A part of me tonight will leave this porch and never come back, an unidentified, low flying thing—across the bridge, down the hill, through the tunnels lit like a bad dream hospital, over the railing and into the green. Some part of me so known that now there is no next but leaving the nest; something sloughed off with the cells. You keep growing maybe missing it, but moreso proud because you nutured to the limit and then, let fly.

Dearly departed hilt of self, expelled in expression and lost between footsteps, pauses, touch—I stand by where you left. Off to rejoin the soldier souls before you. Wave the goodbye loud. Behind you saluting room for more.

Do you wanna get married here
To the sound of the lighter flicks
To the cigarette circle witnesses
The ladies leaving for air
Too much dancing, stumbling

All the little things
Wear shoes you can run in honey
The haul for your life sprint from corner store to apartment
The skateboard jerks who chased us
Plaid jacket puffs of breath cold
Little carrot vapors on sticks
All the little things
Like the sun
Lady above us laying hands on everything

The most beautiful track
Doesn’t have words
Doesn’t have a memory
Works through breaks, punch in the overtime
The most beautiful times
Are when we are so caught up in being alive
The ground moves away, lets the heels run amuck and they do
A levitate fate
Stuttered earth i love you

There comes a time
When you forget to be
Anything but this
The façade drops, the mouth flows
There is just a figment of belief
A grass blade penned in the palm
A delicate place in the teeth
Place important dreams here
Let the stories kick off the covers again
Sleep the sheet into a curled evidence
(we sweat here)
the light and time is marvelous
heart in museums? Resilient.

The night is showing up, pulling the streetlight onto the floor to dance. The bulb looks cracked because it’s just starting to breathe. Sky, in between, turns the color of my tea. I’m under power lines, back past the ruckus of young kids on the street, yelling at anyone that walks by them too close. The lone girl of the group shifted her hip, pops her gum—that dissatisfied perfection of youth and boredom, the attention turned to the anonymous. People were crossing the street to avoid their stoop circle, perched on a closed second hand store. Hands in the air at odd times, restless. I assist in the pick up of a spilled bag on the street—the mom thanks me, and the little boy with her asks if I want something. He holds out the black bag in his hands and we all stand there for the presenting. It’s the bag. He wants to give me the bag. The mom says no no, she has a bag. He answers my thank you with a thank you, I’m not sure what that means. I like the idea of nobody being welcomed.

Nowhere to sit and write tonight—I walked the length for nothing. I come back to sandpiper my porch and watch the shadows grow from nothing to all. Rooftop and flight tower, leaf loops pushed apart–the trees and all their little mouths.

Deltron 3030…still one of my favorite albums. Two tracks:

(reposting this from Tait’s website)

Principles Against The Spirit Of The Age
Walk places, don’t just drive.
Listen to albums, not just songs.
Read books, not just articles.
Watch films, not just clips.
Have sex, not just orgasms.
Take time, don’t just kill it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Last night was just wonderful. I really appreciate the support of everyone who could make it out. It means a lot to me. Here’s to getting on stage more often over the next few months.

I’ll be updating more later…big changes afoot.

I wish I could explain how excited I am for the reading tomorrow, to get on stage because it’s been a while. Just know this heart wants to bust. Writing means the world to me.

Yesterday, I received a box in the mail. I thought: Oh sweet, the fenders my dad told me about. He knew that I needed some for the bike(he’s an avid cyclist and loves to support my riding).

Opened the box, and found:

fenders, as mentioned.
a floor pump(needed; I’ve been sporting the travel pump)
a riding jersey(sweet)
one raincoat(”bright yellow, just like mine,” he said)
tire levers and extra tubes(needed extras)
and on backorder, a cateye computer to track mileage and speed(!!!!!)

Way more than fenders. My dad is amazing.

EDIT: Also in the box:

riding gloves
mechanic bag for my bike seat

[above: steel building swaddled in fog on friday morning; midnite snake/brain handle show..some of the crowd(and this was taken fairly early); the wind; grocery run; reflecting times with Abacus]

next on the agenda, some of this: