All the Pretty Girls on a Saturday Night

I want to drift into blanket layered slumber,

but I think about "all the pretty girls on a Saturday night."

The ones I don't have,

or the "five star chick,"

that I think I need.

but at least they are fantasies who I've yet to meet.

This very early morning--today looks hopeful.

And so does tomorrow,

because I forgot to put all the stuff in my bag

that I think I need.

I like having a light bag.

I can go places with this bag.

My favorite poem of the last two years and maybe ever.

Today I feel like Jack Gilbert.

Michiko Dead

BY JACK GILBERT

He manages like somebody carrying a box

that is too heavy, first with his arms

underneath. When their strength gives out,

he moves the hands forward, hooking them

on the corners, pulling the weight against

his chest. He moves his thumbs slightly

when the fingers begin to tire, and it makes

different muscles take over. Afterward,

he carries it on his shoulder, until the blood

drains out of the arm that is stretched up

to steady the box and the arm goes numb. But now

the man can hold underneath again, so that

he can go on without ever putting the box down.

The beauty in sadness

Was that Cliché? I love Arcade Fire.

Arcade Fire-Crown of Love

They say it fades if you let it,
love was made to forget it.
I carved your name across my eyelids,
you pray for rain I pray for blindness.

If you still want me, please forgive me,
the crown of love is fallen from me.
If you still want me, please forgive me,
because the spark is not within me.

Parallel Lines

Sometimes I feel like saying Lord I just don't care,

but who has the love I need to see me through?

It's not you anymore.

We're not even close enough for you to keep the comment

that I posted on your wall yesterday.

I saw your picture and I said...

Hey I used to know that person.

But I don't anymore.

You're a stranger to me,

and where once I hoped to see you,

to share stories, have drinks,

enjoy meals, and experience life's comings

now I dread seeing your face.

I'm scared shitless of it,

because I know the awkwardness

and the forced conversations that I will try and create.

All that remains are memories that I know you

are so desperately trying to erase.

And what remains for me are memories.

Memories of a friend that I no longer have.

Goodbye my friend.

If I see you from a distance, I'll pretend that I didn't.

I'll walk on by and hope that you didn't notice me,

because our paths will never cross again.

I Hope I Don't Fall Asleep With My Glasses On!

My caffeinated consciousness will not let me rest.

I lay and type, and I ponder the decisions that will decide

the horrid immediacy that is everything upcoming.

Even more so I think about no longer laying

like a Lego that is scattered afar from matching pieces.

Why do I no longer pray, and look for answers

that come in the form of an odd shape in my eggs,

or the dirt pattern on my shoe,

or that fucking cup of coffee?

That coffee, that was heavenly,

and maybe I described it so for a reason.

Or maybe the tangible taste meant more to me than

box top riddles, or tragic happenings

that people just assume are meant for the better,

so that they can cope with the crappy conundrums

that we call bits of suffering.

Ah please matching Lego pieces where could you be?

Where are the pieces that allow me to connect

to others that are shaped similar in size?

Of course there is the one that is shaped so perfectly,

that my piece will conjoin with it

in a union of stability.

And our pieces will strengthen

our pending project.

Traveling

My eyes are no longer closed
To the foreign possibilties of worlds so far.
Yet I cannot travel to these realms,

because I have not yet met my guide.
Do I need to seek her in some alcohol infested island?
Perhaps she awaits in a sweaty disco dance state.
Maybe I'll find her in the least likely of places.
A place where intellect meets servitude

to ideas I don't want in my head.
Or even radomly on a concrete treadmill.
Wherever this mysteriously lovely guide is

I will wait in longing.
The things we will discover will only be surpassed

by the majesty of our experiencing the unity of a nation.
A nation of two.
Undivided by God
or shades,
or bits of paper.
We will believe in the socialism of each other,

and experience moments of unparalleled happiness,

that will make the nerves of our countries tremble.

Can't Sleep Lonely Haikus

Life without you sucks.

I do not like this feeling.

Always my heart hurts.