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I can feel you,
ghosts of fingertips
on top of skin
sweat-kissed,
puckering in the air
of an open window

I can feel you,
dents in the mattress
scented in the creases,
dented from the weight.
When one has gone the
other stays, is patient

I can feel you,
the gnawing on exposed
limbs bent in all directions.
Eyes wide, still hungry and
waiting
for another taste of

you. I can feel
the blood-pulse, the rush
and the push of things.
It's swirling, dizzying--
teeth exposed, grinning
stupidly, wonderfully

I can feel you
when you're gone
when you come, go
when you return.

Where there is nothing
I can feel you.

thank you, too, for being a friend

Yesterday Bea Arthur, the actress who played Dorothy Zbornak on my most favorite show The Golden Girls, passed away from cancer. She was 86. Here's to you, Bea.

blogger =

livejournal

only we're older, more hip, and less emo.

thinking

the neighborhood sits still and quiet
and the children are gone.
those who have moved away or died,
their cars rest in the driveways.
no one leaves in early mornings
or returns at dusk, just trees
and the branches that hang like ghosts
of people we've been before.

ice hardens like sharp glass
along the gutterways, a stark
and harsh light lining my way
back to this place that slips down
in silence at the end of each day
and the faint voices of childsplay
echo like a distant symphony
somewhere in the back roads.

no more stories of the old country
or dinners around the table where
so many dinners used to be,

no more old and and empty souls
retiring to recliners, sinking
into television sets that snow
when the station is off the air

no more mothers, fathers
yet i dream of where they've gone.
i shake and miss the morning break,
and fade into the dawn.

seriously fucked up

not your ordinary whip-it

and so i've learned

shit happens. deal.

happy saturday

After doing nothing more than running a gallery opening, watching movies all night with my lovely boy, and coming home to chain smoke and go to sleep, I woke up this morning to the sound of my iPhone alarm -- a horrible, piercing sound that doesn't just bring the dead from their slumber but also makes me want to throw the piece of shit across the room and get my 9 extra fucking snooze minutes. I'm digressing. So I'm due in at the office just before nine, alarm blares at 7:15. As I reach down to the little pile of books and boxes my phone is resting on to turn it off I realize I'm feeling like I haven't slept much more than what a short nap would feel like. I am exhausted and so not interested in the Cindy Crawford anti-aging-give up the modeling endeavors-infomercial that plays softly from my crap-ass excuse for a television set (props to me for falling asleep watching Lifetime every night). So I snooze once, and snooze again. Lacking motivation to get out of my warm bed I lay there, "just gonna rest my eyes another second" ... an hour passes before I wake in a panic realizing that it's 8:35, and I barely have time to brush my teeth or even look in the mirror before I speed the drive to work which when done legally should take almost a half an hour. After teeth and deodorant it's now 8:40, no time for coffee, and yes I'm wearing some combination of what I slept in and what I had on last night. Today was a day for an Italian shower, but thankfully I'm only here until 4 and it's cold enough to make me feel pretty much clean all day long. I get in my car, it's freezing, neighbors in my cookie-cutter development are starting their cars, travel mugs in hand, waving to one another... and then there's me, I've got my aviators and "don't fuck with me right now" face on, get in my car and fuck the warm up, I'm GONE.

...

So I'm wondering in a moment of panic what would be most appropriate to drive to work on. No time to choose, so risking the many obvious bad choices in 14,987 songs I pick shuffle. Who would have thought this would be the only stroke of luck I'd have in the morning? God was clearly on my side. As I swing around my corner without stopping, "Windowlicker" by Aphex Twin comes on. I found some odd solace in this trip of a song. Needless to say I was prompted to speed and got to work in 15 minutes (thankfully) without getting pulled over. Here I am, looking and feeling like shit... my only comfort is my iPod and the fact that I woke up with my hair looking pretty decent... but I've got the coon-eyes of a sleep deprived octogenarian.


Oh, I got to work on time.

The blogosphere is teeming with people who are dying to get noticed

i.e. the blogosphere is dead.

my heart hurts

very much