“write something every day for one year.”
day#59
2.28.10
bubble bath brahms smoking bowls saying prayers reading henry miller another saturday nite by candlelight. sandalwood and palo santo. a pattern in the rhythm of radio frequencies communicating through 80’s pop, classic rock, oldies and npr.
“write something every day for one year.”
day#58
2.27.10
i pulled into nazareth was feeling bout half past dead
and the mountains win again.
an old mix tape plays in my sentimental head on a friday nite becoming saturday morning shabbat shalomage yesterdays and days to come
it played in florence, it played in rome, an adolescent misconstrued, i used to misunderstand my heart. but you taught me something else until i forgot it for a six pack and a sophmore.
“write something every day for one year.”
day#57
2.26.10
fresh salad, bubble bath. rejoice and recover and reignite. this flame takes the cake takes the heat like a moth burn me up in the one. a unity of moments all leading up to this transcendence. your heart my lips your kiss. my eyes your thighs say hello say goodbye. and so sally can wait, she knows it’s too late as we’re walking on by, her soul slides away, but don’t look back in anger, i heard you say.
“write something every day for one year.”
day#56
2.25.10
phone calls in kodachrome, farmer’s market smiles. fresh produce, auld lang syne. your text and your kiss are gone. now just a sink of dirty dishes. clean me up, it’s party time.
“write something every day for one year.”
day#55
2.24.10
the kitchen is a mess, i’m recovered and looking good. cupcake breakfast 3pm. chicken soup, phone calls and emails. a grayed wednesday. keep on doing whatchya do and when you do it, do it well.
“write something every day for one year.”
day#54
2.23.10
they say it’s your birthday. well it’s my birthday too. at least it was. . . now 31. soaked and massaged. lifted and celebrated. loved and was loved. amen. aho. selah.
“write something every day for one year.”
day#53
2.22.10
chicken soup. shoot, cut and create. just a few hours till 31.
“write something every day for one year.”
day#52
2.21.10
this sweet love is a sunday afternoon. at the counter @ nick’s. (one of my favorite places in la, the celts are playing denver on the tv)
i can hear the quick wit of my father in my cadence and intonation speaking to oscar and the gang, asking them how’s business and their families.
writing poems in pocket notebooks. eating pancakes with my hands.
“write something every day for one year.”
day#51
2.20.10
51 days of prose. saturday afternoon sun shines through the closed window of the bedroom. gonna take a shower. you’ve got your hand on the button now.
