Wednesday, June 30, 2010
By Brad Johnson
I point out Orion's belt
but you've still got your gas station sunglasses on.
You're like a dead star whose light reaches us millennia after its
It's summer and Orion's a winter constellation anyway.
You've still got your gas station sunglasses on
and haven't said a word since I picked you up.
It's summer. I know Orion's a winter constellation
but I look for it whenever the night is clear.
You haven't said a word since I picked you up.
On the porch, a candle flame leaps from its wick in the
I looked for you whenever my nights were clear
and now you're here, lifting your leg, tugging your shorts from
A candle flame on the porch leaps from its wick in the wind
and a star shoots through the sky like the lit match you toss into
before lifting your leg to tug your shorts out of your crotch
while claiming "If something's worth doing once, it's worth doing
A star shoots through the sky like the lit match you tossed into
We're both like dead stars whose light reaches earth millennia after they've
but maybe you're right. If it's worth doing once, it might be worth
So I point out Orion's belt.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
"It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. "
(Girlfriend you had talent. From one writer to another, happy birthday. )
By Kim Addonizio
Guess what. If love is only chemistry-
phenylathylamine, that molecule
that dizzie up the brain’s back room, smoky
with hot bebop, it won’t be long until
a single worker’s mopping up the scuffed
and littered floor, whistling tunelessly,
each endorphin cooling like a snuffed
glass candle, the air stale with memory.
So what, you say; outside, a shadow lifts
a trumpet from its case, lifts it like an ingot
and scatters a few virtuosic riffs
toward the locked-down stores. You’ve quit
believing that there’s more, but you’re still stirred
enough to stop, and wait, listening hard.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
and today is the 75th Anniversary of Alcoholics Anonymous being founded.
So I'm taking up this pointless white space, on an ambiguous blog, in an abyss of internet chaos, to say thank you.
Tackling something like alcoholism was a ballsy move and I commend you, Bill & Bob, for having some big cojones. An estimated 2 million members is nothin to sneeze at
(Sunrise at Tahoe)
“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.”
Monday, June 7, 2010
(The follower version)
1. My lack of recent writing
2. The pimple on my chin
3. Friends who are visiting from very far away
4. Jack Shepard
5. Early September
6. "deep roots are not reached by the frost"
7. My cats desire to escape out the window
8. A recent visit to the OBGYN
9. EH Shepard
10. Crumpled closure of friendship
11. World cup (World Cup world cup)
12. Being a teacher/professor/phony
13. A photo I saw of a bird smothered in oil.
14. A phone call from an "unavailable" number - who?
15. Positive thinking
17. June, on my Nuns Having Fun calender, shows them at a fair
18. A field I used to roll down as a child
20. The five books next to my bed - each only 20pgs read
22. Following something faceless
23. Forgotten passwords
24. Being old(er)