or Thoughts on a Moral Controversy
Waiting room segue in a series of dreams
AM Jazz radio barely audible
in the muted, awkward space
between bewildered young women.
Eye contact refracts
through anesthetized gazes at annals of pamphlets
divulging an illusional existence
The critical shock of awareness
renders also an understanding:
There is only one decision,
whatever monochromatic brochure character
she fall into.
These sketches read real as comic strips,
trying to cartoon a hellish carnival
of gyrating pain, warping amidst a fury
of picketers parading signs like crucifixes,
raging grey faces contorted
6:10 AM, Greyhound Station:
Graffitied busses lurk
The murky auburn sunrise,
Spying bleary touristas
Defying weary travel warnings
Which whisper through the morning
Of the slumbering border town—
Police chief shot twenty times
Mere hours after swearing in.
Dead, this month alone.
Highway drug wars, Zetas, Cartels—
Printed words of trepidation
Cut the truth like chemicals
In a dirty white newspaper high.
Showdown at Apartment B
Philosophical debates of endeavors wrong
Real as spaghetti
The pre-shootout exchange,
Poncho's dying monologue.
But who then plays the hero, dear?
Surely not you, but unlikely I,
As in this kitchen tile waltz
I bloom against the stove and sigh
Pretending to keep the beat
But always one step behind.
Now this floor is cold and strange
A silent film too long
And yellowed with age.
We tango through dusty mars-like streets
Fingers toy with burnt leather holsters
Of apocalyptic one liners
Clint Eastwood might fire.
And I will silhouette the stairs,
A shadowed frame
Slipping off your r
Brine shrimp dart in pools
Sea monkeys in glacial jars
Atop moonlike peaks.
This Saturday Night
We sink in scrap-yard sofas
A mere year later.
Write of higher summits climbed
In half drunk haikus.
I always knew
we'd fade to glass
the present bleeds unto the past
to taint a room
then lock me in
and slam the door. The walls grow thin
exist no more.
A petal wanes,
yet in your bell jar I remain
a rose on view
until trepid voices waken,
you peer through.
My dad's road map rests lightly in my lap,
folded edges flapping-
Butterfly wings in an open window.
Her voice comes gaily
through the yellow walkie-talkie
dancing with static from the pitted road:
"It's a speed trap you know…"
I watch her 81 Honda accelerate-
Racing madly through the desert
'till finally seeming
just a silver bullet on the highway.
The road scrolls past me unpaced;
Each rusty tagged call box-
a connection lost
Speed limit posted-
Only the pallid rhombus sign
Jutting from the shoulder's broken pavement
Catches my eye with merging arrows:
"This road will end."
Yet let's forget tha
Troy- 19 year old male
Father Gordon- a catholic priest
(Easter Sunday, April 20th, in a catholic confessional booth. Gordon is behind a screen in the booth. Troy enters and kneels.)
Forgive me father for I have sinned. It's been an hour since my last confession.
Tell me my son… wait, only an hour?
Yeah, I realized something during your sermon.
(chuckles) Yes my son?
I thought you guys weren't supposed to laugh at us.
(Still laughing) No, I don't know what's gotten into me this Easter morning. I just feel giddy. But go on.
Yeah… So I lied to my gir
She meets my lips
the taunting red
the aftertaste assaults my head
bitter wince reminds
of nights before our dance began:
the silver rim
Rough hands caress glass curves
for one waltz more
as ceiling melts with sticky floor
our nightly bed
just you and I.
Let faces fade to hazy hues
kaliedoscopic liquid views
and wake alone-
her beauty spilt
in a trance too deep, and so we drown.
After drinking wine and catching up with Holly Berry for four hours, I realize it's time for a SLObian update.
For one, Jerad and I have been together for a couple months, and it's awesome. When you find someone else who plays music as loud as you do, you'd best hang on to them.
On another note, the Spring Break that emerged with a shakey start is comming to a triumphant end, as Wednessday marked the afternoon in which I checked off one of my life goals. For one glorious moment, I was high in Splash Mountain's laughing place, at Disneyland.
This was, of course, thanks to Juan's superb baking skills, and the fact that he kept feeding me mys
Whaaa--!! a B+ in Natural Resource Public Land Use Policy? So that optional final essay I wrote in attempts to raise my grade to an A- was utterly pointless?
Not entirely, I suppose, because I did enjoy writing my own law, but still! I could have started the heavy drinking on Wednesday! What about all those poor, miserable brain cells who were prepared to drown blissfully in a pint of tequila, but were instead forced to commit suicide via me banging my head on the table in academic frustration. In honor of their tragic martyrdom to failed scholastic dreams, thousands more will die at 80 proof sea upon my upcoming 21st birthday.
On another n
After another week of midterm mayhem, the weekend has finally come. Setting aside my usual plans (crazy partying and rugby) me, paul, and a handfull of LEAP people took off for a weekend of backpacking in the Trinity Alps.
We got to the trail head at 6:30 on friday, deciding to hike in despite the mist and the dark. The night air was crisp and electric, and as we rose in elevation, the sky cleared, liting up with winter constellations. Fresh snow gradually crunched under our feet, illuminated in the glow of our headlamps. After 4 miles, we made camp, cooked dinner, and went to bed.
When I finally pulled myself out of the slightly warmer ten
Done w/ school June 9th- but will still have to pack and all that shit. I'm living in SD during the summer but plan on coming home for a little while.
My houseing shit is all worked out (YA!), and I'm so happy that my parents are cool w/ me living w/ guys, not that their is really anything they could do...
Don't you hate it how ppl on deviant art talk about you like you won't read it? Shit, now I feel like a bitch...
By-the-bye, I don't have your cell number anymore. I tried calling you during spring break and I got a dude- and you room phone had some jacked up as hell answering machine. Give me a call sometime so I can get your number. Mine's still the same.