .
SIX? and her husband’s running as a shoe-in. Albany I heard. this isn’t even fair. he owns a golf course for God’s sake. her book royalties. . . JUST SHUT UP
^**^ The admiration
Psychopaths reproduce themselves at a high rate. we will have at least one wrestler and two pitchers.
we need to see what I can do as a wrestler.
also, please place utensils in
its left hand.
Aphorisms:
“Wear it.” ”Make greatness a matter of routine.” “Don’t blow it.”
Caveats:
My father turned me in to the police for smoking marijuana on the eve of the draft.
I didn’t listen to the overweight Texas Rangers athletic trainer: “You know you don’t need to do everything we write down.” (another injury)
Punishments:
Twenty pull-ups and a kiss on the cheek. Good-morning workout with DAD. I’ll pick you up.
Maxims:
FBI OPERATIONS FORMATTING — 1890s-1970s
- Prerequisite factors bolded. - Actionable and instructional statements underlined.
* Letters indicate importance of factor. * Numbers indicate order of execution.
Muklanovich-BrillIvy League MO
- 13-15 years old. - Wants an athletic scholarship to an Ivy League school. - Has 4.0, on track to graduate with associate’s degree. - Needs to win the election. . .
A.Youngest is so jealous, she needs her own buttons.
1. Youngest is first to be picked up from school. 2. Allow at least fifteen minutes to find big Sister. . .
Screen-time
A.The sciences are the most interesting topics in the known universe. 1. Reward enrichment of the mind with snack or dessert trays. 2. Avoid giving treats to losers.
B. There is strict differentiation between enrichment and gaming. 1. [debatable #] number of gaming hours per day until [debatable #] grade summer.
Testosterone, Health, and other P.E.D.’s
There is a critical differentiation made between pure testosterone and other performance enhancing substances which are found in scientific studies and anecdotal experience to not satisfy an intelligent and calculated risk-benefit thought process.
Amateur athletes playing sports such as baseball, being “skill-dominant”, are not as likely to dramatically benefit from testosterone as athletes striving for elite performance in certain other sports. Developmental curves vary from sport to sport and athlete to athlete based on a maximization of athleticism and skill.
A. Elite pitchers tend to maximize performance at around twenty-seven years of age and ideally will pitch into their mid to late thirties. 1. It is unnecessary for high-school age professional baseball prospects to use testosterone.
B.
Teenagers are required to enjoy their lives
Work smart, not hard: I put an incredible amount of effort in that (along with many extraneous factors) was not well-suited. I detonated in my twenties with all of the frustration at my efforts.
A. Peaceful and relaxed household ^><^ 1. Consider implementing ideas such as “focus hours”. 2. We will have a basement or Tough-Shed as a music practice room.
The natural limits of health conscious parenthood
Some parents might hold concerns over such asinine things as the appearance of hypertension in their school-aged offspring. I maintain the argument that it is typically the saltiness of the mothers who are not the favorite chefs in their household that presents the greatest risk to any family. There will be K-Pop ramen noodles.
1. Father makes their current favorite color at any moment (this may be via telepathic prompting or direct communication).
The young heart
“I want it today.” “you’ll have it tomorrow,” says the old-soul. She knows what she said. he knows what he wants.
Miraculously clean house
Background: by nine years old, I was with my father doing my own cleaning. Prior to this, my mother would encourage me to leave messes behind myself by happily cleaning up after me.
We will have five children.
A. We will bear down upon messiness starting at age 5. B. Punishments for leaving messes will begin around age 6. 1. Take away devices for (x+1) hours. 2. “Go to your room” 3. Cancel future play date.
Brain health and injury
A. Impact sports such as football (aside from thequarterback position) and MMA are likely to have a negative effect on lifetime mental health due to brain injury over time even in the absence of concussions that are medically diagnosable.
1. Quarterbacking requires a heavy set of knowledge and skill at an early age even when compared to baseball. 2. Weekly lessons should be encouraged and sought immediately upon interest.
Churchgoing
Public service is practically requisite for a high-level college resume. We have both been and are continuing to be helped by people who believe that helping people is an important driver of a whole and healthy life. I agree, and would like to foster an attitude in our family that seeks to incorporate public service into our everyday lives.
A. Growing up, I had a very apparent attitude of helpfulness, gratitude and goodwill towards others.
1. Claiming credit for public service is necessary.
The King is the Slave, the Queen is the Slave
I am coming around to the realization that for the first half of the time we will spend raising our children, I will be your slave.
A. I have no experience taking care of babies. 1. I will cook, clean, and do what you say. B.Babies grow up quickly. 1. They will not be kept as babies. 2. They will quickly become princesses and stud-muffins on their journey to become geniuses. C. We are a united front. 1. Deferring to me for harsher discipline is acceptable. 2. Maintain any disciplinary action or decision by me. 3. If in question, come to me privately.
Typifying indicators of father-to-daughter patterning
We need a visual artist:
1. Give suggestion to create charcoal B/W. 2. Do not tell her it was Dad .
आपको कुछ जानना ज़रूरी है
मैं आपको एक मैगपाई शर्ट एक बुल मूस शर्ट, और एक भैंसा भेजना चाहता था। लेकिन किसी तरह मेरा अकाउंट ब्लॉक हो गया, इसलिए मुझे चार फ़ोन कॉल करने पड़े और अनंत काल तक होल्ड पर इंतज़ार करना पड़ा यह जानने के लिए कि हमारे मूस और भैंसे को क्यों इंतज़ार करना पड़ेगा।
We haven’t lost even
We haven’t lost even the smallest, tinniest spark a little torch riding a little heel poking
up to the mountaintop, a little torch riding, a little heel poking, a little voice shouting and a blaze.
I wish you knew
I wish you knew how hard I’d fight how hard I fought and I lost, I lost by a “thank you," or an "I'm sorry," because how can you appreciate anything after taking so much after giving too much. I wept on the street after you paid for my baby, and I walked to the art store nearby. and I couldn’t write. I still can’t write, so I'll try.
I slept in stone for you
For months, I wrote to the heavens for reprieve, and I slept in stone, on stone, and without destiny. a pound of flesh for me: a fuller moon. and doe's eyes, and tall shoots,
I stole a book for you
I stole a book last Halloween and I never was able to give it to you. I hadn’t read it since the year before we met. I still have it for you. JF/SM
Wolf
The wolves come out howling direly, direly, daringly. daring sarcophaguses to open teemingly. there is only one straight noose, our wet knights, our wary watchers, our indigo dream at night and can you howl for me, won’t you howl for me. and you can scream for our wet knights, our wary watchers.
The little hairs on your legs
The little hairs on your legs are stalks of wheat in a place I dreamed about. your toes might be little roots to eat. I look at your trunk, the first startling of a great tree, and I dream in the leaves of your eyes, they’re mirrors they’re windows to the naval, tall grasses of each thought you might have of me. and in another world, I see rainboots, I see clovers I see binkies, I see crying, and trying, but try to be here with me.
Is it time to take another road
A road on which you might never smile, I might smile a little, knowing something of Him and of Her, but I might never smile. I might never smile again. and I might never laugh. might I smile a little, might I be so caughtup in this wakeful dream that I forsake it completely. I forgive nothing, I will never forgive you and gravity.
Made of everything
Beautiful woman, beatific creature, you were made of everything– eagle’s feathers, filly hooves, goat’s horns and scales from deep, deep down. and you were with me– two tomatoes at the supermarket, vine-on one of the halves of the avocado pit that I chopped at too hard when you didn’t text me back, and I cut my finger clean off. that’s not what made me cry. what made me cry is your eyelashes in a photo you sent me a year ago. and your crazy hair, your crazy, crazy hair.
Following a road that leads away from everything
I want to follow a road, a road that leads away from everything. I see a certain color, a certain color where the caret is supposed to be. I follow it along the trees, I follow it along the waters, the leaves flowing, changing, bright. I know the colors of you that I’m looking for. violet, lavender, orange, purple, and gold. I try to avoid looking for you. I’m only looking ahead to the most beautiful things that I can give to you. the most beautiful things that I have.
Rains that buried the bells
And a wind, a wind so fought sideways that SHE screached and screamed, and clawed and that which washed ashore cast all nightmares on our children. I’m sixty and writing from the Bible. I’m sixty-two and I screamed at GOD, surely and surely.
your hair falls out, and hotel linens are yellow and your eyes are yellowing; my eyes were bloodshot from the day SHE was born. begin resuscitating goodness, I’m thinking--- Cruella and forty-four witnesses stood with puppies.
With her eyes wide open through the dew
With her eyes open, she walked upon all manner of speech, with bare heels on coals-- red worn through by gravel. pink wormed in. . . “I said,” I said, “pink wormed in.” She didn’t like it before. but in castrated notion to survive, she came to realize the trivial nature of any pursuit, any pursuit. she sparsed a fixtured comment at WHAT I USED TO BE!!! “you black, castrated witch.” wear it, RANGER. WEAR IT, DARLING.
Why touch her now, why make her sad
What is sleeping above your soul will arise out of my mouth to heaven, reaching for stars and angels before time and trees and fallen nuts waiting timelessly backstage we had certain waterfalls and, and, and. . . timeout. and, time OUT! no sir-ee.
I met a keynote speaker tonight
I met a keynote speaker tonight He and I were practicing italics little, tiny letters and aerospace. blue kerosene and shrunk tighty-whities I asked her, I asked him, two tons short of a ham-sandwich will you be around tomorrow night? his wife replied to you, straight to your eyes.
Is there any tomorrow for the fall leaves
I’m looking outside my window like a wary old captain, like a wind-worn cloth hat, oiled to keep the rain off of my head. I don’t belong here at all without you. I belong inside your cabin, my hand on top of yours on the dinner table, the presents I brought for you opened by your dainty hands. the pads of your fingers look like mine, but so much smaller.
What’s left when you’re gone
You undermine tides, you recede with her, and you cast your greater array of stars to distant minds and faces. I awaken each morning’ and I wait, listening, crying out silent as the sleeping gulls, I wonder where we are, and at life without her, and at noon I wake in the heat and the tides let little crabs come out to feast on my wretched body. take it. take wonder and the lights of life laid out on every street at grey a.m. and black p.m. I wouldn’t watch Boston win the world series for the fifth time in two centuries. a little later there were two black kittens screeching for the mother of my children. a little later, she crushed her kief into a little brown nugget of failure to ever make me love again.
Do you believe me
My words fall like rain to your cheeks, and they trickle down to the rocks and the nests and the insufferable drains, and I only see that you hate me because I hate you, too. I hate you so much, I’ve never hated anyone this much, and I’ve never hated my self this much, and I hate that you’d know it and not give me roses, too.
I wept at the gas station
I wept at home plate I wept on the way to our first date if troubles before us become so uncouth ask more from manners and ask more from truth. ask of the mooring that settles our ship, ask of the sand to give cracks to our lip. and ask of the morning, its hand to bring light, its colors, sweet nothings, our needs and our plight. our cravings and dizziness its palate and cry, more magic is coming, more hand without sleight. wonder what light, wonder what moon, wonder what givings are coming dim noon.
Our gold love
Oh, our blue love, out deep ocean set, our coast, our hearts ‘twain puzzles the rain; we poltergeist, we condense, we have more than five to our sense. we wind in the eve, we wave in our hair, we salt to the aft of the elder that dares. in our sweet goings our chappe does his dance, if ghosts are upon us, let Satan his lance. let Satan his lance, and let troubles boil, and six is our number, our rabble, but half of our toil.
Handing staffs to giants
We walk up steps, we wade in goosey hollows, we climb, and climb, and lumber. and in our deceit of having picked too big of a walking stick, we might have a favor to give. up loping mountains to the gods, exchanging glances with the frogs, arranging chances in the fogs, curtailing skinnings, and soupings, and aloof curtains, hand your walking stick to a giant.
I have gone marking the moons
I have gone marking the moons thrice, and I’ve ridden Pegasus through stars to give you a sacred flower and little cow and a magic birdie. what do you make of us? what will you make, what will you make, what will you make for us?
My mouth went across
My mouth went across the thread of a little spider trying to hide. she didn’t find her first desire, a tasty, morsel fly. she knows that what teeth did chatter was a reasoned vicious verse, but yet no fly was caught, no wings to pluck, no scrying, flying thing. I wonder what my spider knew when winds crossed her home. she gloated and threw her kisses. she broke up all her dishes. she ran to other missus and regrets to have to, with my great regrets to have her to hang another noose. I’m sorry, Mrs. Spider, for all the troubled breath. but I love you here, my dear, my window sill friend.
On the shore of the morning
Stories to tell you on the shore of the morning. walking to the sunrise past the baseball fields, the dog parks, the endless staircases, to my home, to where I slept and drank a man’s blood. your love might hold back my tears on the boardwalk from all those years ago. your kisses might ease this pain, might erase this regret. are you ready to feel, to know. . .
I live in the silence
I live in the silence from which I love you. I wait in the silence from which I came, and I drink to keep myself, I drink deeply from waters once run in the corridors of your fated delight. let light fade and all comings, all goings, a forever unwanted–learn to want such things, and a forever needing–learn to need such things, something of anguish and oblivion. the ways threaded nets cannot hold drink, drink, drink of me and delight.
Something goes dying between us
Something between the sharp pains you feel for me, it drops to the floor from my lips, you drop to the floor and I catch you. my toy doll, only a few drops remain trembling.
This string of lives we have
This string of lights across the street, they’re no different, each bulb is another person growing still deferent is not the answer do not pass each whimpering filament questions arise naturally, questions about where we are with each other. we’re the next soul, I think the next soul–
We fall away
We fall away from each other in orange, and red in white hot cold light.
Pillow talk
The words we shared, soft lightning, months of sleeplessness beneath depression and cowls. I wish we had more words–
She stirs in you
Starry night, starry night stirs in you and a culling curling tails fall from my wrist, flail from my hand and my hands are his.
Stains
Stains and sins, eyes something of windows some eyes, a crucifix rests your mind, wrested from your hands be stained from
spiders crawling –one heel, and one severance.
Place
Place your hands on the table put relinquish our whole self is at risk I remember the foremost words you spoke me to me: her first words she remembers the taste of the last words she spoke
Drink shy shadows
A sun wants to hide behind the caste general the chaste abduction.
–cast shadows and ties and a whirl-wind of moraine. cast green and a drizzle
Succulence
You are an eagle, a succubus, all these demons inside you–bring me to your caves and to your chambers candle-lit with dancing flames on walls of stone unshaken, unbroken, un-sufficed to only become what most is needed, a monster suffers in your depths and crawls on two and eight feet, you crawl to it it suffers no one and succulence.
Spectacular
Christened with a spatula, crackling and hints of chiffon if I could if I could slurp meringue out of your pussy if I could if I could make every yellowed-out day my enemy you’re my enemy if you'd only just scream for me.
Pumpkin seeds
Gross equity and inviting at four-hundred-and-fifty degrees I wouldn’t say that, my dear, I wouldn’t say that twice.
Cucumber salad
Cold sake, nigiri, baby.
Forgive what we do wrong
Pray for grace with little footsteps
Tracing my hand along your walls
Your mortar hunts me down inside, breaks the skin along the ends of my fingers autumn leaves disintegrate by the foundations of your self that lingers for me do not leave me for spring, or for summer such a simple casting of golden colors, of burning colors, of burning ends.
We shouldn’t speak of this magic
We should just say what they know. what windows pain our souls what ecstatic conditioning isn’t necessary to be us
Just maybe
Don’t you think just maybe there’s more to this than my appetite for lying. do you think maybe there’s more truth and more dessert coming. do you think maybe, just maybe, you believe
My Baby
Eternity, nine times eternity, nine times, and a madness–await a madness for me, calling and a calling and a winding, winding wound for me. precious and ferocity. you don’t wait as if you don’t want it– you need it. and I’m listening to you as if, as if we could somehow stop all of this. this flame is undying, and our name is a branding on your skin on your neck with the heat of my hand, with the heat of my kiss. and I miss you everyday that your warm red wine soothes me, every hour–our decade, our century in stone and steel with my seal hung from your neck and my hand on your nape, I ask why quince we go to die once we know the face of our fate. our demise isn't final unless you’ll still cry for me, up at night, and grit your teeth silently, scryingly, alignment and foretelling, “will you come home?” won’t you come home with me? come home, little bird, little mouth, quiet chirping, silent teeth grinding, gurgling, dying, becoming– whom is becoming? our quiet cries of destiny, crescive, crescive, and crescive regards to nothing of clenching jowls and moons do not turn us. of master and matron, and an elder tree, drink of me.
Pumpkins
Darling, there’s so little time, there’s so much space, so I’m not sure where to go without you. do you remember when I lost the game, when I saw your name in the stars, in the skin of the stars, in the cry of galaxies to the ears of my Birdie. I’m asking you one last time, be couth to me tonight. I’m asking you one last time, so that you remember I wore your eyes and your birth on my fingers to my dying day. my day of dying, I remember. don’t be too cute to me later, baby. just tonight. just one more starlit night, and if you know where GOD is, ask him about what we spoke before you come back to me.
Then don’t
The next best thing is that you believe me when I tell you that I was hurt so deeply that I forgot how to call you beauty. I forgot how restless love can– restless love can sleep.
Mommy
You’re beauty, matronly, motherly. you’re spangled, masterful, heavenly. you’re sweet, sparkling, sweltering. your breasts are the silk spun by widows for a loving man.
I don’t think you’ve seen the smokeshow
I don’t think you’ve seen the smokeshow until you have all 6’, red lips, hip dips, scarlet cheeks and a suction cup to your chest--- a heart monitor as the mother of your children.
Maggiavellian
She’s studies The Prince, The 48 Laws of Power, Tupac Shakur and the Apocrypha in her spare time.
She knows how to reap advantage, she was born.
She abuses her powers for the good of her siblings.
it’s middle sister nature, a blood princess with a blood price.
You were made from stars
Each scar on your skin is a legend, a part of your map that extends beyond the sea of tears, of wasted promises, broken shards. I wish you knew I always wish you’d know how beautiful they make you, and how gorgeous you are.
Did you know: mother goose #1
Did you know that mother geese can fly for thousands of miles after nearly killing their soulmates to find a suitable home?
Did you know: mother goose #2
Are you aware that if you wish to keep a mother goose, you must tie her up near where you sleep so that you can keep her warm?
Did you know: mother goose #3
If there were only one mother goose, life might be sustained on Earth. but there are nearly 4 million. if each one of us captured a mother goose, we stand a chance. you must turn your mother goose to our side, or we stand no chance of survival.
Did you know: mother goose #4
Did you know that mother geese can smell the blood of the innocent from six miles away? to capture a mother goose, you can bait her with bite-sized children.
Did you know: mother goose #5
Did you know that monsters are no more dangerous than mother geese? if you meet a monster in the wild, make sure that you alert your mother goose and she will protect you.
Did you know: mother goose #6
Your mother goose likes cheeze-whiz? it’s actually not good for you, but aside from occasional jerky-sticks, it’s the only non-organic food that she will eat.
Did you know: mother goose #7
Mother geese are the greatest poker partners. they’ll lose their money and your money. but if your goose has properly bonded to you as her owner, she will even unalive her best goose friend to get your money back.
Did you know: mother goose #8
You are not allowed to hate a mother goose. I repeat, even if she eats your Xbox, a hated mother goose can call upon the most diabolical creatures known to man with a honk.
Did you know: mother goose #9
Mother geese are master linguists and wordsmiths, but they cannot speak. do not underestimate your mother goose when it comes to help with your homework.
Elegance as cat-like features
Your mouth opens wide as a cat’s, blood and pink bubble-gum–I couldn’t say any less or any more of the words you speak cleaningly Sylvester wouldn’t put up a fight to me, and I sure didn’t put one up to you. . .
Did you know: mother goose #10
Once, I met a mother goose that shape-shifted into a shish-kabob. she melted and molted into a young-lady on the backside of the forest behind our house. I almost became dinner behind a strange storage container. do not allow a wild mother-goose to lure you in.
I took a day in bed today
I took and entire day and and I laid in bed dreaming of a world where you’d want to join me.
different faces appearing in half-dreams like vested interests
voices calling and deriding me from the ether
for asking you to do just what I want you to. without a sorry.
I took a day in bed today and my Russian streak that I was so proud of might now be gone. the gym is closed.
I was doing all of that for you. so don’t use the word “independence” in our house.
How quickly
How quickly I would have said sorry without an interpreter present, I would have said sorry like I meant what I said, but I didn’t mean to hurt you, and then in not meaning to hurt you
after so many missed “I’m sorry’s”
that bridge is burned.
I ask that you still find a reason for humility in love
I will. I’ll say I’m sorry if I leave the front door open or the stove on, or if I forget the dishes in the sink.
and I’m sorry for not saying it everyday.
I ask that
I ask,
I ask that,
I ask that somehow,
somehow we never beg for an apology somehow we never bed for a sorry
Not a day went by
Not a day went by and by
Past is past, I suppose
This white page is so intimidating. I’d rather be writing white-on-black, receding hairlines, redacted feelings. the only thought that we truly need. why not be intimate with an accordion with its continual puncture wound and a pianist’s callous. Buddhists, we’re all Buddhists again, witting around each other, cannibalizing.
The camera speaks, beauty
I think I’ll set up two of them if you’ll sign to death with two fingers and wait and wait again with our black Christmas and and a black horsehead why so many ands why not just two cameras because I had to buy a cross for us instead of dinner.
I wept in my mother’s bed
I laid there drinking without dreams and Mother directed me to Saks on Fifth Avenue and I cried and cried that I’d be able to give you things that you could love to wear, and wear forever. and I hope you can love me for the few things that I’m able to give you for a while.
The little seed
Where has this little seed been wandering past broken huts of people blundering, past little nooks of nuts a-sundering, in brooks and falls of water wondering which special plot of hers will break him wide open.
Given two to follow
I wonder what kind of father I’ve been made into a mixture, I suppose if a silent man is waiting, debating the value of his silence. and the other is only there for his girls.
A wish for standing water
Find a penny in the cool nixt light, in the fastened culture
Gregariously fashioned
Await a stained sliding glass door, one side with ailments of any kind being passed from tip-to-tip-toe, and wish we could progress to a younger state of things, with seventy-year-olds maintaining fashion, give them to a thrift store a decade out, babe.
Give light on the town
Give me the light on the town splendid candor hopscotch and frozen air I won’t say I’m sorry I will say thank you and I’ll love you for it, I’ll love you like it’s my dying day. give like give love give like interest is infinite because it might be, thirty-nine years from now hopscotch in the Berlin tower man-made objects strewn from us in the underarm of our country in the underarm of my coat in the backcountry with, “these are our horses?” because it might be.
The gato’s meow
Remember when you left your heels in Honk Kong? I sure do, I was so drunk I had an English accent to the uber driver, “those bloody heels.”
Something in the Bible that you need to understand
Something in manhood, if you’d like to read it that way. the basis of my love for our family is my love for you. if you want me to respect your heartfelt engagement to a lifelong marriage, you need the will to write as if this is the truth for you as well. 9
My teeth fluorescent
My teeth fluorescent as a Nazi shower curtain my nose sharp as your mother’s razor red hot stones agonize my abdomen blackberries spit and pass
Over your love the clouds go
A little haughty until they’re seeing they’re a little flatter o my god, the mirror isn’t looking as good to the onlooking looker we’re forty-five my dear, look up my darlings, look down they’ve never seen a bonfire accidental and the barn in ashes eye the cauldron of the afternoon with French soles and closed air and a whisper
Brown, black, and yellow
Five bullion hats 'round the campfire at nine o’clock after-before the bells and Dad’s singing Christmas carols in June. why? because we all need Jesus again this year.
If it’s not the bell (it's new knees)
30 mile hike on the weekend, drunk at school— sobriety in Mother’s church with eight-hundred horses, and crying out loud won’t get us there.
A beauty begone with age
And a rage you have I say, it’s a rage not like any other. o bright beast, melts in the window sordid creature, turpentine and vacancy and every delight upon us. baby, know that you did everything one or all of us would do. and I’m sorry for once in a lifetime I’m sorry for once in a glance I’m sorry for not calling you beautiful enough of that I’m sorry for not calling you beautiful enough of that nonsense you’re beautiful tonight, and you’re calling me and I’m listening to you breathe
The face
The face that lived in this silver is the face of a dead man shelter of the begotten love shivers of unseen ice and breath ready to become frost lights burn green and blue wooded areas turn to playgrounds for mice and the last little butterflies the mouse gulps and recovers their small attitude and the face I see, with its yellow heart, and loping calves, treacherous sinew, attracting a wolf and all kinds of howling vermin, asks with his sleep-frost breath, “won’t you see me, too?”
White and jade
With its white, “what stone is this?” the first one, lady, the first stone with its white calcification and two birds, the first two, “what bird is this?” the one that counts, lady without the sea “what gems are those?” it further depends on the attitude of your arraignment, and it further depends on counting, counting on them.
Absence
I resolve in my sheath of possibilities I’m seeing three, two more, one more I’m seeing the gross nightlight of just one more extra spacing I’m wanting two of you with me, immediately. Attendants of Eyelashes, that’s what you’re called. and that’s what you’ll be.
Do not be mean
Do not be mean, I am ready for enormity.
do not be rude to me with your dangerous claws, harpy’s harping stringing me out
harpsichords are out of the question but harps, baby baby’s harps we’ll have one
A prayer too long ago
I asked for something. be careful to ask for something too particular, but if you ask King David for anything in particular in a note written and burned, ask for a harpist.
If the moon winked
If the moon winked at me she might resemble your touchless, touchless, bright blue coals, stockings full of green feathers and candy balloons of chocolate rolling around inside hardened balls of cellophane. to be the whisper upon your ear, to the cat alive in her dungeness dessert each night we order out of stateliness.
An engine
An engine chuffing me off like a cow, write of love, o sweet bird of preying, eyeing love I write on a mirror with tinsel and boughs writing on a mirror with erasure of present writing on a mirror with closed earlobes writing on a mirror writing on a mirror
I’m sorry from the first
I was born, begotten by no one so the first fall came and the first leaves fell, and I, being so orange and red, did not remember to fall so hard, or so alone– I did not remember to fall at all. and the first winter came, my little heart frozen, my little leaf frozen, my little tree numb to the touch. and I remembered to ask my branches, and her branches, what is my purpose here? she told me, “to be beautiful, to be the last.” so I asked her branches, and her branches, what is my purpose here? “to be wonder, to be the last.” so I waited until spring, through the winter, cold and dark. I thought the rains would help. when winter thawed, I knew a spark, I jumped, and lept, and fell. When I dropped to heaven, I wondered then, and asked what creatures scurried, what is my purpose here?
. . .
What ships have said
What ships have said, and whispers sailed, that decks have known such soles. we working bunch, we toil and chail, we spell and wretch and guess at death to wander, what a march. such soles at marching granding, crutching, knowing but a wisp. that we such souls, we know our keep, our grandeur but a jip. but we such souls, we know our march, we know our take, we know our wake, but nothing in its face. but we such souls, we know our lot, our pardon from a snake. but we such souls, we know our boot, our pardon, our take.
Everyday you play
Everyday you play with the light in me, and every day passes that I am given nothing to burn at my faithless brazier I write to you and hear nothing, faithless and listening to nothing, faithless doll, do you believe in this I hear nothing, and I wander these cold and iceless catacombs like an adorned visitor selling what is his until he wears nothing.
Suddenly the storm howls
Suddenly the storm howls, the pressure swings open my window, and I stare ruthlessly at shattered glass where my bright lights, now cold were giving me echos of light, of everlasting goodness to you, will I see you in this breasted storm, this torrent of enchanted life, will you be here in the daytime when you’re most wanted, enchantress, most wanted.
The ravens go by, fleeing
We are moored to the sky become an everlasting lamp, ever sought, and give all surreptitious nature to flight. count on it, my dear, count on us at seven at blue, and green, white and black as this vast enterprise awakens in its eye and the winds-storm whirls our dark rubble we are moored to the sky so Eleazar can take clothes off of the rain.
My nectarine
My happiness bites the nectarine of your cheeks, and the grasslands the tree-scape my land is so full of your lovely creatures that She is given to tears.
Impassible
Impassible as the sliding glass door a dog’s chipped tooth– barking pheromones and barking squirrels. I feel your absence in the way the cars lightly howl on my window. If there were a mountain to climb within the distance my knees can take me, directions--how to read up to the peak of your love. as squirrels might be found in the park next to their worst enemies and as markers abrase sidewalks without leaving their chalk-wanted flowers and smiling hats on faces. leave me blank and breathless that all this hatred at the absence of your love is forgiven.
An old man
I might write like an old gentleman trying to write. I haven’t gotten out of bed while I try here at my desk. a kitten meows in the bathroom, she pissed the bed twice. I lay her on my chest to cure my heart.
Carrying
Carrying me like a child nurturing forgiveness and nurturing gratitude instead of grinding away at how little I want now that I’ve gotten nothing. carry me for a while not your two steps towards me, my one step back
No sense to make after a long time in a sordid place
I don’t need to make sense anymore that’s the wrong-footed tac except to say I wish to read your thoughts at my thoughts at your thoughts at my thoughts for the rest of my life.
Spilling your guts on the treetops
With Wendy and Pan, and all those flying creatures passing up on a great divine marriage ramshackled to be less than a fox, and without any fortune telling around the treetops become more vainglorious more prideful and eyeing and that child that can never die might fly home.
Their humility
All the heroes know are journeys like Lazarus’ day forth and the drizzle on my words, thirst, thirst of a red-rosey succulent of a green petaled window plant my ear without tells and the drip, drips of every bastard alive.
Correctness on Fourth St
Did I do it right. . . ? do you now want me to tell you the biggest plum-black secret? tip-to-tips between hall-passes and making out in the library, I’ve-never-done-it-before’s but the babies. they’re getting speeding tickets but the babies. they’re jealous and I’m jealous, and I’m in love with you. . .
I have a question for you
I want an answer, preferably before fear, and I want an answer now, but now is only before you hear the thunder crack with a three-year-old daughter eight feet in the air.
We were never born
We were never born, I don’t think. we were never born to the endless mirage of angles and
without emptiness what would
we ever be?
If York could see
On an expedition where all wildness’ looks with sharpness and acidic fear in the shadows, I was there with you, somehow, a shaman playing at a wolf-fiend. it’s not playful it’s painful, each step across a knotted log with lurches and things in mud-ridden hide shoes. won’t you play with me softly? . . . I’m with you all the way
My physical therapist's name (I managed to make an appointment two hours ago, 1/28/26)
My physical therapist's name is Genevieve I sang at the church where I’m waiting in line for food. I wear long sleeve shirts with thumb holes for the warmth people old and decrepit–young and poor I care and an old man, "do you see the clock?" "do you need the time?" "do you see the clock?” “. . it’s 5:20” “do you see the clock?” he smiled and mumbled. . . 11,12 11:55 and twenty minutes later it was still when I left to the gymnasium.
Concatenation
A nexus of rainbows as firs sit on hills that divide the larger moss-pitten streams larger fangers at cliffsides with hooves gripping at sample-stone I am hers, even in my resolve I climb sideways only so far and she is two spitting images of the wanted.
But that I love you -- an old man writing a poem
Your Churchill knobs of old American style this is before the seventies and before the mixer-while. that woman in you afear’d and lame I hope, after a drink, she has a game– I’m not a smiling man, I’m not a man at all that gives more than a glance. I’m not a laughing man, I’m not a man at all that touches by chance. I’m in this for the taking for the staking for your dripping legs, for your wasting heart– for your aching– and I’m not a man at all, if I call an accident. I’m not a man at all.
The magnum
We might lose this war: “we might as well go there.” she has a penchant for pitchers, like all of my [ex] girlfriends. she quit taking grounders from Daddy, and now she wants to live on the east side at sixteen to focus on her studies at Stuyvesant.
Mother-brain
Mom doesn’t want our Maggie living alone, good thing Dad’s escape plan is ready to go at the market’s behest--- subdivide the lot, build a couple more homes, and move to Long Island. . . where’s next?
E-I-E-I-O
Little did she know, she’s a farmgirl who’s lord is the night. I like it. “but she’s so classy.” that’s because her father is a wizard. she has a pet owl, and a monitor lizard, and her favorite cow. she keeps her sister’s flying squirrel on her shoulder while she plays the harpe daye and nighte.
Reading about masonry
You’ll find the flame and the fire and the alchemical elements bound in tribunal casting, the godheads, everlasting, a quiet dragon mouth-breathing at the birth of it all, rotund, but reading about my classiest daughter, at a nine and twelve, I sit at my desk years before her birth as a classier man.
“We don’t need”
We don’t need underwear, either “We don’t need. . . !” we do not necessarily need lightbulbs “We do not need–” we have the room and Daddy said \ “DADDY SAID WHAT .”/ . . . Daddy said that “TELL DADDY”\\ \ Father told me that cheetahs are very social pack animals.
50-Cent angles
She’s a poker player, Daddy's teaching everybody else to get naked. she hasn’t touched her harp since she was nine. she’s so jealous of her sisters, all she wants to do is eat her sister’s cow’s boyfriend vaporizing weed out of a hollowed out lightbulb. the knowledge is based on her 6th grade science project that Daddy did for her. a lady after Daddy’s own heart.
If only weeks, 5 Ever
If only your love were a week away I’d know everything I’ve given back to me. don’t hang up on me. I won’t talk over you. I’ve tried my best to give you everything of myself, of what I want in a family. everything. and I want you to give back to me as if I’m special to you too. it hurts me to not know from you that you love me. maybe we’re more for making it through.
Hope
I was hoping that god would be better than this, and by that I mean god is myself, I was hoping that GOD, we would be better you’re beautiful at maintaining respect, you’re ugly dignity, mutual affirmation, you’re ugly kindness and connection, and for HIS sake, you’re beautiful and what else can I ever give you in my entire life? than how many thousands of verses?
you’re beautiful, so cry, but you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful so cry and you’re beautiful again.
I walk towards your building
To get to the gym. I made it in, and I’m too weak to work out. I made it a block from the gym, and I remember seeing your door-man outside, telling me that the best I could do was not well-received. I made it a block down my street towards the 24 hour fitness on fourth street, and I remembered that despite all of this, I wasn’t able to deliver the last bouquet to you. “I am not suicidal.” “I am not suicidal.” is all I could say this morning. “you need a therapist.” is all could hear from you. or you’ll get a restraining order for all the flowers I’ve brought to you. I’m keeping the Russian alive, I can’t pick up the guitar, I haven’t touched the books I wanted to read. it was all for you, and for the “I love you.” and a kiss on the forehead for every lesson, and a happy tear for every song and a stroke to my ego for every lift, so promises are off unless you’d see this.
The day I’ll die
The day I’ll die on our table, 50th anniversary I’ll give up and die just to say we’ll make it there (but just know, I need new knees at thirty-one). and know this, I’ll make an easy trek in the East and call it Everest (for the sake of the best that one can do).
Smoomoo
You’re outed. it’s over for you, you sweetie, deletey, extra creepy, italo-dark-vanilla-spanish-spicy cocaine-coffee-cake. what else do I have to say? oh wait. loser.
Smooth Creamsicle White Russian
Gummy bears in grey goose without ice, and instant espresso? I don’t think so. we’re talking you’re flavorite two-week old Rolos in a flask of 51-50. nah. how about Viking tears on the NYC strip with the ball dropping and a bottle of Mr. Black, and we’ve got everything we need.
Bird cat and a peanut butter whiskey
A pony of hooch, amber ale (something between light and dark, just to be an ass) Oakshire if they’ve got it. Sapporo. Sapporo. Sapporo. it’s Reyka. bro. I care, ok? did you want this crystal head? what, Belvedere? WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE VODKA, IT IS ALSO MY FAVORITE VODKA, except smirnoff. after this bottle, I would like you to know, in 2017-2021 I was practicing Witchcraft and telling people straight-faced, “I want an arranged marriage." I was also Lady Gaga’ing, “I would like to railroad renewable energy through the United States of America.”
AM NTK #1 Purgatory clothes drying rack
I have a problem with XXL and XXXL. . . it’s never long enough after putting it through the dryer. and I’m not well I’m obese with a 6 pack but I’m not fat I’m kinda fat but I do not need an XXXXL. XXLT is the way to be. anyway what I was getting at is that when I wear something for like two hours I like to drape it temporarily on a permanent clothes-drying rack in the room.
AM NTK #3 If
I’m stressed or anxious or depressed or full or hungry or sad or happy
I need cuddles.
AM NTK #2 Very sometimes
Not wanting to hang out with anybody ever
except you.
AM NTK #7 I will sometimes interrupt you
and I’m always sorry it’s because I’m excited
to say something. .
AM NTK #6 Romans 6:16
If there’s ice cream I will eat it
and I will get fat I’m never joking about getting fat I will die. . . . please do not make me eat ice cream
AM NTK #5 Happiness is
There is only one way to be happy sometimes
and sometimes sometimes occasionally it is actually $7.99 spent on amazon.
AM NTK #9 Romans 16:16
Do you want to call me bro, dude, homie, etc., when I’m pissing you off? please do not, dear.
AM NTW #4 Competitively annoying
If I bug you for one of two reasons . . bug off
1. I am giving you kisses or wrapping my arms around you all the time 2. Also I am competitive and I am always and forever seeking healthy competition e.g. book reading, working out, video gaming, etc., ad infinitum
AM NTK #8
Thank you. Thank you for thanking me. Thank everything sometimes even when it's awkward or you’re at odds.
IT DOES NOT IMPLY THAT YOU WIN IF YOU’RE MAD AT ME
AM NTK #10 You will win with avoidance
You win. you will always win. it isn’t a superpower, it’s villainous to me and I will bite my nails until I bleed
AM NTK #11 As a child
Take me as a child, take my hands and wash them, pat the blood dry trim my cuticles and kiss them.
AM NTK #12 Pegasus
I know I’m a man, I know I’m a man because
I’d die for you.
is this true?
Genevieve: Woman of the family, second mother
--
I’m trying to think of something more poetic, more ecstatic that just a moment recorded as if it were meant for the end beginning of an old poem.
I was on the way out of my apartment building and it was just an old man, or just my self, but it was only an old man and a clock.
P.S. I'm stealing the clock
I’m borrowing I’m taking time from the old farts poor as I, poorer than I,
and will HE see, the one who stays near the office wifi and plays Yahtzee, yes he will. but I used to hide my face too much doing the world little acts of service.
I’ll leave a new one later.
New one in the mail.
My physical therapist's name (I managed to make an appointment two hours ago, 1/28/26)
My physical therapist's name is Genevieve I sang at the church where I’m waiting in line for food. I wear long sleeve shirts with thumb holes for the warmth people old and decrepit–young and poor I care and an old man, "do you see the clock?" "do you need the time?" "do you see the clock?” “. . it’s 5:20.” “do you see the clock?” he smiled and mumbled. . . 11,12 11:55 and twenty minutes later it was still when I left to the gymnasium.
I found this jacket at a thrift store a couple weeks ago.
It all happened without even a second look, like it was mundane and not so special. I’ve been up all night mulling things over. I’ve decided to wait for you, Sophia, to help me write something beautiful to dedicate to our Genevieve. I want to make sure you have the obituary of the Genevieve who passed away and what I left there. I love you. https://www.forevermissed.com/gigi-noonan/about
It’s not like I can do it all myself
What am I, a mother? what am I the most beautiful rose I have ever seen what am I the most glorious red and green sunset what am I the sunrise this morning warmed me and did not wake me what am I? the howls, darling don’t ask too many strangers what am I? the ripped curtains they’re on the floor
A journey
I cannot walk a hundred miles but if you want to see something that maybe, with a baby (and after evermore), we really just couldn’t, and at a place where we prefer to lose, not gain 2 stone, do you want to find a place so far from home, a home in me and you (before the evening).
aha! I'll walk one-hundred-twenty (have you seen the pharmacies?)
Bliss
Is it comfort is it patience is it suffering
concatenation, congruency with the nation of felines
thus is bliss, do not ask any more.
Jupiter and Saturn
Crawling serpents of the mind to cast aside, and little machine elves, hyperspace beings that climb through your honeycomb fortresses. . . I have heard all of the sort. and do I believe in aliens? do you believe in angels? I have saved a trip down and up and through to be with you.
Heaven
What do you think of Heaven? is it a place we all go? I don’t believe so, yet I don’t claim to know. I don’t believe that we all survive as our selves in the way that we know. some of us may be put through the wringer that we rejoin something greater than ourselves, that we do not keep the same self. and there is the wheel, perhaps it’s not so bad here.
Nirvana
If, if you have the nerve to assume that being still with yourself, intentionally creating good circumstances for yourself and those around you in your heart is incorrect, you may also do so with words. *[I do accept prayers around Christmas time] sic
*I wrote, “I do accept prayers. . .” and stopped. The fire alarm blared. † Watch your mouth as well.
Sacro-illiac
Somehow pain is religious avoidance of it, the opposite
What’s there left to say
You’d better tell me you’d better tell me no, you’d better tell me
Here lays the end of the road
The only thing I will challenge to its face, and beyond to its core, is someone who will not look at my old caracal.
Prepare thyself, liberal mother
Crawdad licking, Bible thumping, mud-slinging, grills galore, 800 horses, 6 wheels, 3 daughters and a smokin’ hotwife at a central Florida mudding festival. are you ready? (three days, straight to Miami Beach)
https://www.apocalypse6x6.com/hellfire-8 with hellcat. https://www.soflocustom.com/builder/hellfire/?config=24772 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mei0gFgwzn0 Armored vehicle for our Madam President. Insane story coming as to how I found it in the first place.
Schadenfreude
Something else in German:
feelings of nostalgia for a time period during which you were not alive.
(1890’s, 1950’s) go.
What are you worth
What are you worth to me?
what are you worth to us?
is it what you’re wearing, angel?
is it what you carry, lover?
is it what you hold?
is it what you want?
Miso
I walked to the grocery store today, all amber footed and without a dinosaur’s sufferance. I don’t have enough money for a clean mattress, my $1900 kitten’s pissing on her piss on her piss on her piss-stains. there was only one thing I needed, I have chicken, bok choy mushrooms, and green onions. The miso was hard to find, so I asked someone. I had $6.41 on my card and another dollar-fifty in change. he pointed me to the stuff I couldn’t find before, the spicier stuff. it was $7.99 it was a little flatter packaged, so I pocketed two of them right there in the isle and I went and picked out some ice cream.
How deep does the water go
How breathless, chilling, then warming to soul and heart. . . I have traversed rivers and swam in their sources. if in interest to yourself, to what you hold let it go, let it free that it drips from your calloused lashes and lashes and lashes and lashes.
The evening star
So many times have we seen the evening star burn, kissing our irises, kissing our wounds, walk the night farther
walk the intimate arrangement as a homestead, made and burned to kill its infestations and in the moonlit night the blue-grey light untunes its magic barriers to reveal the mother-of-pearl the glistening artifact of life in your roots, a speckled tied-in-knots belying nothing more, and a gem to sell to rebuild once again that forest dwelling, sparkling creatures with emerald and moondust looking at you looking at me large as the saucers we find on the ground, charred and lungfuls of creation large breaths and cooked fangs. I’m growing, are you? I’m growing so old and so left-ways. I’m afraid you can’t hear the chip of my tooth anymore, or the way I muster breath. you can’t hear my tongue and lips clack so ominously, or not at all on dancers feet on ballerinas toes on lips that live as the midnight. on becoming boats that carry not one but both to sea, to sea again.
I go so far as the think you own the cosmos
Here, on our far fetched plane of existence, (you would not believe the entertainment) our far flung dreams and sketched in guidelines, (we live on our words for goodness’ sake) swing by another one of her dates, swing by (she wouldn’t pass this “okay” up) and he’s wondering if we’ll help with a family car. but she lets you tempt him with a Tesla. who are you? our rose, our rose needs no temptations strung from her like a lure. she is Daphne!
Your silence is bright as the morning sun
You need no absence, you are needed, you are needed wake up in the morning and read the papers, the news, the twitching cable channels are not of interest in this otherworldly place that we are chell that we are in gratitude to your hands and your commanding silence.
Reaper of the evening song
Shallow dreams asking but that you’d be mine cast aside all wonder and thought and say she is not the one, she is not the one, none are but me, if you wish. and I will be without regret. and I live without regret more in love than our ferns and our cilia what do these words so mean are they more important they are more important than our days. what do our words so mean? they are more important than our sleep.
On the soul of the evening
You rise awake on the soul of the morning on the drips of the afternoon, and you lay awake in the evening and take no fangs with you, you are not something that crawls, you are something that catches life, that lives in its own dew drops and suckles at sweet nectar robust and congregating to be seen by the thing that sees us, by the beak of breaking and the scorn of loss. we will pass this road together and with valiance. our hearts press the stars.
The only thing that flies
Have you ever seen a bird in flight have you ever seen:bang it was decimated by thirty five pellets traveling past the speed of, “damn you, damn you to hell, damn you.” should you ever publish a book of poetry without me.
Non-visibly smiling through a man
I haven’t forgiven you for last hunting season if I could meet him, that guy, that rich guy that guy with a job he had a job that’s what I remember you saying about that rich guy I am forever depressed and in a whirlpool of tragic emotions. be wary of knives and sharp objects they are a danger
Spicy meat-a-ball
There are noodles a place, that is, where noodles rain from heaven and we all come together around a big spicy meat-a-ball. occasionally we have scallops while the bigger and bigger spicy meat-a-ball brings the heavenly noodles. it consumes and we gather ‘round it consumes and we don’t know what it consumes; kittens, puppies, all sorts of rummaging rascals try to make it past our back-door defenses to taste the spicy meat-a-ball, and so it grows.
You have swans from your ankles to your hips
They criss/cross and dance they are invincible/collaborative they invite reverence at their colors so sparse and white and blank/shadow request the size of the shadow repertoire and space reverence, I said and a sense that everything comes together at the graces, their necks everything comes together at grace.
Little bird and groom
This little bird dressed as the moon, this little bird and groom. this little bird has feelings and ferocious intent at her course, and this groom is dressed as a horse.
Pulling all the heavens over him
There’s never been such a man who could fail pulling all the heavens over him with one breath, one rope, one laceration to the sky. I feel your intent, I feel your intent at the the scene of two breaths, three breaths, four, four breaths, ice, and five.
At a lake of peace
At a lake whose majesty questions the clouds, and who whimpers at her falling hair, her falling leaves of the friends who pamper her shores. stones, square stones, of a heaven built built stone by stone, and a boat, a boat that carried the Moirais to the other shore and the deeper heavens for those whose step is feather and gold.
I want to burn it all down
Every step of savagery every screech heard through walls even mice quiver and crickets quiet their chirping and angels mock us they mock us gladfully for we deserve every damned echo damn us, damn us, won’t you Raphael, for ever having lived once. but to our children, there is no past. remember this, there is no past, it is their future.
A secondary prayer, secondary to a harpist
I wrote something else that comes to mind like quicksand– that I will write a children’s book. so won't you help me, Sophia? there is a Pharaoh going to New York City. The Pharaoh and the Hound or The Pharoah and the Hot-Dog
Under the basket-case
First, we will define two nouns one, Under. Under is a great big oaf who keeps knocking his head on doorframes.
Dream list
1. Apocalypse 6x6 Hellcat ($250,000) 2. Boat Used 25’+ ($80,000+) 3. Baseball diamond ($60,000+) 4. Tree house ($45,000) - 5. [sic] ($180,000) *[Celebration of our Family] 6. Watches for Zach ($100,000) 7. Watch for Sophia ($50,000) 8. Freyr statue ($25,000) *[ 9. Family and friends, 100+ ($40,000)]
Speech
You bet I’ll give a speech. be good to me.
Thinking about time and fathers
Thinking about my father and your father and your grandfather, and your sister.
I was cracked like a nut a very tough nut, I might add I remember asking about averages and psychological masochism: “more average submariner or average captain?” average captain is what I heard. what I told them, my tears acidic, is that I believe the west coast will be threatened within two decades.
10-20, 11-13 10-20, 11-13 10-20, 11-13 . . .
I walk a lonely road as a bear (economical pessimist)
I wander between desk and soliloquy insofar as matches can start a fire I march up to your door and ask if you’d like to move east “would you come with me, (I am your savior) I’d like to save you.” it’s not a march I’d make twice. and at my desk I want to see the fire, I want to watch it burn positioning liquidity volatility crash, burn, burn, burn.
Booklist
The Intelligent Investor - 640,000 Eisenhower and the Cold War Economy - 304,000 Butter and Guns - 342,000 etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.
Aloof and cat-like behavior, symptoms of ASFPD
I have never called a girlfriend “babe,” or any pet name you can think of. I am a strange cat, darling. it’s a strange world.
You better gush
Gush words like a fountain a fountain pen climbed up Mt. Everest and died there, alive in its trail forever.
it is meaningless, dear, until you recognize beauty in someone's meaninglessness.
so you have 300 seconds 200 words go.
and every time we cannot think of the right words
“go.”
Acrylics killed Phil
I’d like to rhyme like a 30’s rapstar in case my mother decides to get into the copcar with me.
I remember two dogs on the street, my backpack and two legs and a smashed brick mailbox for the papers because my mother wouldn't give me the wheel hammered drunk.
was I running I ran around town twice never once with my underwear on
The last time I wore underwear
The last time I wore underwear was 38 miles out of out of out of town.
am I going to hit this marker at $16,000 feet or die first.
“cry a little bit, it helps.”
you’d have to go diving in my oxygen tank to feel any colder, sweatier, or dehydrated solemnly.
If Ricky Henderson were a chess player
I don’t even know his name that’s what I like to say when I don’t know who someone is.
lol, twice
did he play basketball? I don’t even know who the best pitcher in the MLB is.
I qualify as a GAMER,
I just want to beat you. Give me the object.
We have decades ahead of us
Slices of bread and butter for the hunger of memory. raspberry jelly, little kisses to help
You told me once, twice, forever
You told me that you you said,
you said. . . “I love you.”
and it crushed me it was a pound of metal for every kiss we never shared a pound of sand for every man I’ve heard about a rock for every one I’ve kicked I start to analyze each text like a fingerprint each week like God’s palm olive and steel creation deletion tiresome trick you have at un- command.
we spoke we spoke–we spoke–we spoke. . .
Going the whole way
We go like figs, they’re fruit, they’re one of God’s creations but there’s no where not one place not one alleyway but that I am with you for you with you
to tell the truth, I’m without a cause as well like giant icicles pests to the pessimist but I am with you and I ask one directional thought to the other collapse with me
If you said it
If. . .
you wrote your last a word with me have words with me a word to me would mean “goodbye.”
and I’m afraid to see a letter a single letter of the word
what would it mean? what could it mean?
I’m afraid to see the single eyelash on a mountain in a snowfield a single eyelash
Mommy (#3)
"Get out!" "no, sweetheart." "JUST GET OUT!" this is ours, and we will exist separately.
“I’m done talking to you about this.” “I need some time to think about this.” “Give me some space to think about this.” “Can we talk about this later.”
Mommy (#4)
We get up in the morning, you don’t have to we get up in the morning you have to we get in the car and drive the kids to school and make breakfast and I’ll have morning workouts for us Mommy can kick my ass to do so.
Mommy (#5)
We don’t get in trouble, dear. IT’S CERTAINLY NOT, “Well, that’s your father.” however if you get caught with anything, it was not yours you throw it on the roof, you ask for our attorney how do we teach this . . . it is your job.
Mommy (#6)
We don’t get in “talks,” that last for days or weeks. there’s no reason that Daddy and Mommy are not acting normal that becomes normal.
Mommy (#7)
The Queen takes her seat it means we have help and a throne so use it wisely
Mommy (#8)
When I’m 65 I want to brag about never having called you a [sic]. ^><^
. . .
[do you want to know a thing? it’s official record to the [sic] that I have never called a woman a bitch except you.] sic
[you’re never going to see the deleted texts.] sic
Mommy (#9)
Are we friends? yes, what are friends? they are demons who hold to their words more easily because they are relatively dispassionate.
Mommy (#10)
Are we lovers? by something beyond ourselves. are we fated? by some- thing within ourselves.
Mommy (#11)
Are we bound? we are bound by miracles. are we broken? we have both been broken.
Mommy (#12)
Are we whole? we are without beginning. are we dead? without ending we are cleansed by our complete indifference. at best we are made by magic–with magic for magic and I could stop time to walk in front of a bullet.
Can I dream of a different place with you
France, what about France, uhm I’ve heard Paris sucks it might have been cool like when before Ferris wheels could be built wth is the Eiffel tower . make a metaphor he says sure I’ll sell the damned thing twice
I yelled back when I heard thunder
Screamed roared at the last breath of a dying cattle prod a branding some kind of scorched earth tragedy some kind of Peruvian magic, without it without anything I’d have been fine but to expect
that maybe
you
Give me two last breaths
Don’t go into the night into the impossible for me, anyway, impossible I’d only ask
for the blues
What’s real is more important than magic
And magic is more important at a scale that might command tides morale
and con-cat-e-nation, concatenation
nine times concatenations to you.
but what you feel ought to be commanded, not outright, but commanded by what is real.
What is a magician
Without an army without his children but do children hold weapons of the mind not directionless compasses mean median command but the mode is what we look to for magic, at small instances command:real value:scrying
dont think that I don’t know but know that I didn’t look at my caracular. . hehe ^><^ my “caracular” pictures for years.
Concatenations (#1)
Sexual intimacy when 13? absolutely unobtrusively going to shame them 14? I’m a nervous but not sad 15? hopefully with a best friend 19? I’m proud 22? I'm still hopeful
what’s a tough conversation for 20 years
I believe feminism is for the boys.
on a real note, I love you for your strength and your kindness, and your fortitude, and your greatness
I’d say that to any daughter
but if my daughter wants to be a boy )I expect her to)
:but in my personal experience (2010’s PSU) feminism in younger women who are unapologetically uninterested in its study or taking what is traditionally a man’s role in business (women represent just over 10% of CEO's in the US), etc., is
grounded in hatred of men
“I didn’t feel like I could (or was encouraged to) take a man’s role and when I realized this I was resentful at it.”
I don’t disagree at all
if my daughter is a 4.0 at Stuyvesant wanting to get a Harvard MBA all of a sudden I’m a feminist to the bone.
and I see wealth as a barrier to a traditionally woman’s role today meaning to be the primary and full-time caretaker of a family
we need a harmonizing approach. I want to hear your thoughts as they fly out of you. I think that's what happens.
Concatenations (#2)
Where would we be without the promise the revelation the incarceration or debilitating effects on drive wrong or right that a windfall can bring.
I have felt like a tormented genie in a bottle like a melanistic fox half-bitten by a viper its leg falling off but not so much dying, unfortunately
I am ready to take over the–nowadays my brain is not so uppity–under 120 IQ universe
but
what of our children?
I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know what narcissism is
I don’t know if I wanted to be rich because I couldn’t afford what I needed
so this drive has
depths
but it doesn’t take as much to be happy in fact, I believe sometimes less.
so what do we preach?
enlightenment? perhaps we will have philosophers and philanthropists
fulfillment? perhaps a smile from a few or a million or harnessing the wind
maximization? I WAS MADE TO THROW SHIT REALLY HARD FROM MOUNTAINTOPS I personally like this approach for athletes from wealthy parentage.
but seriously, I need your thoughts on what can make the snottiest brats smile for a lifetime
Concatenations (#3)
Frugality and conning oneself I have a Mitas-touch curse just a touch
overconfidence and promises
and trust me it’s more like it’s more like
I’d cry to you to tell you
if I thought that you’d be happier:maybe you wouldn’t drink that you’d be sweeter(maybe you’d want to be with me) with a big grey box in Malibu
if GOD if, GOD DAMNIT if we aren’t doing well someday, if we’re on the rocks if a tennis bracelet doesn’t solve the problem you’ll sell it anyway so take my promises with a touch of --"I’m an accountant too"-- grace.
if I can’t afford a tennis bracelet (it’ll just be more expensive than the ring, baby) (I’ll remember my mother until the day I die) I might feel too pathetic to feel worthy to feel capable to feel even like an adult
to solve a problem graciously.
Concatenations (#4)
GOD is real, realer than words, therefore realer than the Bible (John 1:1)
what is realer than GOD you my children
and what do we do what do I do what can IT do
if I don’t have you
this is fervent reference is somewhat metaphysically incorrect:what we think we may:speak we may:see
in my experience what am I trying to tell you?
She is real as well, but in team- mate
ship
WHAT IS IT THAT i WILL HEAR 80 miles into the woooods from you, little mouse, litttle bird, quiet blouse I wonder if we can count on the-ra-py I think its best we write under the covers with paper and pen to each other.
if, if nothing you are less important She is
if you are not writing to me in paper and pen under the covers.
Concatenations (#5)
You cannot kill a god
there may be things written that can never be out ran out gunned (except by the principal) out lived etc, ad expulsion and homeschooling and
exceedingly angry (no more or less than I) children.
I was: - homeless - a fentanyl addict -
I am not joking however, I do not mind the idea of homeschooling.
I would cover maths and sciences, and kicking ass in sports.
and to graces we might find in Her.
Concatenations (#6)
Have you ever wanted something
somehow wanted it and it was worth more than your life?
it was for you, but you could die and still get it,
or it was greater because you died for it.
it is greater still to live.
but ask yourself the question, and what you’d be
would you go through hell to be it? would you see us through?
it’s up to you.
Concatenations #7
What is:
a relationship?
is it something sacred is it something flippant see two sides of a coin it is easy to do as the Romans.
what we speak has only as much impact as what we believe and it is tough to believe that any woman should die that any man should die to be in love, to stay with someone forever.
and yes, just like dying and being born again, it is metaphysical, psychologically powerful speak.
it is important to protect innocence with fairy tales, with an ethereal father and mother that watch your every Blink.
save yourself.
Daddy and Mommy saved themselves for each other for over a year.
sanctify yourself.
it might be energies, baggage, purity.
I prefer purity. I am proud of us.
I will express pride in my children with sometimes a poetic, Biblical tone not to be undermined, but given judiciality to respect a teenager's experience in the 21st century.
Concatenations #8
Do I believe in the Father?
Do I believe in the Mother?
I believe that the simplest and most objectively relevant delineation is to point
to or from words.
what is Witchcraft it is power given to objects and rituals animals, interpretations, and magix that cannot be best given to words.
what is GOD to John? John 1:1 and all else is false idolatry.
but can you tell me what Freyr’s eyes were saying? you might only write it so poetically, and what is left but some carcass of the meaning that must be beheld?
ineffable unshakable breathable
and to break the ground at a temple or a church isn’t ever our place.
negative statements, as in popular Buddhist theology, can ring a bell.
1. We reject the Rule of the Mean. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.
and thus rings ineffability.
Concatenations #33
We DO speak about our magical thinking– in case you wanted to know, my brand-new Xbox ghosted me today at 3hrs 33min of playtime. I thought it might be broken.
I’d like to know these things, but I’d also like to heavily encourage my children to seek an understanding of empiricism and scientifically explained phenomena.
I think Sophia's grandmother, Larissa, has our number.
. . .
anyway the screen did a strange horizontal-lined pixelated thing and the Xbox crashed.
* reference: sneaky-link, "so many threes in my pocket."
Concatenations #33333333
A verse to the conventicle: Isaiah 34:16
I told a dozen or so friends around 2017-2018, “I want an arranged marriage.”
I had two magpies tattooed on myself in Nashville (2022) to signify a pledge to find my soulmate.
I saw Sophia’s name as a tattoo in red ink riding the bus past her bus stop minutes after screaming “GOD” to a murder of crows. (2024)
[sic]
. . .
Down to 21/278 entrants in the 33 dollar, 7,500 guarantee tournament dedicated to Larisa.
I wrote this just seconds ago and this is the very next hand:
>: - ( AJo v A9o, lost with 70% equity.
I had to put it in, was way behind and won!
C-bet flop, villain jammed, I hero called ftw
5th place for $549.04. The odds of the being dealt 33 as I dedicated this tournament to your grandmother Larisa is 6/1326 or 1/169, a fraction of a percent chance. I believe that she is with us. I hope you feel her presence, too. Thank you, Larisa.
I don't win very often, yet. I think I know what your Grandmother has in mind to do with the money. . .
Take her by the horns
The cowboy, the heifer, the wine
take her by the horns she who carries the world
“she doesn’t eat, she doesn’t eat without me.”
says the cowboy to the wine
he drinks and drinks until he needs her steadiness
“so grab her by the horns.”
says the wine to the cowboy
it waits and waits until it bubbles up and bursts
“so drink a little faster.”
says the heifer to the cowboy
she moo’s and moo’s, she who carries the world.
“let’s hurry to the waters and the grasses.”
says the cowboy to the heifer
he walks on a stiff wooden leg, his revolver fires a little heavier.
“let lay and him down die.”
says the heifer to the wine.
she nestles beside his heaving.
“I’ll look the other way.”
says the wine to the heifer.
Daddy number two
Father beats Daddy unless you’re in Daddy’s good graces and Mother beats Mommy unless you’re in Mommy’s good graces
Father beats Mommy and Mother can beat Daddy
the game is won with 2 video game consoles 2 pairs of summer shoes 2 new jeans
but it is not always both or sadness
Daddy number one
If something’s gotta go, something’s gotta go and something will change. Daddy is never too mean, but he can change his mind.
I’m always the worst cop, and that’s part of the job.
Mommy doesn’t give ice cream or bandages to wounded egos, but Mother can help heal wounded hearts.
Don’t worry about the bear
A math prodigy who hates school, takes his 3.3 to Vegas at seventeen with a fake ID he’s kicked Dad’s ass for 6 years in poker already, can Dad be that mad? wins the tournament for $65,000 (it was $215,000 to beat Dad) and I have to Venmo him bus money or pick him up penniless (from jail? I do not know). I’m most disappointed that he got banned from the casino. (“go to school in NJ and get a C average in business and I will bankroll you.”)
Daddy number three
Fresh to death starts with staying alive financially foundations of fresh-to-death'ness I’m thinking of fun ways to encourage thriftiness even to own a $700 t-shirt.
Gigi came to life at fifteen–smoked enough marijuana to look 21. she learned the bass, enough like the harp, we guess. and she’s out in an uber (mom, you’ve got it) to play at house shows. what do we do? I’d encourage her to commit social suicide with a massive fake IG account. hbu?
Daddy number four
We are witnesses of our generation if the president mimed it, I will say it in the home I will also abide by the knowledge that youth is in the mind.
I will slay them with ground-floor pop culture slay with my drip I am the GOAT I may also be the billy-goat give me a dirty look or something
I am sometimes called, “really sus,” I reckon it’s something like, “super gay,” so we need to translate.
Daddy number five
Without the Beatles without Bob Dylan seriously we don’t need to pretend to love 80’s Euro-trash lol i’m joking it’s fine babe im totally joking
look, I am simply unable to think of a simple solution except to be anal about sharing
So on rainy days there’s classical in the morning.
and any number of disgusting 2000’s Hip-Hop artists and dirty Trap cat DJ's in the weight room.
ok? capiche? I love you.
Sun and the moon kissed
Where were you the darkest day when sun and moon kissed touched lips only pinholes at life and its darkest day we’re two for a love, two for a joy to make our incredible unlived journey
This particular page has crashed in the editor. Thank you for reading this far.
Only the stars and the moon
Only the stars and the moon shed their light on how beautiful we could be only the trickle of sunlight to the dying man to the dying lady can be so shy, can be so timid.
They say the truth hurts
So I lied to you can you count how many words? can you count the days and nights I spent to lie to you?
If I could tell you that I love you
If I ask, “have we made it this far, have we made it as far as the knives we’ve buried? have we held on as the tone of the snare, and our hearts? can we wish another glance at each other, untraced by the wants of murder and regret? or life, what about life and forgiveness, if not forgetfulness, if not our hearts’ challenge to worry, to be healed and cured, if not carried to each other. carry us, won’t you? carry us. won’t you? won’t you?”
Blessings for a wish, prayer
I think listening to GOD is the best we can do. but hearing ourselves speak, sometimes we can be spoken through. and I wonder about a little ritual: counting blessings and making a wish around the dinner table.
Gregorian chant
If, but, when and where does our goddess go and when does she her eyes the doe and when does she (a bet I’ve made) I wonder at those big blue globes (I wonder at my net sentiment) won’t you tell me no? won’t you tell me no after an sixteen hour labor, no, no. tell me no and I secede my throne. (if in interest at my note, your mother might hold my jacket).
I want you to know, Mother
A prayer, a prayer I want read and listened to. does she carry two, does she carry one at most, please know it’s not impossible– regardless of anything that we will have all of them. and willing, if willing, maybe and again maybe, your father might help if he hears our story truly.
If it behooves you
To make a best friend, someone to dote on and to help our love grow inside, I am inside out in love with you to the end. dinners, and nails, flowers for both (though yours are greater in number and color and size and fixture) so I’m asking you once now that it’s on my mind, not to cry for yourself or for possibilities lost or for our world shattered, (though worlds can shatter) (and whole selves are lost) but keep her, keep her alive in your heart, keep her for us, that she should not be lost.
Husefate
Let me be whimsical like a whining brat, like a charcoaled chortling fool of a tundrum. (I’m 284 pounds now get lost) and a little cheesecake would be fine (is this how it’s going to be) I need to get onto my bicycle and throw up. (now look here, snorting) and there’s a bear-child, salmon berries delight salmon up-creek, I wonder (so if anybody’s going to be fat) so anybody’s fat now, huh! (yes, anybody’s fat) SO MOM! can we get ice cream? “no, you’re [a fatty]” agreed?
Concatenations (#7)
Do you understand that I understand sensitivity? I also have read a fair share of psych articles and a book of dreams and impregnation of the zeitgeist imo what I will not have are fat children as I am. they will be unhappy as I am. so, maintaining structured diet foremost however will they get their own candy every day yes. and then we call them chubby sometimes [question mark]
I won’t piss you off (but right now)
what is mild anorexia for top 2% income? I’m sorry.
but, what I don’t know is how I will tolerate an obese 6th grader I’m sorry
that doesn’t play football I’m sorry
Concatenations (#9)
Concatenations to you if such is true: your car brand is chosen for you.
Mercedes-Benz
What is a truck (a truck to haul very nice pre-owned furniture or IKEA) is it
A. $120,000 B. $35,000 does God Love Sophia?
yes, god loves all his creatures.
however, a model Y and a GLB both fit 7 and can and should be (in case of not being able to afford a nice pre-owned boat otherwise) employed as family vehicles.
I also really want a GLam Sophia but it starts at cars.
20k-40k miles if there’s a 30 year worry.
most people don’t even really have to reason 30+ years if they’re using tax deductible accounts and/or pensions
but we do
so if there’s not A US-SOIL-THREATENING WAR BUFFER/PLAN we’ll buy used vehicles.
hi my name is Dad and I have predicted a war: https://www.mbusa.com/en/share/build/A4PE4Z
Concatenations (#8)
Break the game, you may
You know that special forces guy that ran his first ultra-marathon, fracturing his foot and damaging his kidneys while at it?
13,000 pullups or poems I do not see why not
what is volume and steel music to my ears
this is the will that may be passed to our children
just to do something– it might be bouncing a golf ball on their elbow 34,000 times in a row
maybe they’ll walk an ultramarathon in shell cordovan boots to converse with the pigeons about how to found the next WeWork ✓
Lord knows, Lord cares
the point is that being absolutely bananas is to be encouraged by a courageous mother– being prepared to medicate– and being written about in the papers is not always a bad thing.
Mom’s ready?
Dad’s back hair
It seems like everyday now another shoot grows out of my back with the will to sire offspring. now, I may be your animal of a man, but I am getting both my whole back lasered (shit) or do not lie to me. . .
An Endless Walk (2022)
On an endless walk From where I sleep To where I dream,
The trees wave to me I walk ever more slowly To feel each pebble Underneath my sole
Hogs get slaughtered
If we’re not grateful, pigshit if we’re not happy, pigshit in a pigstie if we’re not looking forward to the future, pigshit in a pigstie with pigs rolling around why don’t we join them?
Sweetheart, I’m sorry
I cried too hard, I cried to hard bringing you flowers. I cried too hard, I cried to hard writing you poems. I cried to hard, I cried to hard making you playlists. I still cry for 5ever, my love. I don’t even want my kitten back from my mother because I’ve cried too hard. good experiences bring goodly measures. I’m not trying to hurt you, but I need a smile, too. I need to smile.
I bite my nails when I’m in love with you
I bite my nails because I’m afraid that you haven’t come clean, that you haven’t been willing to break cleanly and show me that I deserve as much, too. break cleanly and walk down
come down and offer me forever wake up and make the bed cookies, but not too often make me buy sushi with your card it’ll make me cough. . . but I’ll love you for it maybe you’re used to that, too. maybe you’re used to everything but I’m not, anymore.
Horses hooves
Horses hooves and crumpets and battle stories with sticks and brick and mortar dining? who’d want to leave this kitchen I swear the kitchen’s going to be so nice if you want a walk in wine cellar I want to make a second basement. and if you find any abhorrent memorabilia just know that I put your name right there next to mine.
The widows account
The widows account for nothing. they account for everything. they account for nothing. oh no, they account for every single thing. and they know nothing. they know everything. they know nothing. they know everything. they wonder at nothing.
Have I told you lately that I love you
It matters, doesn’t it? I’ll only say it again if you promise twice a day for the rest of your life. if you promise that the first time you don’t even mean it, and the second time you always do.
Find a reason
Can you find a reason to tell me, “I’m sorry.”? I can find a reason to say it to you.
Still
Would you still love me if I called you beauty? it was your name just yesterday, but you ran away, you left, and I’ll never say it again.
I lay awake in bed for days
I lay awake for days, I don’t know when I sleep, I don’t know when I wake up. I’m not him, I’m not the one that you wanted, somehow I know, I feel it deep, deep in my bones.
I cried my pride away
I slept it off until I wondered why I was ever alive at all. I have something for you, it got here in time. if its not too little, if you’d still take the little I have, is it too late? I’m waiting for a word from you, wond’ring when it will come.
What I wish I could have known -- for Larisa Muklanovich
I wish I could have known your grandmother’s eyes, the ones she kept for him. I wish I could know yours, softer than they could possibly be, softer than the watered ground. the watered earth speaks volumes. and your little face, those little smiles, the helpless smiles are your eyes. that tooth I love, I know that tooth, that tooth I love. give me something of regret, a least. give me something that time will not heal for you. I have its vase, there’s nothing in it, there’s nothing there. I have its shape in my mind’s eye, chaste and so open, terpene petals, little marbles, eyes of shards of– of myth and wonder, fortitude and forgiveness and creation. for missing something, strike me, whip me a thousand times for missing the light of her eyes.
It’s IKEA or permanent fixtures
Think woods. I need to know your favorite woods. it’s not something we get to change every few years, or that we have a different one for each season. one chance to make our perfect home, to get everything you ever wanted in one moment.
for the basement: https://newyork.craigslist.org/brk/fuo/d/brooklyn-fulham-leather-sofa-with/7896884893.html
I'd oil the whole thing a few shades darker.
Office?
Is there anything you like to “collect”
I need to vet you for value I like shell cordovan boots (depreciating) I like Swiss watches under $50k (appreciating) my collection might appreciate as a whole. there is researchable evidence to suggest so. are you listening to me?
honorable mentions for terrible investments: musical instruments, antique jewelry, alcohols and cigars
P.S. PENNIES ARE GOING OUT OF CIRCULATION. . . https://tinyurl.com/itiwbagtftcthptlaasfvlysm (These are upcoming "centennial" pennies. each one is approximately a seventy cents. I'm thinking a 50 pound bag of newer pennies for a classroom project/donation. Check out ebay). This would be a really cool thing for the children to be able to have fun with sorting for value in a decade. It would be a super fun teaching tool for investing.
Another idea is that the class can sort maybe a fraction of them for value and we can donate the proceeds to the classroom or school. Each student could keep a lucky penny or sell them back to me. I imagine the pennies turning 100 might sell well. . .
You could make the bulk of them a donation to our Genevieve's 1st grade math class. Many of the children probably won't have ever seen a penny.
I'm thinking about lifestyle and all of the factors that go into sustaining it over a period of decades. My dream is to have an entire year of impulse buying. We should still have rules. . .
1. Anything we've said we wanted for more than a decade is possible. . . 2. Tattoos. . . 3. If you want the jacket or the shoes, buy them (under $2,000. . .). 4. $2,500 two-and-a-half months reservation period dinners in NYC. Or we can try sending the manager the book with a note. . .
What are your favorite
1. table games 2. board games 3. do you like video games I will likely spend $500 on the next World of Warcraft just to sneak up on our children and beat them down. I do not want us to have sneaky spending habits–can you agree that $500 on one item is a forcibly-disclosable expenditure?
I assume you enjoy smoked gouda. a creamy gruyere? mm. mhmm. what about the little crystals in a years-old cheddar? mhmm. right. ok.
Before you wake up in the morning
Do you need coffee I need coffee sometimes before I speak. do you prefer light or dark? my current favorite is a dark Italian blend. . . . Starbucks. we are going to have a ridiculously nice coffee maker. it’s not because we need one. it’s because I need to make my old roommate whom I will hate forever jealous in spirit.
let's put it in the wall, baby. https://www.plessers.com/miele/cva7845cts
Waiter, excuse me
Do you have a *snap *snap in you? do you really? let’s see it in graceful style. . . right now. it starts at 25%.
Weirdest thing about me
I can’t shave face I can’t shave my face with a razor. however, I can use a straight razor.
I don’t have any more poetry
I’m poemed out but I’m so excited to see you there is no doubt. . .
