one week (and some change)

ok, so back from the wilds of idyllwild. if a place that has a pretty darn nice chinese restaraunt can be referred to as wild, of course.

first things first... what a great time up there hanging out with friends and talking poetry.

and the hiking was great. i have the bruises to prove it.

second, what a great time at the oc fair last night. watched x (great band, great show), rollins band (henry is still angry after all these years, bless his angry heart) and a new band from austin, who were worth the price of admission alone just for watching the lead singer climb around the first few rows of the pacific amphitheatre and scream punk lyrics at an oc grandma. all this while having an incredibly tasty cinammon roll. cinnapunk. nummy.

not to mention one of the longest, best, tastiest and happiest gorging fests in recent... hell, in any memory. still burping.

'scuse me.

finally, or almost finally, still hard at work on the cd. which reminds me... joe henry. alt-country? i dunno, but tasty good work. check it out, you won't regret it. (for example, from like she was a hammer: Like she was the Roosevelt's funeral in the street. Like she was the wireless voice out of the jungle Like she was the only thing calling out to me.)

and finally, finally, really finally, something new, and something revised. sorry about the long post, but i was actually busy not writing here for a few days instead of just slackin' off. nice, huh?


A Poem Still in Search of a Title

A thunderstorm passes overhead
and I think, this is how it should have been:
a slow gathering of tension, electricity,
earthquakes in the air.

But like so many things in my life,
it began as a half-hearted joke.

In this case, it was a question about a goodnight kiss.

There was a pause that stretched
from the open door of your car
to the end of my street.

You said, “Get in.”

So we drove, the way we had after so many late-shifts,
carrying an unasked question like a phantom passenger;
except now he was a hitchhiker we should never have picked up.

We parked, and there we were, half-draped across each other’s seats,
our tongues exploring the landscapes of new mouths,
our hands trying to appear calm while they deciphered
the secret language of button hooks and button flies.

I remember thinking,
What a marvelous machine, this mouth, these hands,
this knee slowly convincing your legs to part.
How incredible their design and ability to learn,
while I stand outside the passenger door
of a car on a street I nearly grew up on,
once-familiar trees reflected in windows dense with steam,
where you are about to half-moan “We have to be safe.”

Then suddenly I’m here again, and you’re there,
only somehow, I have a finger inside you.

All I can think of to say is a nod.

So we drive to the 7-11,
nearly get lost beneath the fluorescent lights,
try to become translucent as we slip down the aisle
with cough medicine, combs and Visine;
allow strangers’ gazes to pass through us
as we browse thickness and thinness, shapes, sizes and flavors;
promise ourselves a trip somewhere tropical
if we manage to escape.

We never took that trip.

We didn’t put any thunderstorms to shame.

If we were anything that night, we were the shadows of clouds,
rain clinging to leaves before it finds the ground,
and perhaps for a moment, just a moment,
we were lightning coaxing fire from trees.



dictionary entries about ex-girlfriends

nan·cy
: the sound of squeaking as a car door closes

chris·tine
1 : lack of belief in true north 2 : a study of molecules in the electron shell, and their tendency toward non-static behavior

ma·ggie
: to simulate the appearance of rapid movement, while remaining completely still

he·len
: the faculty or phenomena of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for; also : an instance of this

gi·na
: bridesmaid

ell·a
1 a: handmaiden in a fictional medieval village, blessed at birth with the gift of information b : the act of being caught between traditional romanian beliefs and a twisted re-telling of cinderella

dar·cy
: an alternate title for one of Houdini’s early escapes involving handcuffs and submersion

ra·chel
1 : a scattering of mobile homes 2 : from the old English: halig; akin to hal--whole, complete

kim and tra·ci
: marked by or containing elements of the apocalypse

da·na
1 : an exaggerated feeling of culpability for offenses 2 : impurities found in the deepest strata, invisible to the naked eye

jenn
: first and last hour of sunlight, when lighting is softer and warmer but shadows may shift rapidly