The White Dress

what.the.fuck.is.writitng.
Is this it?
Are we there yet?

Does the accidental rhythm of my intentional expressions create added value?

can the written attempt, the unpolished uneducated literary output consistently measure sum zero, long wordy and nonexistant?

how does this art distinguish what I'm doing here from one who knows better?

is the questmark the mark of bad writing? Then tell me what will.

why can't we share the friends in the divorce cant we split them instead of them splitting?

the point I take it is to have everything stripped, status, lover, friends, the table at the place where we sat, primed for someone knew so then you'll how how much you don't fit there anymore. unwanted.

but I wont leave your native land, I cant know, I wont care and I wont leave here. I'll stay bumbling stumbling beating the hell out of bushes, because I know this land is your land this land is my land, this land was made for you and me.

soothe

feral disgruntled kitten sucks pacifier plunged orally fixed
he small and pissed
at the commandeering of his little tack lined mouth
at the presumptuous endgame of whose key piece is the pacifier
he'd spit that shit out and tell you about yourself
if that damned pacifier wasn't so pacifying.

2/27/11

Morning

as despair goes, so goes morning, as morning passes I fear so goes memory

u2x

there have been two u's in my life.
possibly more.
and the deepest of them are not bound by a ribbon of time
as u may suspect.

our initial contact sketched an essential u a
clothed but skeletal u,
worn in layers but a seeing through to u.

later pressed into service a double u
and just that
a dopple-ganging up on me, made of my insistence, my ingredients; artificial u.
the likes id never seen.

so understand to be through with u is not rejection,
just remembrance that u were never there

and i was so alone.