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Thursday, July 10th, 2008

Time:9:18 am.
in forty one weeks whatever happened, did
did it have to?

in a fort, did we ever connect>
not visibly, but CAN BE IMAGINED, BE?

i fit a twisted lip within the over fruited blood filled head that housed your kiss
and burned it to say;
switch partners with them


take over, take over

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Sunday, September 23rd, 2007

Time:9:33 pm.
i am fucking eating this goddamn spaghetti like you wouldn't believe
what are you doing?
is that so hard to m/f believe.
i want to get you fucking pregnant.
its not your fucking fault, its my fault. i meant to finger you instead, but i made you do it with me and it was somegasexy
so listen to this
i can't finish my shingunjuwie
thats a fantastic fragmentally correct libertarian author from a financially secure independant company based somewhere in upstate rhode island
sargent argento
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Thursday, December 21st, 2006

Time:2:52 am.
Comments: Read 3 orAdd Your Own.

Thursday, December 7th, 2006

Subject:the whole world rests!
Time:11:28 pm.
in the thursday after a cough caught the heel, tripped and tricked her
she drained a pinot in the afternoon of cold cold
making blah songs in the fashion of the dreadful bores

quizzes! vices! a coin-operated mind!
Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

Tuesday, December 5th, 2006

Time:7:15 am.
Hey with your penny whistle I will bring a gift, I will be following through the woods
Seeing you stoop at the hedge, pick a violet from the shadow and peer over to glimpse the white swath of winter, crack knuckles at the treeline,
Hearing the trill your pretty penny titter out a quick split melody
Sing a blinking song to me and strike me in the night my dream out of mine shake me to the street
And blind my tranquil treat shriek! l wintershine reeking sweet fruit of memory ohh oh on pond -blackened glossed eyelashes that drape the hot cheeks to be mentioned soon

And your golden thread woven gloves fell into the powder and floured at the bottom of a blizzard as sweet as an amber haze from any fictional page
crinkled edges against the flake flicks, it will? Think think think
The snowfirst finding the foundered have ceased to trough across a rowed once, now crept over river

Why hide and seek when since the winds the wandering walks brightened the corners and we could see
A tree so full and heavy with the rot
The godly rose lips and cheeks turned to apple peaks of blossoming streaks
Over your honey’d cheeks
Matters to discuss break themselves into the dusted coverlet and the tent we constructed in a panic about Friday’s pressure and the blame that passes over after the empty weekend with its taxing take or trick constant greeting

Shy chin to tuck in my chest and kiss its nice head to the back of a sweet neck
A moment and memory to shake the dreams out from the branches of this autosonic absurdity
See? The wordy filth beaks and skates the open pond over a glassy strange and shallow swell
Covered by the skirting winter waves of frosty flares
And one alone walking,
Whislting in the foggy forest.
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Wednesday, November 15th, 2006

Time:12:12 am.
The Clean Part Reading Series Presents:
G.C. Waldrep, Kerri Sonnenberg & Kristi Maxwell
Poetry Reading
Sheldon Art Gallery: 12th & R Streets, Lincoln, NE
Saturday Nov. 18, 2006, 7pm
Free & Open to the Public
Comments: Read 6 orAdd Your Own.

Sunday, November 12th, 2006

Subject:tiny, oscillating circular saws
Time:11:51 pm.
little saws swinging all over in the air
and decapitating birds and taking the fingers off people doing yardwork
well they hardly noticed, bleeding straight into the leaves
i love weird animals, like the crazy clams shooting cum and eggs by the gallon into the ocean and slopping sex into the sea
watch me try to swim

there have to be at least six meth labs near my house. because the neighborhood reeks of ill-gotten spoils, and everybody moves about like vicious robots, shooting looks at me as i stare tricky-late from the porch.
and have all mee teeth, they fucking covet they do.

a gated park, swans, shit.

all good.
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Saturday, November 11th, 2006

Time:3:34 pm.
off and odd and laughable, a twinkle under morning eyes of mine
a gagging giggle at the queries made
of required clashing minds

and the root-word reducing roundabout-reason ruining
pivoting lectern from where we speak or stare
and track cold fingers across the sides
of a world
so created by need and played as such
so completley
that it can be no more than just that
and certainly can't include
the presence of any new purpose
for us
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Time:8:57 am.
where to put these things, what to do. barely have face time with middle mind beetweeen the sifty fright things, the all tranquil gone off early nights, and earlier days.
your note to self timid little lines, past imitating life in the forced to play time.
six to eleven- them entrapped, wrapped and bored.
Comments: Read 4 orAdd Your Own.

Sunday, October 29th, 2006

Time:3:15 pm.
Saturday, November 4th, 2006, bemisUNDERGROUND
and "Tugboat Presents:", will host a "Bull Buckin'
Ben'fit Dance Party" from 10pm- "after hours", at the
Bemis Center's Okada Sculpture Facility (adjacent to
the main building at 724 S. 12th St., Omaha,NE. The
event will be a official fundraiser for the 2007
bemisUNDERGROUND season.
Comments: Read 1 orAdd Your Own.

Saturday, October 28th, 2006

Subject:call all out
Time:4:00 am.
grid to grit teeth tandem in tow between gums equally tightened

about the raincoat-
it threatens to pour

but usually bluffs with a climactic glaze over its own blank face

unreckoned piles of borrowed fiscal magazines
ghouls and videotape blanketing the fissure
vicelike cords
stripping them screws
to slick strips of silver alum
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Friday, October 13th, 2006

Time:11:17 pm.

it is too easy to mainline this
to manipulate these suffered needs
to sign a lease
to sign anything

it is too easy to just resign and
to realign
to be just fine and
to appreciate a middle ground so seceret once, now flayed for millions, scorched by the heat of
only one

how to transist ere'we'welcome whist, and differ in sleep patterns
here we wish and i speak of we thinking shamelessly of that unknown
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Tuesday, October 3rd, 2006

Subject:crisis sounds
Time:11:00 pm.
all over this town i have driven and driven to retrace steps and shake the trees empty of possibilities. strings ball and twist to trap and catch almost everything i wish, but still i am not satisfied because i have not been trained for it. sitting here in a basement which is not mine. i was not meant for this, i want to follow cris to chicago. maybe that would stick or fit somehow into the wobbling tower that i construct with a rake and a pick. or take more serious my cause and think the same of those who might be living hard against the demented overtones thrown out by bad nights, sleeping in a car. convinced there is something awake inside the moon, shifting its orbit out of the usual elliptical motion, and by repitition, there is a conclusion made. the moon does not move at all but i blink and skyward sink my gaze towards planet edging off the fix of my vision. so. there is that division. and others, more personal, more impossible to suffer alone. the fingers of his that will not let go, my voice that eaks out Yes and the No. and then practical thoughts blow through and i wait for a second to secure misery to a balloon and send it floating up in an atmospheric escape. shit. should i have stayed?
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Friday, September 29th, 2006

Time:11:54 am.
the rows bloomed outright without a name and were reasonably bright
for the viewing, and especially ripe
a perfect photo oppertunity to snap

other things were removed by road crews
dead things, animal things
all lifted into the backs of trucks and toted elsewhere
but the rows of un-named flowers stayed
and were accepted as such

very close to the end of one day
we drove too fast past those guileless flowers
skimming over colors, were we even aware?
i guess more serious thoughts were focused away from the guilt of passing
without the tiny offering of a recognition

or even looking them up in a book about flowers.
Comments: Add Your Own.

Wednesday, September 27th, 2006

Time:1:01 pm.

you are beautiful and unmatched with a haunt and a curse

with a hint of your birth from around the edge of an orphanage

he says

all sweet lands are no longer

we'll freak you out

he says

want to attempt big escape

be kind to everyone

tell me about it

from across one field of bliss i was thrust into angry comparison

and realizing everything

we faded rapidly

after the initial flush the flutter and oaths

three resounding shots in the distance coaxed

twisting streams of blackbirds from a tree

off like smoke!

go find anything to take the passivity from your heart girl

take it away take it off off he's over

now glean a certain edge to cancel out the interesting plot that picky rotgut lover

slowly took away

we shake and sever i long for you

we shake and sever i long for you

9:10 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos
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Sunday, September 24th, 2006

Time:12:08 pm.

anatole blast from the past pimp
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Friday, September 22nd, 2006

Subject:transformation model 1 + edit
Time:8:34 pm.

i am going to work at a montessori school which seems somewhat occultish. that is ok, i have always wanted to belong.............................................
Comments: Read 7 orAdd Your Own.

Wednesday, September 6th, 2006

Subject:perfect for Aunt Lynne
Time:5:34 pm.
You Must Accept
by Kate Light

You must accept that's who he really is.
You must accept you cannot be his
unless he is yours. No compromise.
He is a canvas on which paint never dries;
a clay that never sets, steel that bends
in a breeze, a melody that when it ends
no one can whistle. He is not who
you thought. He's not. He is a shoe
that walks away: "I will not go where you
want to go." "Why, then, are you a shoe?"
"I'm not. I have the sole of a lover
but don't know what love is." "Discover
it, then." "Will I have to go where you go?"
"Sometimes." "Be patient with you?" "Yes." "Then, no."
You have to hear what he is telling you
and see what he is; how it is killing you.
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Time:10:33 am.
fuckercunt. OPB just interrupted performance today to broadcast the president's speech on terror. i call that terrorism, shit. chopin kills JWB.

all of my stuff is scattered around the house in piles. it is quite a task to exctract myself from the house that has been my home for two months, considering that i tend to blur the lines of 'my space' and the rest of the house with ease. postcards on the fridge. mine. shells on the mantlepiece. mine. cds. books. clothes. shoes. money. magazines. photographs. it will all be delt with today, and then tomorrow i will leave. G+G Gardner are coming to collect me for another, final familial romp. i wonder how deep into the complexities of their 50 year old marriage i will be thrust. having just emerged from a weekend spent travelling from relative to relative in eastern oregon, i feel as if i've come close to understanding the many emotional deformities that plague my mother's side of the family.

my grandparents live on a large ranch overlooking a valley near the town of la grande. their palacial house overlooking a beautiful valley reminds me of an abandoned wasp's nest. one of those huge paper orbs that hangs in the trees as a testament to the lives that created it. JoAnne and Gary live alone in their vacant nest, saturated with a poisoned history and lolling about in the gloomy present.

the evening of our arrival, we eat dinner in a paralytic silence, words eaked out between bites of buffalo meat ribs and legumes. grandma's mind diteriorates and she forgets what is on the stove. my aunt and i step in and finish dinner preparations. grandpa spews rhetoric concerning the last book he read, grandma carves at his ego mercilessly. i listen to strained conversation about cousins that i never see, hear of aunts and uncles who exist somewhere along the coast- one a millionaire construction contractor with a son in the military and a hummer in the driveway.
after i was able to break away for sleep, i rested in what was my mother's bedroom. the bed is perched on wheels, it moved noisily over the wooden floor as i adjusted pillows and blankets. i imagined mom having the same irritating problem throughout all of those years living in that tiny room. i lost consciousness. i dreamed the house rising on the western side, and my bed careening down the length of the room, through the door and out into the hallway. family photo wall covered with frames, every face familiar in their way, the price children and their children hanging smiles through the glass, grandma by her piano in a seventies dress, grandpa feeding a cucumber to a cow. smiles. smiles. and down the staircase my bed rolls, i crash into the grand piano and bach fugues fly out of the bench, i hear them blend pointlessly with a hymn that my grandpa sang in church, everything losing effect and momentum- dripping off the canvas of my dream like heavy oil paint in from a brush. back in the kitchen the next morning, grandma is peeling peaches to be frozen. insults fly across the room towards my silent grandpa sleeping in a seated position in front of the t.v. where agassi wins a tennis match even though he's too old for professional sports. there are way too many metaphors going on at once, so i slip outside and notice that the pool is overflowing; the water turned on to fill it has been running all night long. i turn off the tap and walk out on to the painted deck, looking out over the valley. what a view. i am tanned and shorted, wearing powder blue shorts and deck shoes. a black tank top. my hair is bobbed. i feel like a teenager. i swear i've grown an inch taller this summer.
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Friday, September 1st, 2006

Time:5:26 pm.

i spent the whole morning making this song (the first one on the player)
the rest of today up until now was spent reading howard zinn
its getting really lonely out here

know of any good 1 bedroom apartments? i need a place....
Comments: Read 2 orAdd Your Own.

LiveJournal for -.

View:User Info.
You're looking at the latest 20 entries. Missed some entries? Then simply jump back 20 entries.