Tenleytown

I have not been
Sleeping so well
I would prefer not to be
Persecuted for my nightmares
It's not like I selected them
Carried and corrected them
Rather, I gather and cultivate
The robotic and the reprobate

I replace pinwheeled decorations, numerically descriptive
With inappropriate behavior
Colored by lonely penny-ante poems
I used to ask her to read them aloud
I'd sit there pensive, nervous, but proud
And if she'd get the accents and inflections wrong
I'd remember it's the singer not the song

Sad refrain:
Except when it's the song
Except when it's the song
It's always the song
Always the sad sweet severance song
You got it wrong baby, always perfect and wrong

I have not been

Accepting of fate

Throat-clearing as I spit

An "it's not too late" at the audience

If you don't see them there

They're a ghost of a guy with a gun and a girl

And another girl with glittery eyes

And their cats and their kids and mittens and hats

They applaud as the reading comes to a close

They applaud as the moment sweeps to an end

They applaud as the loved one sneaks away softly

As the one who loves him looks down

And the one who doesn't nods and says to his face

You have not been accepting of fate

Because you and I agree on this

Fate is just future; future is just dots on a grid

Together they crooned and capped on the clever kids

Of which they were two

But they is I and he is she

The one who does is the one who doesn't
A is B and C is D

Everyone is one and the same

I should be as lucky

To be as joyful

As the two kids in the D.C. subway

Coming back from a Joe Cocker concert

In 2003, didn't they know Joe was old enough to be their dad?

As they first-kissed their first-date into the deep dark tunnel

They disembarked at Tenleytown

November 27 and November 30, 2009

Bags

We all have a tote bag phase
We all have a duffel bag stage
We all have a "throw your hands up / don't have the right bag" year of our lives
As we long for the totes
As we yearn for the duffels
And sin plenty for the range of our years
But you know, now ain't the time for our tears

November 19, 2009

Stereolab 5

I've listened to Stereolab in a dark car on a dark street
In a basement of a college I belonged to at the time
In an attic of a full house in a long street of a half-town
In my office at home, when I had an office at home
In my office at work. I have an office at work
These are the times
I've listened to Stereolab
Five times, the other times I wasn't really listening

November 12, 2009

29 Homes in 21 Cities (revised)

See the blog for an illumination


We worked it out
I come from Eskilstuna where the kiosks come up
I come from Alexandria where the asphalt was invented
I come from Teaneck with its sharks in quicksand
I come from Feasterville so you have no upper upper hand

We called it out
I come from Bergenfield where the floods did come
I come from New Milford where no children smile
I come from River Vale with its bushes of baseball bats
I come from Doylestown so you best not relax

We tore it up
I come from Eden Prairie where the warmth is palatable
I come from Eden Prairie again where the earth is flat
I come from Brea with its music 'til four in the morning
I come from Minneapolis where swift lifts make for soft pulls

We made it shiny
I come from Pomona so all your threats are empty, empty
I come from Pasadena where the ping-pong is dusty
I come from Monrovia where hearts are down and dusky
I come from Newbury Park with its two exits

We pulled it back
I come from North Hollywood so I know about coming from
I come from North Hollywood again and its ski lodge aspirations
I come from Ventura where the U-Hauls skulk
I come from Amherst where on the twelfth day we rise

We cleaned clocks
I come from Eden Prairie again so you best believe I linger
I come from Eden Prairie again with its misreading of the future
I come from Minneapolis again with its disappeared
I come from Minneapolis again with its so you never stood a chance

We pushed it out
I come from Minneapolis again with its owned not rented
I come from Santa Monica where nothing bad ever happens
I come from Santa Monica again where the rain is unending
I come from Hollywood where the helicopters haunt me

We rattle easily, no
I come from Long Beach so you know why we do what we do when we do what we do

We broke it down
We made a run
We wait it out
We have it all
I...

Written October 5 and October 27, 2009

Devil's Treason

I'm nothing if not timely
With my timeless salutations
That get you right there
And split your brain halves, like yolk from white
Uneven, odd colors, and is that a fable book?
That you hold in your hand like a cannibal's meal hand?
Unknown resister to reason
Guess what, that's the devil's very treason

October 27, 2009

Unincorporated East Lost Angeles #3

She talks about that one dead end
As if it's hallowed ground and not the edge of town
Where the city stops so the pavement stops
She thinks there's buried bones there
She may be right but no one's digging any time soon

The stories she tells
As the excitement swells and sweats
They're as true as a shy man's wedding vows
All bent toward great heights
Invented at the moment
Aroused and uninvited
She calls cameras
She stalls camera crews
The regional news
Gives her a segment

I think of that parking lot
As hope unearthed
Dashed and cursed
Speed bumps 'til the fence and forest
So dense. So warm. So porous
I wish we had more space and time
Fewer power cords, fewer shoes
Cotten swabs and rotten jobs
A trade off, one and not the other
Blood angel, two mothers
No fathers, a galaxy of pixelations
October 23, 2009

Double Mono

Stretch your back
Kick your shoes off
There's a soft spot
On the floor, over there, in the low blocks
Evermore, tide to shore, on the black rocks

He calls her absurd, a martyr's marking time
Scrolling up and down and all around the quiet town
The one with the half-good reputation
For handsome girls with shadow puppet shapes

The furnaces are big and brown
The steam engines head uphill, crosstown
Halos don't appear because halos don't exist
Fiery tempers make the feeblest fists

Close your eyes
Hold your hands out
Fold the flaps in
Now your hands go back out
You never closed your eyes

October 9, 2009