The honey, the humming of a million bees,
In the middle of Florence pining for Paris;
The whining trembling the cars and trucks hum
Crossing the metal matting of Brooklyn Bridge
When you stand below it on the Brooklyn side—
High above you, the harp, the cathedral, the hive—
In the middle of Florence. Florence in flames.
Like waking from a fever … it is evening.
Fireflies breathe in the gardens on Bellosguardo.
And then the moon steps from the cypresses and
A wave of feeling breaks, phosphorescent—
Moonlight, a wave hushing on a beach.
In the dark, a flame goes out. And then
The afterimage of a flame goes out.
“The Best of Jill Hives,” Guided by Voices
Daydreaming about Dayton.
I don’t know how you choose your words…
Bored by rhythm
steering veins that he measured
the most beautiful leaves
she shuffled through
could hardly wait
to be anywhere else
bored or not
once you figure out what to wear
there’s still the matter
of what to fill your pockets with
oilcloth and stones
I haven’t written anything in weeks…I have been working 6-7 days a week and spending time out with friends every night…barely sleeping…but happy…very happy. But….I was inspired to write something tonight…finally…sometimes you see something so beautiful and well done that you are forced to create something for yourself….so…I will post it tomorrow…or.
Time to smoke some grass…like…a lot.
I am single…but yes…yes I do.
“Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking…
This really is the best advice ever…I should take it.
This logical extension
every joke you ever told her
is important to me
because today was helpless
tedious, whimsical and self-regarded
into the return
skin tightened and eyes closed
that would come true
contort then swell
Your hair holds a breath
with coy patience
that well protected voice
chiming in fast
expelling your last bit of gentleness, now.
Daddy Never Understood- Deluxx Folk Implosion
(from KIDS by Harmony Korine)
I shall state this
akin to a fundamental sound
with what might be
of our time together
a multitude of content
as it was brash
continuing to strive under the last dust.
Dig this, baby.
I honestly don’t think that I can properly…and this is not meant as a weak attempt at obsfucation…I mean…maybe I can kind of describe it…but I feel that my words would become as blurry as my eyes…and I don’t want to connect with that particular emotional state tonight…sorry.