Monday, January 19, 2009

I wanted to punch through the night but i couldnt make a fist

i broke bones
for you
just to sign
my cast

bone white plaster
decorated with your
purple pen

your name
carved into my arm
a heart dotted i
your name
first and last and

shattered in three places they said
may never regain full movement
purple ink
heart dotted i

so many failed attempts
climbing trees
and jumping off swings
I will not fail you

skin bleeding but not to break

until that day

i walked into the street with
must have been
words in my head
and carving knife in hand

i remember tires squealing
the burning smell
of rubber
staring into a cotton candy

the knife i used to carve
in the
where we once

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Darlin' you'll be the ruin of me

my paper heart:

I carried a legal-pad in my backpack, striking yellow paper. It was the sun and star to beautiful to pervert with words. My spastic cursive turning beauty to chaos. I hated my language for ruining the silence of such delicate pages. The right words elusive or never enough. It's as simple as a drawn heart.

I scribbled my signature over and over in the margins.
In the middle of the page her name. mine. They looked good next to each other.
I started a letter:
Dear you,
will you ever notice me?

Wisdom teeth:

there was a girl in class who never spoke. she was pretty and shy and her hair was golden curls. You could tell she didn't like people much. I think she was scared. I think i fell for her mystery. I think she became and instant muse for me. She could talk I'm sure of it, she just never did.
the teacher called on her and she would open her mouth but nothing came out. An uncomfortable silence. In the seat directly behind her, I would hold my breath. Minutes seemed like hours seemed like days, and the teacher waited.
" Okay, maybe tomorrow?"
finally I would breathe.

Our favorite record skips:

Do you carry around ghosts? I wonder are you anything like me. Do your wisdom teeth hurt? What is the sweetest thing you've ever tasted? I carry around ghosts, I talk to them. If i could get you to say something. If i could hear your voice. Is it husky like girls who work in offices or on t.v.? Is it soft and slight like a bee? Here is my phone number. show me where you keep your honey. Don't be afraid to call or I could call you if it's easier. You don't have to write me back. Not words anyway, just numbers. I'll trade you poetry for math.
Are you good at math? count up the letters in our first names, subtract 2 and add one. If it's an even number then we were meant to be lovers, if it's odd, lovers then enemies. do you like to have your fate decided?


Dear you,
I saw you take one of my birds home. Did you look inside? Did it make you think of me? I am the boy who sits behind you. I am silent too. Will you keep it in your room? did you know it was all for you? the birds, the notes, were all for you. this is for you.
"okay, maybe tomorrow?
let me breathe.

I folded notes into yellow paper cranes. It's something I do with letters never sent. feelings kept inside with sharp edges folded and tucked. write, fold, fly.
I left them in all my classes, everyday, on desks, in the lunch room, on the bus, I hung them in trees. hundreds maybe thousands set free. questions with no answers. my paper heart has wings. I am the boy who sits behind you. I want us to unfold. read me. ruin me for all others.


Tuesday, January 6, 2009

2008: From before and today

culture reject brown bird

These are my choices for best albums of 2008.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

it ends
it starts
it ends
it starts





no tomorrow