Thursday, March 22, 2012


beat it, paulie, 
her breast hid away,
beat it, i don’t want you around,
edgar, listen,
(such a funny name for a breast, edgar)
listen, edgar, 
my name isn’t paulie, 
i don’t have a name, 
but you can call me paulie,
I am really you,
you're looking at yourself,
this is me that is you,
in a mirror, a mirror doesn’t have a name either,
it's everyone she meets,
I am you, she is us,
we are the same.
edgar couldn’t understand.
he was more like a can on the streets of a windy town,
or like a little bully called frank who grows up to be a disco bodyguard,
or like cocoa milk getting cold on the window sill,  
he reacted, but couldn’t understand more than a garden chair would.
breasts are beasts without ‘r’s, 
beasts without hours,
hours without beats,
beats without skips,
skips without hops,
hopes without dreams.
breasts are beasts from dreams skipped in no hour’s beat.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

we're going to delphi.

i had done something bad, but not bad bad, more like kid bad, and all these people at this horrible dinner party were playing games in twos and purposely left me out. so i started playing with this cat they had in the house and they were paranoid about it getting killed, and the cat, to piss me off and get me into more trouble, opened the back door somehow, and there, right there, waiting, was this big fat cat who hated her the most and wanted to annihilate it. they started this massive chase and at times cat fur would fly here and there, and i screamed and everyone screamed back at me thinking i'm the boy who cries wolf to take them away from the game, especially this boy i had come with, he was being so silly. but the cat was saved so we left, and outside, on what looked like a building site, some woman asked from afar for directions and i realized we were in india. then i got contact lenses and i was on a bicycle and i couldn't see so well.  

Tuesday, March 06, 2012

i am as old as i am young

getting old is but an instant.
that instant it takes to finish your breakfast 
- during which time you heard a good story you laughed at
maybe had some muesli
an apple
a coffee with too much sugar -
and then one day you look down at your hands
- the same hands that held the spoon to your muesli
or the apple to your core
or the laughter to your mouth -
and you get scared. you don’t recognize your own hands.
you go to the mirror and you don’t recognize the mirror.
you are in someone else’s house.