aback

to whom it may concern,

i thought of something the other morning and mourned it as long lost. then as magic does every so often delight it came out of no where. holy mackerel. i felt the virgin river running cold under foot, saw dark canyon walls closing in, my truck's window smashed, long stretches of nothingness only Nevada, of course, could bring, avacados and budweiser for breakfast, and all the laughing i almost went deaf. in the middle of my kitchen, in cambridge, i swear i could smell the sage...which reminded me a wise man once said "one should only ever hide for half of forever." nah jus kiddin, i just made that up.

garage stuff

paw

sararae

@ MFA

Love 20¢ The First Quarter Mile by Kenneth Fearing

All right. I may have lied to you and about you, and made a few pronouncements a bit too sweeping, perhaps, and possibly forgotten to tag the bases here or there, And damned your extravagence, and maligned your tastes, and libeled your relatives, and slandered a few of your friends, O.K., Nevertheless, come back. Come home. I will agree to forget the statements that you issued so copiously to the neighbors and the press, And you will forget that figment of your imagination, the blonde from Detroit; I will agree that your lady friend who lives above us is not crazy, bats, nutty as they come, but on the contrary rather bright, And you will concede that poor old Steinberg is neither a drunk, nor a swindler, but simply a guy, on the eccentric side, trying to get along. (Are you listening, you bitch, and have you got this straight?) Because I forgive you, yes, for everything. I forgive you for being beautiful and generous and wise, I forgive you, to put it simply, for being alive, and pardon you, in short, for being you. Because tonight you are in my hair and eyes, And every street light that our taxi passes shows me you again, still you, And because tonight all other nights are black, all other hours are cold and far away, and now, this minute, the stars are very near and bright Come back. We will have a celebration to end all celebrations. We will invite the undertaker who lives beneath us, and a couple of boys from the office, and some other friends. And Steinberg, who is off the wagon, and that insane woman who lives upstairs, and a few reporters, if anything should break.

mostly i avoid quoting my brother, for shear self preservation

"I don't argue with baby-boomers, as a general rule: instead, I blame them for Reagan and choose to ignore anything they say." s. a. breen

eight seventeen

eight seventeen pee em

three twenty one two thousand and ten

the limit of control plays

gary waits to pounce

brian waits to leave

me too

elyse will be left

we all love

love to come and go

and each other

we all want to stay forever

(i think)

i think about last night

and being so mad

i was happy

to go in

get warm

and have my heart return

(it stopped working)

(everyone saw)

i forgot:

eat before you're hungry

rest before you're tired

nothing

nothing was left

sorrily i undressed

charlie gettin franced up by a gator

brian will not be asked for anymore photo titles / zero gravity

i woman seldom returns quickly to her when he calls her a... (????)

hot fire

not pork rinds in montana

hypothermic shits

i love brian so much i can't admit it to myself / gary

italian blanket

5203 worth

gramma's kitchen

take your time

phone vs phone

street boat sign line