untitled
It is too late now.
Gurgle, bubble, fizzle, brap!
Angry guts of mine.
just think, type, submit.
every poem is anonymous.
i would like to apologize for forgetting about this blog for a while.
i'm going to do my best to try and make it work like it once did.
on a couple of side notes, everyone should go to Sunny Outside Press and get Hosho McCreesh's new book of poems, "For All These Wretched, Beautiful, & Insignificant Things So Uselessly & Carelessly Destroyed..." because it's amazing and he has supported the 5/7/5 project, so it's only fair that he gets support from us.
and of course, if you haven't ever checked it out, head on over to the GPP and see what they're all about.
tell your friends.
think, type, submit.
5/7/5
at
8:24 AM
as the last light of
the afternoon stretches cat-
like across his face
she is feigning sleep--
like some demi-deity,
thinking: this is good.
at
6:14 PM
instead of trying
to fix the things we've done, let's
just try something new
at
8:47 AM
why i'll never be
a writer of poetry
or prose is easy
when it comes time to
save the thoughts in my head i
click "delete" instead.
at
1:01 PM
he was twenty year
old boy, who lived with girl in
small Mars colony.
she completed him,
once. Lost, High, alone, broadcast
from Mars Shuttle Five
Lighting cigarettes
as the last hover sailboat
made port and anchored.
sense of adventure
defeats standard high jinks of
counting revolutions.
what takes overboard?
watching the Suns rise and set
create and destroy.
passion sustains them
mid rage and then comity.
she sees right through him.
or, more precisely
the view from the Solitude
of her escape ship.
grasp this concept now:
wife gone, no why or how. he'd
go if she'd allow.
struggle to see what's
simple to me, don't you know?
"i can't let you go."
d u a l i t y killed
the man. "forget about her."
no one understands.
hints where she went?
declared, "See You Space Cowboy...
Spike for President."
at
1:57 PM
i tend to lie when
i say i'm okay, so you
should know cloudy days
are the worst, not because
of the grey, but because they
used to be yours, love.
at
8:18 PM