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It’s bright out here on the West Coast.
Blog is the noise a bridge troll makes.
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Your kiss is a gift
Unripe mango on my tongue
Between my teeth
A hot surprise
A song with my name
As the title and chorus
Sweet as the sea
Tampoco dulce
But I seek it like craving
Blood in water
Scented by a shark
All mouth and gut
My body can’t hold
Onto salt or your kiss
Constantly replenishing
How you taste
Gastado en mis labios
Tantalus never expected
To taste your fruits
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Five Seconds
I don’t need time
Time flies like corpses
And bodies of water
Flood and drain
From the tub it’s
Too dirty to drink
The water in valleys
Of flesh pressed close and
Fresh pressed clothes
Smelling of you
Washed with you
Hang on me heavy and
Wet shirts on a line
Of snow in the late night
Train running every thirty minutes
Behind every time we meet
To eat our words and food
Is never as filling as
You and I don’t need time
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Insulation
soft, heavy, wet like oil.
remember the feeling
of walking in front
or behind, out of water,
a fish. in one handful,
the rosemary you keep,
in one fistful, my hair
after you cut it, or before.
when we die, after the pause,
lingering and awkward, of living
it’ll be as old men and women,
bodies melted together,
false teeth clenched, gnashed.
youthful demise beyond us
tensile strength fled
sucking in oxygen and scent
filling lungs that sting and throb
jellyfish in a body sea.
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qui qui quise
two oaks crawl, first their roots,
marrow in their low branches,
teeth in each craggy opening.
a jay preys upon his own kind,
taking advantage of every kindness,
hustling his brethren for their brittle eggs.
children gather ‘round a farmhouse
on fire, the way they’d lean close to
an old relative, depredador,
Leaning away, but straining to hear his dry whisper,
the rasping murmur of house cum kindling.
bees purr as they cluster around and in
the open petals of young blossoms,
sweet and soft and beckoning.
my hands are leaves that happen to catch
drops of water from pendulous clouds
my hands are a den, dark home
for your dormant frame, vast and warm
my hands are mouths, all gums and tongue,
teething, as a child
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Waterward, we soar along the ground like beetles
but floating, legs up and curled toward our invulnerable bellies
Beneath us, purpose and direction,
an army of half-men, fraction-men, empty-men
that tows us artlessly along
Without art, the men haul us, or rather pass us down the assembly line
Feet unmoving, hands swaying back and forth above their half-heads.
Our bodies pass cities, buildings, dandelions turned to seed,
Weeds overtaking a flower bed.
We reach the waterfront, the sea cliff,
and instead of being safely stored, tucked away, to be eaten,
we are cast, without hesitation, into an ocean
vast, and fluctuant.
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Every time I walk toward
the projects/ I have to accomplish that day,
después de la mañana mojada,
warm inside and out
I give up another thing
I enjoy. I thank
for a moment, feel thankful
and let another delight drift
happily away from my heart.
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Art Making
Romantic
Large, bigger than anything
Still growing
Indebted
To everyone, including myself -
Valentine’s Day.
I am youngry. I need something to meat. Smash the steak, breads on pikes. Choking and coffeeng on the smoke(d salmon) from peoples figarettes. You scream, ice cream, planes crash, and children go youngry.
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The poster for Jessie’s birthday, Seaweed Sway Showcase at Makeout Room (SF) is coming along. Should be finished by tomorrow.
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This song stirs up my insides, it’s like a call to arms. I feel like I’m being reminded to open up to arousal and carousal, youth and the freedom of institutionalized opportunity. There are a few of these songs that beat a drum to the stomp of my boots. They feel like love songs.
(Source: youtube.com)
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Turning wheels, making things beautiful.
Exploring a new city with eyes closed, ears open. I need to strain this sweet tension from my person through my skin, like a sieve. I’m wrapped in cheese cloth, filled to brimming.
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HEY TUMBLR’ERS! If you re-blog this image you’ll get the chance to win a year long subscription of postcards. I’ll be picking one person at random on February 28th, so re-blog before then!
(Note: If you decided not to chance it and paid for a subscription AND re-blogged this photo you’re not only awesome, but you also could be reimbursed for your subscription if you win!)
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Theme: Linear by Peter Vidani
