a lesson each day

every day comes with a lesson.
a lesson lost, a lesson learned.
a lesson of beauty; or one of lessening.
here it goes, as so:

i watched you; contemplating the movements and motions of others
thinking: you are without ability to externalize your thoughts.
there i was, entranced by you, all of you
before you made your grand entrance
each and every last tiny flinch made and flaw placed on your nameless face
there is no admiration, no cherishing i wish to share


weight of it all

"my soul is a chickpea?"


summer shoes.

taking off my old summer shoes
& my socks, they're cuffed, with
linings of dirt
finding that your timing
may have been true
my summer shoes, fit just right,
like you.


the marvel of marx.

the trees are planted by the hands of many,
but the seeds to reproduce are grasped in the palms of very few.


to whom it all concerns.


perplexing, entrancing, rhythmic, & romancing.
loving, loathing, living, & controlling.
lostlogic, nostalgic, breathing & knowing.

who am i, who am i?


failing fallen

When you go places where everyone looks like movie stars; even miniuture ones, they sound just like them, too.
It's sickening to the bone almost because you know they aren't living the life of "me" they're living the life of someone they saw on tv. some old broad's broadway show. some pop star joke. they don't know who they are just act like her, talk like him, walk like them.
Time to get on, get by, and make something more useful out of your time.
She's just a shadow of someone who passed her by
& there's no one more useless in my eyes


the figs.

"From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and happy home and children, and another fig was a famous author and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Re Lee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Asia and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and off-beat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out."

From Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar"
edited a bit to suit moi.
photo from sweet space.