:: THISWEEK ::

5–10–15 to 5–15–15


every date this week is a palindrome

nailed all the curtains to the wall

the blackboard is erased in the attic

I am dropping jewels into a well

pale glamour

I can fashion space, chaste and grave

when the storm rattles my window pane / I’ll stay hunched at my desk / deep inside the thrill of conjuring spring / with the force of my will

night closed like a book / a blur of connotations / ripped from the hour / and tossed like a jewel / down a well / the answer to a question / I’ve already forgotten

a big stick don’t make a shepherd if he don't control the flock

you’re approval has soured / my friends disappeared like smoke / I count the hours

my campfire / starved but grinning / at me through this dark

here’s a dictionary / so you can have some company / words with which to wrap yourself / when the wind kicks up / and you’re locked out

we eased into the big afternoon / lowered our shoulders / removed our boots

soul like a swimming pool hit by a tsunami

the phone rings and it’s a wrong number and you’re heart is lighter

the bamboo won’t stop growing in my backyard / I need a pet panda to mow the law

I can remember it all as easily as the day I was born

monstrous tenderness

in anycase her name / became an empty space / to be filled in / by missing

what I stand for is a bare canvas

“ass-thetes”

my tone of voice didn’t sound convincing to myself

the inertia of festering

everything dreamed in enclosed spaces is contagious

wrath never recognizes differences in magnitude

I’m a tourist lost in the billowing dust

“El Elvis”

gonna open a brothel in WASH DC called “internal affairs”

unfinished is the nature of all business

you wanted space / well you made it when you went away

How to make great art: Number One) DON’T MAKE ART Number Two) LET ME MAKE ART FOR YOU

a construction worker using an enormous 2 x 4 helped an old man retrieve his cane from a tree’s highest branch

facing boredom head on is an act of bravery

gangsta rap // film noir

subway graffiti // snapchat

got a job / so I’m ethically marred / now day by day / I’m decorating my house in shades of gray

fiction of a picture

bank rolls big enough to choke a horse

Muhammad Ali had a cornerman named Mr. Kopps / and they used to hunch down in the corner between rounds / and write poems together / their hands just hanging on to the ropes

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