Thursday, April 23, 2009

Friday, April 17, 2009

How can I love you? (if you won't lie down)

I could hear you standing, tensed behind the curtain. I kept playing because I never let you listen to me sing. I kind of wanted you to know that I could.

The air last night was the kind that comes out the back of old TVs.
We sat on the hill by the park, and When you asked me why I never sit on your right side,
I had so many good reasons, I didn't know where to begin.











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Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

David Berman - The Charm Of 5:30 (an excerpt )

There's a shy looking fellow on the courthouse steps, holding up a
placard that says "But, I kinda liked Reagan." His head turns slowly
as a beautiful girl walks by, holding a refrigerated bottle up against
her flushed cheek.

She smiles at me and I allow myself to imagine her walking into
town to buy lotion at a brick pharmacy.
When she gets home she'll apply it with great lingering care before
moving into her parlor to play 78 records and drink gin-and-tonics
beside her homemade altar to James Madison.

In a town of this size, it's certainly possible that I'll be invited over
one night.

In fact I'll bet you something.

Somewhere in the future I am remembering today. I'll bet you
I'm remembering how I walked into the park at five thirty,
my favorite time of day, and how I found two cold pitchers
of just poured beer, sitting there on the bench.

words for erica.

i think about what it would be like if we lived in montreal together. we would drink tea on the park, and sit by the pond, and talk about life, and watch the ducks swim with the leaves that stick to the water. we bike everywhere.. so you would like that. there are bike paths, and girls who wear skirts, on low rider bikes, and its all just a bit too much sometimes.. the world here is full.
we could gab like old biddies and talk about the people we know, and the things we've done. maybe on fridays we could go out to shows on the plataeu with the cool kids, and we could go hear a spoken word artist, or the stubborn beatniks that refuse to die out. the feminist folk artists that forget they're not Ani Difranco. ..

i had this dream that you and me we had this little cabin house in this field, but all the rooms only had 3 walls? so it wasnt really clopsed off, and there was this big old bathtub. and i started running the water, .. but the leaves kept blowing in and landing on the hot water. .. so we both jumped in.. and we were older hatah, we were like 30ish? maybe 40? and we jumped into this hot bath with all of these leaves in the tub, and we fell asleep. isnt that strange?

one night we were trying to disapear into the woods for a while, so i was trying to pack my backpack.. but i couldnt fit my stuff init.. and i was getting frustrated, and there was no room for food.. and we couldnt walk up the gravel slope, because our bags were too heavy, so we ended up jumping off the side of the path, and we landed in the water, and the water was the ocean from tofino? so we plunged into the ocean, but the ocean was warm even though it was winter. ..all of our things floated out of our oack packs.. but we just kept sinking, and kept seeing our things float up past us.. we landed on the bottom. and we just stayed there. and it was all green and sandy, and the tide and the waves kept pulling us along the sandy bottom..

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