08
You can tell someone died
because the photo feels empty.
Spotless wood floors and
picture frame ghosts.
It's the scene in a movie
when everything's done
and the light from outside
becomes its own character.
07
259.6 KB.
Missing.
An un-textured surface.
Extra.
Ripples of caustic soda on the carpet.
Absent.
Two bare light bulbs mounted to the ceiling.
Superfluous.
Two bunched up washcloths stuck to the shower.
Desk.
Truth.
Magnify.
Pixels.
06
Fence grown through with shrubs and trees
a darkness creeping long, out like knives,
roots, and menace. The sidewalk home is
crooked and uneven. Will you walk through
the gate toward your obvious doom?
Yes / No
06
Painted plywood held in place.
A wave of light rounds to a point
then trapezoids up and over until
it fades to shadows across four windows.
It makes the concrete more interesting.
Outdoor ceiling fan.
05
Caramel stuck to the bottom of your feet.
Stare up at the parallel florescent fixtures.
The furnace says you can't leave,
so you drown yourself in the utility sink
04
Another blue room
with a body in the closet.
Photos fall down like leaves
as the glue shows its age.
Beyond, there is a door
permanently shut.
Pullup-bar.
03
Dark wood, plastic bag, and broom handle.
The ground is always confusing in these places.
Three rectangles on the door.
P.S.
The photograph is grainy.
Not the things themselves.
02
The thumbnail looked like a glowing Roman archway. But it was actually plaster on cracked walls with a ceiling ready to collapse. Strange garbage littered the floor.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chunk_(information)
01
Gilded tears against a bulging blue
more like turquoise, lamp shade
and inexplicably curved glass.
The tropical shirt pattern pinned to the wall
some other time exploded there.
Evidence: a corner turned charcoal.
Everything in motion, very slowly.
We're not in this story.
Why am I telling this story?
Grey snowy weekends. Hoard downloads from Hotline servers. Yahoo! Groups. Reread e-zine articles and webpages and change my desktop background to a new logo. It's quiet except my headphones which are way too loud. Tapping at keys to organize sound. Breathing. Maybe we'll do something later, at night, when the snow isn't ugly and the driving feels special because the lights look different than normal. Flip through used CDs or thrift store racks (missed opportunities). Today it's earlier than then and very different but I feel it a bit.
I only see in reverse.
The shelf covered in death and plastic. Head tilted to the side, a soft yellow light shines sacredly on all of it. A plucked psaltery. A past life. The sound of the fan is too loud and feels wrong. Like a noisy silence. An exhaustion. Something scary.
Field #7.
Chewing gum.
Butcher paper.
Ice cubes.
////
Pillar of snow falling in a sliver of light. Shining like magic or Hollywood (boring).
It's bad how bad it is, how bad, how bad it is.
We were going north in a little red car that didn’t warm up fast. Some tradition on the radio, some boring conversation on top. I stared out of the frosted windows at the cut fields covered in light snow. It was the day he died. I was told through text. He was the last of them. I don’t remember anything else.
Crossing fingers.
My mouth feels fizzy what's the future.
Never found again a mistake you can't outlive.
Paragraphs.
"My reward is that one day it ends."
Valued team member.
Whose blood is it brush my teeth. It's like could do but don't why come? Link to think about language past tense journaling electronically discouraged not encouraged disapproving disappointing never believed never found again last seen 2009(?) maybe. That's okay, it was just a curiosity. HTML. 404.
Anyway.
A fly in November.
Link(s):
Dumbass learned a new word and keeps saying it.
Cult leader.
Parasite rain.
The dog
laid beneath
the hydrangea
for at least
and hour.
Is this home a tomb?
Nothing ever changes,
it just piles up.
I'm kind of
unfortunately
all out of
ideas.
Asbestos Chain of Custody Form
I just want
something(?)
Words are great because they are free.
The dog jumped from the bed too loudly at 5am.
A river barge calling out from the foggy night. Swamp grey. Nightmare New Orleans. Heartbeat / breath, can't catch up.
Worthwhile glow. Worthwhile wait. "When do I get my reward?"
I had a toy organ. Maybe two. I maybe still have one but it's covered in plaster dust if I do.
Elegant shadow. Are these the last days here? Sunset cat statue. Sunset mirror reflection.
This music sounds like snow falling on a city when all cellphones were dumb. What's my motive? I want to drink my morning coffee somewhere new.
Mistakes. Trying for nothing. Bad episodes. Killed becomes killer. Boring eternity. The impossibility of being prepared. Better luck next time.
Sunlight through old glass, an impression on the ceiling, angled, angel, cross-hatched and age streaked. Better luck next time.
Yellow house across from a cemetery.
Art critics hate art. I'll try to not think about it. A plastic shield. Incense. "It's nothing special, but yeah, it means something to me."
Magic rocks.
"You can blame me for something else, but not that."
Thinking season. Real names. Feel something. Time out.
This blanket has cowboys, horses, mountains, and cows. Cool blue, cool summer, fold it into a pillow. Life could have been different, high desert, high clouds. In the car, in the backseat, watching the thunderheads roll north. Making it back. The opposite direction.
The linen closet smell followed us wherever we went. A comfort I did not recognize until now. Slept on the floor or slept on the boat. Either way, I was always glad to be home.
The first dusting of snow. Ugly like Thanksgiving. It's faded in various ways. The leaves closest to the house take forever to fall.
Hurt today, bit lip yesterday. What a weird world they live through. What an odd distance. Obligatory Rx. I should carry a paperback dictionary.
Stasis hardened through necessity. The taste of dill.
Corpse flow. Dead water.
Slow progress / still progress.
The Phantasm mausoleum.
Link(s):
The quiet and the empty. It feels like it felt like, like it cycles like, like nothing like new. It's not even bad, it's just being jaded.
Now barely backwards or upside down. Maybe we've gone as far as we can go. Want to watch it for the first time again, how it all falls down, how it all ends, begins.
Not getting there fast enough.
Link(s):
Waiting weeks.
Cartoon tunnels. Endless Iowa. Evasion.
Link(s):
Waiting lifetimes.
Cartoon haunted house style wind. Ghosts or whatever.
Optimistic understanding of time that seems pretty pessimistic when you think about it.
... boring ...
The fist has become worthless.
Barbed wire. A helicopter on fire.
The physics of spinning out.
Artichoke corpse. Favorite kick drum. I followed the sound down wet sidewalks between skyscrapers, unrecognizable.
Link(s):
Two million street signs pointed to "exit." Flashing warning lights and headaches. Santa Fe, cactus, or human shaped balloons.
You seem pretty happy about it.
But I guess I understand.
How can anyone be surprised anymore?
Whatever difficult thing I am, I won't apologize for.
Creepy guest room. Blue comforter. Looking at a painting and knowing that the models are really, really dead.
Seeing them see
the TRUTH.
Oh, poisoned well of humanity.
"I love you million dollar video shoot."
"Like, what are you even trying to say?"
"This camera is all wrong."
"Pain in sepia pop songs."
I can only think of ways to say that I can't think of a way to say it.
Collecting seeds at the park on the solstice. Harsh noise with a contact mic. Anthotype patience.
I don't know. That explains a lot. Low effort, weird choice.
Working on a short film but it's at the stage where I can't tell if I hate it or not. Imaginary rave afterparty and/or real hotel room phantasm. Slow progress on everything. Thunder or fireworks? Thunder.
Another downpour. The taxidermy hallway in high school.
Multi-effects looper pedal.
Cleaning. Rearranging.
Confetti 2: Unburiable ("Not ready or not proper to be buried.").
Link(s):
You can see it in his eyes, on the webcam, in the interview.
Peach clouds, mirrored. Bad DJ. I'm tired.
I have a short piece in the newest issue of SCAB (link below).
"Watching words humorless."
"Rabies vaccine."
Link(s):
Fate. It's hot but the sun is low. Leaves are starting to fall.
Link(s):
Mirrors. It's already almost the middle of the month.
Link(s):
I would probably cry if I saw Underworld perform "Rez/Cowgirl" live.
Abstract painters born after... I don't actually know when he was born but I think he moved to Michigan.
Link(s):
Dead musicians on haunted CD-Rs. Ritual music on sacred CD-Rs. Hallways, either way.
Sad disconnect, wanna watch TV?
Link(s):
Cheap sounds. Undecided weather. Cold rain overlay pine tree. Song for highways into sunsets. I can see across two streets and through two yards. I saw seven or eight UFOs and/or mylar balloons.
Link(s):
A beautiful photograph of something ugly.
Sometimes I think about words too much.
Link(s):
Hawks have been visiting the neighborhood and this morning I saw a cat hunting in my backyard.
The word "purchase."
Link(s):
Fear. Patience. Tiresome. Fear.
Guiltless pixels against a wall.
Absolution. Employment law.
Dizzy from spreadsheets. Thinking about turmeric and time. High NRG and/or freestyle. Amanda Nicole and bottle rockets.
We ran through corn fields. It was probably 50 degrees out. My skin was pink and burning cold. My lungs hurt. It's totally whatever. Her Air Force birthday party, I have no ill will, but it all feels like a teen slasher sorta. Like scrambling the lyrics to "I Hate Everything About You." Friday night lights I never saw. "Some things last a long time."
Dusty forgotten note pads in boxes in the basement. An everlasting moment movie scene. Pitch black tape loop warbles and the wet dead leaves shiver. Field after fence after field after fence. Drudgery ghost in soaked boots collecting shadows. No fire can warm this. No trespassing. The death of twee. Olympia underwater.
Sick of this millennial curse.
Link(s):
The cicadas are loud again today. It feels like my ears are ringing when I go inside.
One of my cameras spontaneously circuit bent itself and then spontaneously un-bent itself. It's an old, cheap digital point-and-shoot so it's not surprising that it breaks occasionally.
A hand holding a receipt and a box of pills.
Link(s):
A helicopter paused in the sky.
Link(s):
Accepting imperfections. Time & light. Unfinished projects. The source material collected.
(Things picking at skin things picking at brain things picking at things atop things picking on things.)
Nag champa memories.
Link(s):
The cicadas are loud this year. It's not even that hot. I saw a big spider on the back door. I saw a big spiderweb in the garden. Tooth ground down and temporary. Curtains dawn.
Hackberry milk.
Link(s):
Dull edge. Dull needle. We saw a lot of butterflies. Polka dot bodies. Why would you kill it?
Link(s):
Eternal verification. Fangs of the New World screwworm. 20 years ago. Police baton.
Link(s):
A terrible idea. Deactivate. It will get worse now.
Honesty, honestly, the world can feel too small. A lack of context ruins the big picture. A very large picture. So big you can't see the edges. Still, the world can feel too small. I'm sure I've always misunderstood the concept of magical currents.
Air purifier white noise/notes. Pollen and insects criss.x.cross. Thistle seeds float together. Strict practice. Solid schedule. Jam packed. No exit.
Link(s):