if you can't be mine you will never be yours

i saw she had a sticker book under her desk. I just wanted to see it, so i took it when she went to sharpen her pencil. It was kind of sad because there wasn't much in it, a few pages of junk stickers and nothing else. Still, I ended up shoving it in my book bag. i liked her so much that i couldn't stop treating her mean.

At the end of class I saw her looking all over for the book, of course she blamed me. I had thrown her markers out of the window, one by one earlier in the week. The teacher didn't see and she didn't tell. But, this time she was really angry, she got all red in the face and even started crying. I told her i didn't have her stupid sticker book, what would i want with some ugly girls crappy stickers. she kicked me, hard and I deserved and half liked it. the bell rang again and it was the end of school.

i rode a bike home and on my way i stopped at the candy store. they had stickers. the good kind. the cool kind. hologram and scratch n stiff, snoopy and garfield, unicorns, rainbows, ...everything. I had money. I sold candy at school. I'd split up hubba bubba and bubble yum packs and sell them 25 cent a piece. Starbursts, Now and Laters, Jolly ranchers - they were my best sellers.

When she came into class the next day the book was on top of her desk . she glared at me, but i could tell she was excited to have it back. It was fun watching her open it, check to see if i messed anything up. I had spent half the night filling the entire book with the coolest stickers i could find. I made her cry again, but it was the good kind I think.

I live with another , i stole from her lover

it's hard for me to sit still, i need to go for a drive. I can't shake this, whatever this thing is lately. me knowing or me not knowing. silently being silent.

if i can get settled, I'd like to read later. I'd like to read to her. I checked out four new books from the library. It's still early and these empty roads could be a sign of better days. I like driving like this way: a pad and pen on the passengers seat. a book of zen quotes, a knife, pepper spray and a map to disneyworld under my seat.

love. i used the word love in a letter last evening. I don't want to write or receive any letter that doesn't have the word love written somewhere in it. preferably not just at the end.

love,
me

blind

the rain cleared . clouds puffy with gray middles. I take a walk along the bike path near my house. towering power lines, trees, a lake, dog shit. industry and nature. I wonder if i could make it living up in the woods somewhere. maybe, i think, with a satellite dish and a store not more than 20 miles away. I worry if there is no hospital nearby. I worry there isn't someone to save my dog from a snake bite or to stitch a wound I might receive from a bear. the problem is i worry. I think. I finish the walk not having heard or seen a single thing.

romantico sin esperanza

i know what i am for you.
what we are
for each other.
heartbeats.
warm skin.
small bruises.
maybe,
a few marks yet left
to heal?

untouchable.
out of reach.
distance.

soul fuck.
mind fuck.
a drug.
liars.
monday's.
believers.

addiction.

dirty sex.
hopeless romantics.
obsession.
superstitious.

love at first site.

road trips.
photographs.
hotel rooms.
maps.
last kisses.

wonder.

silence.

more
or
less

these

few words

on blank
page

make me your bruise

I told you to wait until after the rain stopped and then let's meet in the back- yard. we took off our shoes so that we could feel the wet grass under our feet. i took your hand and you thought looking back now, this is bittersweet, sad, this is like some kind of dark poetry in a pale blue light. make me your bruise, a sigh in a warm rain, bleeding. It's bullshit. It's bad fiction.

the fact that we had to wait at all or that i could ever wait. that once could ever be enough. that i would forget any of this. we rode our bikes in the rain, it was warm as blood and everything seemed rusted. the rains come and then the storms. this is our snow: thunder, leaves falling, a break in the sky, summer down pours and lightning.

I told you if it ever got to hard. I told you to tell me your secrets and if it was hurting bad enough I would take you away. I could make you safe from them.

your bike was pink with white streamers and mine was green. banana seat, chrome sissy bar, playing cards between the spokes held in place by clothes pins. Jokers and and aces wild, the Queen of hearts for you, your favorite and the king of diamonds, mine. Our tires rubbed and bumped when we got to close to each other, racket from the cards coming down the street like engines, like machine gun fire. Your hair wet and stringy in your face like spilled ink.


where was it that you showed me your bruises? was it in the woods , was it at your house in your room?. Why was no one ever home? and tell me again where he touches you at night.
we laid down in the bathtub together when the storm came in. I was caught over your house and couldn't get home. the phone didn't work, no t.v. We thought the roof would come off, we thought the walls would cave in. Or was it that you wanted close to me?

I got in first, cold white porcelain touching my back through shirt and then you on top. The thunder made you scared and edgy. your shoulders were small, bony and then i saw the bruises. you shifted your weight, like a whisper and said it would feel better if you moved like this and it did. lighting. crash of thunder. An ACDC song in my head. closer now and the wind, and my promise.

show me where the gun is. I'll do it. So he'll never hurt you again. she only heard the rain hitting the tin roof of the old shed out back.drowning my hearts desire. Bang- bang- bang- bang. she found the spot where shadows hide inside of me. she pressed herself into it, moving, faster and then faster. slow and then slower. a sigh, the warm rain bleeding. she was crying. weeping softly i thought. but now I'm not so sure.

Lucky 13: INTERVIEW: MIKE EGAN - ARTIST

Mike Egan - Artist, from Pittsburgh, Pa. Has worked in funeral homes for the last several years. His Artwork tends to deal with life, death and religion. Mike shows us the light through darkness. Paying respect to folk- style inspirations while giving us a new heartfelt view into his world of first hello's and last goodbyes. His work is already inspiring tattoos and the future holds great things as we sink deeper into the core of his mind and view the portraits of his soul.


GOODWINTER:First, tell us a little about yourself, where you grew up and how and when did you become interested in art?
MIKE EGAN: I live and grew up in Moon Township which is just outside of
Pittsburgh, PA. I started drawing in kindergarten, so I was like 6 or 7 at the time.

GW: who are some other artists you enjoy?
EG: I love The Date Farmers, Neckface, Margaret Kilgallen, The Clayton
Brothers, Richard Colman, Ben and Andy Kehoe, Rob Larson,
Joe Bruce, ThinkMule, Fred Stonehouse, the list goes on and
on...

GW: does music play a roll in your paintings? Do you listen while you paint? Could you give us a play list or bands you are currently playing?.
ME: Yes, I love music!!! I listen to all types of music when I paint, here is what I've been
listening to:
And you will know us by the trail of dead
Murder city devils
Chuck Ragan
The Chariot
Handsome Furs
Banner Pilot
Aesop Rock
Band of Horses
The Walkmen
Girl Talk


GW: do you believe in an afterlife?
ME: I believe in Heaven and Hell, however I believe in ghosts
too.

GW: Tell us about Pittsburgh, the town where you live and how it's influenced your art?
ME:Pittsburgh is the best, the people of this city are very hard working. There are a lot
of working class neighborhoods and a lot of different ethnicity. Pittsburgh is loaded with old churches, bars and funeral homes, which all influence my work. Oh and our
football team is pretty sweet too!!!! * 2008-9 Super Bowl Champions *

GW: What was your favorite Halloween costume as a kid?
ME: I always loved the classics, Skeletons and Devils.

GW: Tell us a movie that almost everyone you know has seen but you havent?
ME:I hate to admit this but I never sat down and watched The Godfather.
How embarrassing....

GW: What are some of your favorite horror films?
ME: Oh boy...I love Friday the 13th, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw
Massacre, Evil Dead, Devil's Rejects, etc.

GW: have you ever seen a ghost?
ME: Never saw one, but certainly heard some noises when I worked in funeral homes.

GW: It's just around corner so I have to ask, St. Patricks day what do you do? and why I haven't seen any lucky shamrocks in your work yet?.
ME: I'm working on it!! I usually go out for a few pints of Guiness with my friends.

GW: If you were to look for the ultimate of inspiration and you could go anywhere. where would you choose to go?
ME: Honestly, I would go to a nice quiet beach where no one would bother me so I could sit and work.

GW:What character from the Wizard of Oz do you most identify with?
ME:The dog, I don't really like to talk much.

GW: you've said: "I like to think that each painting is in some way a good bye to somebody who passed away. A funeral portrait." What was your art like before working in Funeral homes? And who would you like to paint your funeral portrait?
ME: My work has always had a dark theme running through it. The only
thing that is different is that I'm a better artist now. I look at my old stuff and I'm not too sure what I was thinking. I would definitely have The Clayton Brothers do my portrait.


GW: Tell us about the symbols and numbers used in your paintings?
ME: Well I use the number 77 because I was born in 1977. It's my way of putting myself in the paintings. I'll use 7s for good luck and 13s for bad luck. I also like to use tons of crosses as a form of protection.

GW: most prized possession?
ME: Um...I would say old photographs of my family.

GW: What's your biggest fear?
ME: That I will fail as an artist, people will stop showing interest in my work.

GW: Tell us what drives you crazy?
ME: Women!!!

GW: I easily envision your work as stained-glass pieces- in what other ways has the Church influenced your work? And would you ever consider a collaboration with a stained-glass artist?
ME: I love religious artwork and going into old churches. Working with a stained glass artist would be great, I'd love to do that!!

GW: In what direction are you heading with your art, where are you taking it?
ME: I'd like to work on different wooden boxes, do more woodcut prints and work on doing some t-shirts.

GW: Tell me a secret?
ME: I'm standing behind you right now.

Like it? Show your support. info on paintings and current shows:
eganpaintingsFlickr
eganpaintings

I'm taking it all away from you

thought i'd spend the entire day reading. away from the phone. away from the t.v. and Internet. away from work and people and cars and falling leaves. locked down in a motel room with dirty sheets and pabst blue ribbon. stare at the ceiling and listen to the pounding in my skull for awhile. let it all settle here. settle me.

i thought i wouldn't have to write. what's it worth when I no longer have the words to make her
stay. she doesn't come here anyway.
no gifts. no kisses. no soft
refrain.
no more thoughts.


Do you know what i miss most about your skin?
it's things i can tell you but would rather feel. how it was against yours.
mine against yours. and me or you on top.
doesn't matter,
how much you don't move or how violently.
and if you're wondering.
I touch your hair and whisper yes, i still like you.

skin familiar
vanilla and clove with a touch of dew and sunshine.
fragile and bruised.
blood and saltwater.

she'd press her ear to my chest and if she can remember my heart beat. how it felt. the quiet sound, when it was still. She turns music off when we get tired. i like the cool darkness and silence of her room. breathing. her eyes closed, mine open. I watched her sleep.

so still like the moon in the sky. like the stars. But it only looks still, it's an illusion. it moves. we move. the earth, the dogs, the cats, you, me, the baby. everyone.


the record spins in the night.
and my mind is the needle stuck in the groove that is
you.