Showtunes for the Sixth Grade

sweating into the same shirt
same sheets for days on end
twisting in fabric whether standing or sleeping
hoping for a line to become a curl

hesitation to a threat
"don't make me dance"

put on a sequin hat and cock it
to shuffle and tap you'll need a cane
be caned off the stage
once they see how you know the steps

"you must know what it means!"

to sing these numbers, how obvious
these sexless hips, how obvious
red lights on pink lights at the front of the class
and now it's all so patently obvious

all this dancing was nothing more
than a show to be put on
to show how you've been put upon

"spectacle will do you no good."



my skin is thick
it doesn't care, it doesn't care.
about my food
cut up into little squares
hopefully palatable
the rope is pulling, the eso iso esopha gus
on ideas
they're things not at all in the physical world.



For Thought You Couldn't Feel

I can feel it
my heart
it's racing, it's racing
four chambers firing at once
this head swimming at the top, pushing upwards
my fingers buzzing, blurring around the middles
arms somehow growing roots, feeling longing
and the too tired chest heaves, up and down
it heaves the way you dream chests would heave
something is swimming in the blood
my blood lubricated


Espionage and Research are killing my life.

When I go to parties now, it's not an exciting whirl of new faces and possibilities, because the faces aren't new and the possibilities seem markedly impossible. I've met everyone already. I haven't met them in person, of course, that would be absurd. I've just seen them on Facebook, where not only did I find out their first and last names but also their politics, musical preferences and what they look like when they're kissing other people. What this means is that while I know the most intimate and irrelevant details of their lives, I ultimately can't actually use any of this information in a face-to-face encounter.
When I see them from across the room at parties I can't wave them over, tell them I think they're cute and that I too think the Beats were assholes despite having produced some quality writing. I can't tell them that their hair has never looked better or that the grainy web-cam display picture doesn't seem vain so much as just committed to the act of vanity that is inherent to any sort of social networking. I can't tell them how much I admire their unselfconsciousness or how much I've idealized them in my brain. To do so would be treason of the highest order, it would be obscene to admit such a breach of privacy.
However, sometimes when left to their own devices, sometimes these people will be inexplicably drawn to you and in rare cases actually engage in conversation with you. This is where the espionage element comes into play. Because while initiating interaction using previously acquired information is strange, it's even more off-putting to hear previously acquired information coming from the mouth of someone who you've initiated contact with. So, because you can't just ignore the facets of a person you already know about you have to drop hints, lead a conversation towards information you already know.
"I was just listening to this band, The Arcade Fire. Do you know them? What, really? You liked Funeral too? I absolutely adore it, how odd that we'd both be here and adoring the same thing! Maybe we should talk about this at greater length somewhere quieter?"
This is terrible. This is a terrible thing. Actions like these are the territory of bad sitcoms, yet I still sometimes find myself commiting them, fully embracing the fact that I've become dangerously insane.
Clearly the only solution to my problem is to either be thrown into a lake and left for dead or just make a conscious effort not to use Facebook for Evil.

Naturally, I've begun researching lakes.


atmopheric blends.

sitting staring sipping smoking
killing the time the time is all mine
nothing at all is nothing i own
there is nothing alive that isn't alone
there is not a soul to finish
not to kill or quench my thirst
i feel fine.


This Week's Theme

Espionage & Research
espionnage et recherche


cut to;

so far we are
not in danger
at least
keep me in a place
where i can feel
because maybe then
i'll get creative
for once
but only when
i'm trying to stay alive


here we are/hall of mirrors

give me some time to reflect
to review and reconsider this
reflection reflected
what it is that i want, what i want to want and want
reflected as what i don't

all he wanted was a hall of mirrors
one million tiny white flowers
to bloom in the spring, round the pools

to ring my halls with narcissus petals
to ring my horns with cedar and garlands
tiny white diamonds within tiny white diamonds

it's the jewel we covet, the polished glass
having found ourselves so far beyond
these golden, flowered frames


mimicry & imitation
other skills I once imagined myself
to possess

when I was young

I knew a boy who could mask his voice
who could be anyone I needed him to be
and for that I loved him
the way you do as children

I could be a lover, but for
now I'm british now I'm french
now I'm a chainsaw ripping into
nothing, stumbling against the thaw

don't splinter as you young are wont to do
don't chip away under the weight of the machine
don't surrender or push east to satisfy history
don't be felled, but allow yourself to fall

because the way we hit the floor
or don't says more than these chainsaw birds
more than mimicry & imitation can undo