Pauline Hopkins, This Doesn’t Mean You |
Pauline Hopkins taught me oncethat places are just as real as they're false.That paper planes meet bullet trainsin imagination and in dust.Pauline Hopkins once wrote wordsto describe love stories in b...
Posted by JUL!AN on Tue, 27 Nov 2007 10:23:00 PST |
What Became of Us |
A better world to look forward to,we leave for it tonight.So pack your bags, your shoes, your rags-I'll pack light, they'll fit alright.So pack away your memories,both in your head and in your drawer...
Posted by JUL!AN on Tue, 20 Nov 2007 09:26:00 PST |
This is What Happens/Happened/Is Happening |
It was twice in Septembermany months until Octoberuntil you waited till Novemberto tell me that you felt, it, too.But what am I to do with unrequitted,uncommitted, adulterous attitude?What am I to wak...
Posted by JUL!AN on Tue, 13 Nov 2007 07:08:00 PST |
The Calendar Hung Itself |
Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning when you start to raise your head?And does he sing to you incessantly from the space between your bed and wall?Does he walk around all day at schoolwith his fe...
Posted by JUL!AN on Thu, 08 Nov 2007 12:36:00 PST |
The Talons of the Bald Eagle |
Money doesn't grow on trees-it grows in the dirt,cause I'm on my knees,digging, nails caked in late fees,paying through the teeth and my self-esteem.Who says you can't price the human will?I sold mine...
Posted by JUL!AN on Mon, 05 Nov 2007 09:47:00 PST |
These Are Troubled Times |
Nighttime falls like canopy trees,failing after they are displeased.The monkeys are the first to go.Snakes and quetzals soon follow.The barks are hollow,thinned out and knarled black,twisted like disr...
Posted by JUL!AN on Fri, 26 Oct 2007 09:10:00 PST |
Fiery Greens |
I grew up where the leaves never change,and now they're changing, reds and fiery greens.But what does it mean?Oh, does it have to mean something?Asics, Vans, maybe Chuckspaving the road with wet size ...
Posted by JUL!AN on Mon, 22 Oct 2007 01:10:00 PST |
COUNTERFEIT. COUNTERFEIT. COUNTERFEIT. |
You give me shityou give me shityou gave me shit, hot in my hand.What the hell am I supposed to do with it?It doesn't make the cutthe story doesn't fit.You gave me hellyou give me helland in the morni...
Posted by JUL!AN on Thu, 18 Oct 2007 02:24:00 PST |
Train-Track Stitches |
Lining my stomach,like train tracks of where you've been,the places I've seen but will never be again.Like the cold frost of Fresno freeze,early mornings wrapped from neck to kneesin hand-knit blanket...
Posted by JUL!AN on Sat, 13 Oct 2007 09:33:00 PST |
Asking for Impunity |
I guess I could just sit aroundlike I do downtown,Northwest, ups and downs,or just general clownery.Tell me what you think of me,and I'll tell you all about it,I'll shout it so loud you won't know how...
Posted by JUL!AN on Mon, 08 Oct 2007 09:15:00 PST |
