When recalling the end of such a beautiful night, I mark the way with white chalk. Arrows on the bark pointing my way to oblivion. They lead me past the windows of rundown homes, and inside I see you, seeing me, with my hands around your waist. My fingers in your hair. Through the glass there's me, drinking straight from the jade bottle, my sunglasses fogged by the heat of our youth, on one of the coldest nights we didn't remember. I pass the dryer vents that jaunt from the crumbling cement, they're spouting the smell of your detergent. It was like summer rain come to make me clean. I follow only the path I drag in white dust. I am become the way alongside the mills and the tannery, the shipbuilder's blood still fresh on the leather. Pressed are our palms in the fresh cement, initialed and signed and dated with a year's pass. Down in the sewer, I see all the ink from my tattoos, memoirs and notes on how to live in love and booze. When I am god. Come hell or high water. Long live. Rapture. The arrows are pointing me back, north and east and towards the sea. All of that ink wouldn't come with me. Even good things drain into the canal, even the colors that I could never see. Old keys on an old hook, they could never open a thing. Saved my grace for the devil, sold my soul to hear you sing. Lo and behold, I hate the sound of everything.
True north brought me the head of the fawn
Laid it gently at my doorstep and rang the bell
When I'd found my love on the mat
I ripped my eyes out and closed the blinds by the slat
This is the everglades, the swamps and gulls
I clench my teeth so hard I'm speaking squalls
This is abandonment, this is rebirth
I was given life to beat death first
You were an...
It was 3 AM and I was all alone
Spent my evening guessing how my death should go
Would I be cut to ribbons on the railroad tracks?
Could I drown myself in an ice bath?
Is there ever a...
If the mailman hasn't brought this to your house by the time of your wedding, then congratulations. I understand why my little gilded-gold invitation never showed up in the...
I remember being at a red light, tapping my fingers to the beat, and then, suddenly, I'm 35 miles outside of town, wondering where half a pack of cigarettes ran off to.
There's always this moment, usually after laughing, where her eyes will blink separately, one before the other, smoothly, as if they were a wave moving across the calm sea of her...
The bell of the train warning did little to dissuade a regal monarch butterfly from crawling along my side-view mirror. Only when the freight cars actually came to pass did the...
Aren't we an awful plague standing on two feet?
Couldn't we be more than an arctic wind on the sea?
Though we're saving the birds, we're gutting the trees
We can't save ourselves...