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About Me

it's 9th and Hennepin all the doughnuts have names that sound like prostitutes and the moon's teethmarks are on the sky like a tarp thrown all over this and the broken umbrellas like dead birds and the steam comes out of the grill like the whole god damned town's ready to blow and the bricks are all scarred like jailhouse tattoos and everyone is behaving like dogs and horses are coming down violin road and dutch is dead on his feet and all the rooms, they smell like diesel and you take on the dreams of the ones who've slept there and I'm lost in the window and I hide in the stairway and I hang in the curtain and I sleep in your hat. and no one brings anything small into a bar around here they all started out with bad directions and the girl behind the counter has a tattooed tear one for every year he's away she said such a crumbling beauty ahhhhh.. there's nothin wrong with her a hundred dollars won't fix she has that razor sadness that only gets worse with the clang and the thunder of the southern pacific going by and the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet til you're full of ragwater bitters and blue ruin and you spill out over the side to anyone who'll listen i've seen it all I've seen it all through the yellow windows of the evening train .. ..

My Interests

I'd like to meet:

"In the Middle" by Barbara Crooker, from Yarrow. © 1998 and printed by permission from the author. (buy now)In the Middleof a life that's as complicated as everyone else's, struggling for balance, juggling time. The mantle clock that was my grandfather's has stopped at 9:20; we haven't had time to get it repaired. The brass pendulum is still, the chimes don't ring. One day you look out the window, green summer, the next, and the leaves have already fallen, and a grey sky lowers the horizon. Our children almost grown, our parents gone, it happened so fast. Each day, we must learn again how to love, between morning's quick coffee and evening's slow return. Steam from a pot of soup rises, mixing with the yeasty smell of baking bread. Our bodies twine, and the big black dog pushes his great head between; his tail is a metronome, 3/4 time. We'll never get there, Time is always ahead of us, running down the beach, urging us on faster, faster, but sometimes we take off our watches, sometimes we lie in the hammock, caught between the mesh of rope and the net of stars, suspended, tangled up in love, running out of time. Photobucket Album ..

My Blog

On a Day with Jim

Our youth is burning away like the cigarette we pass, hand to hand, to mouthand back.And the harder we drag the faster it burns. Like a summer day with the windows down, driving for no reason to a som...
Posted by on Wed, 09 Jan 2008 00:21:00 GMT

california summer 06

I sleep on a matin front of a faded sun-yellow tractor.The rural California stars are interrupted by the throbbing airport searchlight, while the intermittent shadow of a night bird cuts through const...
Posted by on Wed, 09 Jan 2008 00:10:00 GMT

what if I am a bomb? and A random dream

sometime last feb (unedited)And maybe we'll stay outside for a few more minutes; spot the cars we can spot on the distant highway, and watch the lights go on and off in the houses on the side of the h...
Posted by on Tue, 08 Jan 2008 22:46:00 GMT

february something

just out the back door for a smokeon a red porch in the mountains.I climb onto the roof, and watch the red bird walk.it's sunsetand I have been alone now for almost twelve hours.contemplation and sile...
Posted by on Mon, 06 Feb 2006 15:27:00 GMT

eupsychian lifestyles

so Nate and I are sitting at Paris studying, and he is reading a psych book for a test, he is reading about maslow, and asks me to look up the word eupsychian. I looked it up. It's incredible, you s...
Posted by on Wed, 14 Dec 2005 21:26:00 GMT

hmm..bars are conducive to audacious blog posts

This interaction is soft A familiar face With soft shades Under dim lights Refined features That bring to mind A set of defined lines Rules for interaction And I remember them Well Like so...
Posted by on Thu, 06 Oct 2005 20:37:00 GMT

I put the double apce in because it's short

one kiss like sipping tea out of a broken glass carefully because this could hurt
Posted by on Thu, 06 Oct 2005 20:35:00 GMT

seventeen (a work in progress)

Seventeen empty containers of cream Stacked together and crushed neatly The contents of which accented Two pots of coffee At a 10:1 ratio Of coffee to cream Why? Because cream makes coffee tole...
Posted by on Thu, 06 Oct 2005 20:33:00 GMT

no title

I just walked past a dying man. In fact, I walk by him every day. He's not dead yet, no, he's still here, holding on, but not for long. He grasps every second for a last drop of life until it is as...
Posted by on Wed, 02 Mar 2005 01:07:00 GMT

Magic Theater: Not For Everybody.

The streets of Denver were slain at our feet, red carpets leading us to the wonders of the world. Vessels of thought and ideas that beg for a mind so sharp as to cut them open, revealing their secr...
Posted by on Sun, 27 Feb 2005 03:26:00 GMT