“write something every day for one year.”

day#248

9.5.10

i was reading her twitter page at 3am and she hasn’t posted in months.  where did all your time go and what did you do in the middle of the night while everyone else was sleeping?  cecilia i’m down on my knees, i’m begging you please to come home.  i sleep after i shower and wake up late.  or is it early?  either way, i pack up my pipe and i’m ready to go.  like don draper with his scotch.  my job never ends.  i must create.  i must make these movies.  i gotta generate income.  american man.  21st century.  an artist.  a filmmaker.  you make a living that way.  cathedral bells dripping down the alleyways.  and i’m listening to the simon and garfunkel like i was beginning sixth grade it was the fall of 1990.  that was 20 years ago.  two decades.  they got me running like a brook down weston road on a dark suburban night moonless.  the olfactory senses the smell of burning leaves.  and now they wanna play with our memories like they were computer keys.  letters on holidays don’t arrive.  i’ll keep on running.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#247

9.4.10

6am cutting and exporting to 6am bergman.  winter light in the labor days of summer becoming fall.  went for a walk and got some groceries.  cooked up dinner and did two loads of laundry.  new machines in the complex.  upgrade.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#246

9.3.10

he is gonna be broadcasting 2nite.  shabbat shalom.  love is watching someone die.   so who’s gonna watch you die?   she got on an uptown train and i didn’t see her again that summer in the city, in the city it wasn’t summer anymore.  labor days.  a story adrift in ink lines on paper colored with the dawn.  it starts with a kiss on your neck and a nibble on your ear.  deja vu coming back to you.  say hello.  ernst lubitsch and allan dwan.  i just wanna make movies.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#245

9.2.10

osiris dionysis.  a new god.  i stayed up late.  wrote poems.  i wanted my poems to sing like songs contemporary and baroque.  she moves with such style, i don’t see her anymore, i can’t see her anymore.  summer is gone again and september is here.  the kids are starting school.  we smoked all night and made art into the dawn past the people with jobs, houses and kids.  so let me see your excitement let me gaze into your gaze.  i ain’t got nothing to say cept so long.  i guess i like being alone sometimes.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#244

9.1.10

scratch pad.  pocket notebook.  late at night.  alone in bed.  pipe is packed.  clothes are off.  i didn’t want to cause you any trouble.  i didn’t want to cause you any pain.  just give me an old pocket notebook weathered, well-written and worn, brimming with the blood and ink of dreams, doubts and directions of days in months of years now gone.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#243

8.31.10

in a bedroom on the street outside a house in suburbia.  city lights in the background.  outcasts celebrate together.  i could have done things differently.  should have said something sooner, smoother.  i just didn’t do it right.  my desires are pantomime for my emotions mixed you are not the only one.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#242

8.30.10

a penny for your thoughts poneyboy stay gold.  let it shine on me like jerry garcia tickling them strings with those psychedelic fingers don’t go chasing waterfalls.  ali baba with the thieves 40 days in the desert one more day in august.  she’s gonna be leaving on a jet plane and you don’t care.  i grind my ash into smoke.  dream away the day with honey in my eyes and oil anoited on my crown.  these are the days.  when you were young.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#241

8.29.10

it doesn’t make me feel good to break your heart.  i don’t wanna cause you any pain.  don’t try to rationalize my fickle emotions.  i should have told you as soon as i knew.

“write something every day for one year.”

day#240

8.28.10

set my itunes to shuffle and buffalo tom’s “summer” comes on.  and it’s the last saturday night in august.  and i’m in the saddle of technology working and getting high.  you really wanted me to come over to the valley.  your parents are away and you said we could have a pajama party when i said i already had my pj’s on.  i’d rather work on my movie then be with you 2nite.  in the sand. . .

“write something every day for one year.”

day#239

8.27.10

it’s a friday night and i’d rather be alone.  i don’t know how to tell you but i got work to do.   i’m all over my screen and you’re all over my mind inside and out it’s a cruel cruel summer leaving me here on my own.  i got poems and i got songs.  i got friends in places high and low.  pick me up and turn me round home is where i want to be.  naive melodies over spring ohio nights.  it was the end of the 20th century and we were falling in love on ecstasy.  now a decade into 21 black sweatpants from ireland well worn 401am shabbat shalom.  a naughty innocence you aren’t faking you for real your addictions keep you down and your addictions help you up.  harry chapin flying so high when he’s stoned in his taxi taking tips.  and we laid in the grass.  we laid on the beach.  we laid in the back of my truck on a hot and dusty day in black rock city.  but she’s gone and she’s gone and she’s gone.  never coming back again.