Saturday, November 26, 2011

Score is 1

I must NOT find a way back, for it hurts too much to be in this 
burning,
scattered, 
shattered, 
unpieced body


photography by Ellen Stagg
whole set is featured on www.staggstreet.com

Monday, November 21, 2011

Across from you sits a girl

Do you look away? Or do you continue watching as your heart wells up for her. Her body is positioned stiffly, she seems too painfully self aware. You think you caught her eyes moist. Do you begin to fantasize what you would do for her if she let you? Do you want her eyes to look at you so ever intently yet quizzically as you enter and exit her body? If you could keep her forever would that warm you and lesson the way your mind paces and the ever present boredom of your heart? And would you grow to love her even more every day as she sits at your table and lays in your bed? You may recognize she runs deeper than you even thought. Her face becomes so familiar and necessary, that you  can't even imagine what it would be like if it were gone. Then you begin to realize she needs you more than you thought, and perhaps that begins to frighten you. You begin to touch her less, it begins to not sit right with you. You begin to think about dating again, real dating, grown women, who although don't move your heart as much, take less out of you. Soon you think, you might be able to write this whole situation off as a comical mistake. You now go out more often. You bring women back with you, hoping they would leave as soon as they arrived...well as soon as the deed is done. You still  talk to her, you realize you never heard how high her pitch was, how she was always trying to sound light and burdenless




photography by Steve Reganato

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

A vulgarity I can't romanticize

getting "fucked" (in third person...)
a stuffed little pig, a drunken girl as someone masturbates himself in her.


photography by John Klukas

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

When you've lost your last friend

you may walk like you're drunk, but really your legs just don't care. Body sways to the left and then the right, "vrrrrrvrrrrrvrrrr" the sound of your thigh against the metal wire fence. A green playground bench I sat on, shivering, before taking the long walk home. I think about losing my last friend again. Wait. For a tiny moment I feel a little light. Like the times I visited the tiny beach by myself on a tiny part of Long Island when I was in high school. I was shackled for so long before then and this feeling was so tasty. I can be alone, by myself. By the water no less. Reading a book that temporarily heightens these delightful feelings even even more. I feel connected to the universe. Oooh, no! Don't step in that. I'm back on the sidewalk, swaying like a drunk, almost stepped in dog shit. This whole neighborhood is full of it. I saw the Sanitation Department man give a ticket to the owners of the pitbulls on my block two weeks ago. My block has been in the clear ever since. But it will change back. I take the opposite walking  route to the train now to avoid the dog shit on the other blocks. But its everywere, lurking, pretending to be symbolic.




photography by Dusdin Condren

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Your mind was dormant

and then, daily, for about a month full of days, it started c l e a r i n g. your eyes. lucidity evolved inside slowly but steadily, and so did yourself. all the vulgarity throughout. but the sky is blue now. it was always blue, but now it's really blue. oh, and the pomegranate too! so robust but with tepid flavor! you can taste it better now. you can taste it so much better now! you can also feel it better. the rage, i mean.

 
photography by MC Photo
with Palesaent