I remember this Jon Hillenbrand, October 21, 2010December 30, 2015 You’ll know if this makes sense to you: “And it starts, sometime around midnight. Or at least that’s when you lose yourself for a minute or two. As you stand, under the bar lights. And the band plays some song about forgetting yourself for a while. And the piano’s this melancholy soundtrack to her smile. And that white dress she’s wearing you haven’t seen her for a while. “But you know, that she’s watching. She’s laughing, she’s turning. She’s holding her tonic like a cross. The room’s suddenly spinning. She walks up and asks how you are. So you can smell her perfume. You can see her lying naked in your arms. “And so there’s a change, in your emotions. And all these memories come rushing like feral waves to your mind. Of the curl of your bodies, like two perfect circles entwined. And you feel hopeless and homeless and lost in the haze of the wine. “Then she leaves, with someone you don’t know. But she makes sure you saw her. She looks right at you and bolts. As she walks out the door, your blood boiling your stomach in ropes. Oh and when your friends say, ‘What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ “Then you walk, under the streetlights. And you’re too drunk to notice, that everyone is staring at you. You just don’t care what you look like, the world is falling around you. You just have to see her. You just have to see her. You just have to see her. You just have to see her. You just have to see her. You know that she’ll break you in two.” Lyrics by: The Airborne Toxic Event Poetry herlovephotographyPoetry
Poetry True Colors August 18, 2010December 30, 2015 Would that the man on the moon were a lonely fellow, perhaps reclining against the slope of some great crater, he might say that he had more insight under the print of his thumb than all of the Earthling extrospection gleamed from upon the snowy vantage of Everest. Perhaps he… Read More
Poetry Love’s Dreamy Breath October 15, 2008December 30, 2015 Love is air. Lovelessness is the drowning after. I float now in that water. Were I suspended in sweet air, you would see the roses in my cheeks and the clover in my souls. But as you peer past the surface of my rippled sky, your eyes will ungrey a… Read More
Poetry Rosary of thought unread aloud October 6, 2010May 10, 2013 It’s a rosary of thought, it’s over and over, and it runs through my head from bead to bead. It doesn’t matter. Like a fight with myself. You know, eventually, I’m going to win. So I wait for the victory. I close my eyes and wait for the victory to… Read More