Why I write. |
Words weigh more than the arms of God."Let there be"was heavier than all of the matter in creation."Be there let"is weightless.I want a scythe of syntax heaving blowsof long clean limitless noise.I w...
Posted by Damion on Tue, 11 Sep 2007 12:46:00 PST |
what all my variables represent. |
I=x
Because "I do not exist."Strands of starlight lengthen and brightenwithin my guts,within my inner most masculine I.
Because I am busy "not existing,"my word machine rumbles, devours the sky,&nbs...
Posted by Damion on Fri, 16 Mar 2007 07:47:00 PST |
September (part 4) |
September (part 4)
When last year's smoke is rising from your eyes,
The immortality of sadness,
The reason the sky is blue.
You will sit at that bar with people you hate, conspiring with&n...
Posted by Damion on Wed, 11 Oct 2006 09:06:00 PST |
What Heaven looks like. |
What heaven looks likeThere is a mom with green hair and black laceless batman sneakerspulling her giddy daughter over each and every speed bumpon a pink plastic scooterjust outside the Delta cafe.Pep...
Posted by Damion on Tue, 29 Aug 2006 12:54:00 PST |
The revelation of britney spears |
The revelatio...
Posted by Damion on Tue, 29 Aug 2006 12:39:00 PST |
x=i |
I am a kingdom of clicks, an audible nonsense, a grim neurotic noise, masquerading as a man. I am a big, black Jonah, groaning in the belly of a city bus. I bring the fear of God to a congregation of...
Posted by Damion on Wed, 26 Jul 2006 05:01:00 PST |
Ithica |
Quentin Terantino films are washing over Julie's glasses, reminding her that she is growing cold. All the other film school drop outs made remarks about detachment, and how our cultur...
Posted by Damion on Fri, 30 Jun 2006 09:42:00 PST |
Imagism |
You see I am working audible algebra,
into the bleachers,
into the makeout spots
of some high school football game.
And I have ciphered a new alphabet,
of crumpled Kleenex
and wrinkl...
Posted by Damion on Wed, 03 May 2006 03:23:00 PST |
Good night and Good luck |
The age of unreason
And the scent of that Pyrrhic victory will fill up your lungs
and go on filling them long after all of your friends have gassed themselves in their stoves.
Long after Amer...
Posted by Damion on Thu, 06 Apr 2006 04:00:00 PST |
Of love and wrinkles |
Neon crickets are humming tiny jingles.
A soup bowl moon is crammed with cream of mushroom light.
Beer bottles strung about the bedroom floor are brimming
with hopeful bubbles.
De...
Posted by Damion on Wed, 05 Apr 2006 03:45:00 PST |
