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Literature Text
There's a picture of you
in your tuxedo,
new wife on your arm and
you're only nineteen and
I am ashamed but
I wonder if she's pregnant.
And you are twenty two,
clothed in your bridal halo,
with a new-found surname
I can't pronounce.
We don't talk much but
I am happy for you.
You are headed towards fatherhood
and I've never met the mother, but
once you took me for a date and
things didn't click.
I can't help but wonder
if things were different,
if I would be
staring down that plus sign,
asking what the hell I was going to do
with two lives.
Even I am moving forward,
one year closer to the real world and
no longer playing dress-up
with my grown up clothes.
If my life was a chalk drawing,
the people in the background
would blur,
finding lives that are too different
to fit into mine.
I feel old,
looking at my past like its over my shoulder,
and innocent simplicity
is the wind knocked out of my lungs.
One day I will wake up and stare down the morning,
wondering when hours turned to minutes
and how yesterday died.
in your tuxedo,
new wife on your arm and
you're only nineteen and
I am ashamed but
I wonder if she's pregnant.
And you are twenty two,
clothed in your bridal halo,
with a new-found surname
I can't pronounce.
We don't talk much but
I am happy for you.
You are headed towards fatherhood
and I've never met the mother, but
once you took me for a date and
things didn't click.
I can't help but wonder
if things were different,
if I would be
staring down that plus sign,
asking what the hell I was going to do
with two lives.
Even I am moving forward,
one year closer to the real world and
no longer playing dress-up
with my grown up clothes.
If my life was a chalk drawing,
the people in the background
would blur,
finding lives that are too different
to fit into mine.
I feel old,
looking at my past like its over my shoulder,
and innocent simplicity
is the wind knocked out of my lungs.
One day I will wake up and stare down the morning,
wondering when hours turned to minutes
and how yesterday died.
Literature
if you have ghosts (you have everything)
my hands were blue and so was i
and i had everything:
a christmas tree
a guitar tuned by humidity
a dark library underneath my pillow
and a voice whose words jerk, jut
and stab quietly into one another
so i may never understand;
it was two AM, dawn of a decade
and here a ghost has me motionless in 1933.
--
i never met my grandfather till today--
he dies in 1975
and in 2020 he is born
at the bottom of a drawer in the kitchen,
his coffin and crib:
he is swaddled in moth-eaten dishtowels by a nameless undertaker
(or perhaps an autophagic author himself);
his crib and coffin:
he is buried a lifetime
(deaf to my cacophonous lifetime et ceter
Literature
Alchemy
Years of inhaled graphite
compressing in your lungs;
from curling cursive curses
to painful paneled pictographs.
Breathe in.
Breathe o u t.
Breast rise and fall.
Recall - - Reprise.
Now,
feel the coda,
taste the diamonds
dancing on your tongue.
Literature
ISO 8601
it is Wednesday all day until it isn’t. never had much attachment to the days before now, saw them as the headings for collections of twenty-four novellas – who remembers days in memories? it is always the weather, the time, how your shoes pinched, how the birds sang, a memory is a picture of a thousand pieces kept in a box marked Friday. inconsequential until it isn’t anymore. the world ended in such a drawn-out way, you started counting down the days – not the hours and not the nights, weather and windfall, the absence of birds, the pinch of the solar system, all inconsequential. instead, those novellas penned in the last weeks of the world were just endless lists of Monday, Monday, Monday. Wednesday, Thursday, Sunday – unpicking forgotten gods from the roots, scalpel- wielding philologists finding poetry in phonemes and semantics. centuries of human evolution summarised in a chain of seven words: the order, the gods, the shared linguistic genes, the music,
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Everybody's growing up. It's weird.
Comments32
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I love that: "I feel old, looking at my past like it's over my shoulder, and innocent simplicity is the wind knocked out of my lungs." I could almost feel the emotion in that bit.... wonderful. <3