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 The future remains, as always, uncertain May 30, 2008December 30, 2015 I may not have all of the answers, but I know what I know. I’ve drunk lessons from the fire hose, most of it getting away from me. I’ve filled my cup with what I know, and periodically pour it most of the way out onto the pavement like tears… Read More
Poetry The Doorway October 21, 2008December 30, 2015 The door banged open dustily halting the men’s filthy conversation. She paused there in the opening, a sudden wind taking its cue to wrap around her silken form. Red swollen lips threw daggers at the men. Her word leveled with the finality of a commandment, a gale force whisper, the… Read More
Poetry Delta Delta Delta June 26, 2008December 30, 2015 Last night, I walked past my bookshelf and glanced at one of the two spiral-bound notebooks leaning against the oversized Dan Eldon book. One notebook has a collection of terrible charcoal drawings I made in a period when I imagined I could practice my way into talented charcoal artistry. The… Read More