running
running
running
drinks with RoseMarie
townes van zandt
matt sweeney and bonnie 'prince' billy
songs: ohia
rewriting
rewriting
rewriting
walks with my brother
trees
the river
anchor steam
syrah
apricot ale!
reading michael ondaatje
sharon olds
franz wright
wrote franz wright a letter
wrote grandma francis
buddy carl
mofo
three months into the new year
give or take
give
rain in central texas
you...
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running
running
drinks with RoseMarie
townes van zandt
matt sweeney and bonnie 'prince' billy
songs: ohia
rewriting
rewriting
rewriting
walks with my brother
trees
the river
anchor steam
syrah
apricot ale!
reading michael ondaatje
sharon olds
franz wright
wrote franz wright a letter
wrote grandma francis
buddy carl
mofo
three months into the new year
give or take
give
rain in central texas
you...
Read More
OBEY XMAS
i want to obey
the christmas tree, shipwrecked against the big front windows
weighed down by fake starlight
and glass dolls
hanging
from wire and hooks
obey the porcelain angel, her white arms open in a sign of forgiveness
the tree up her ass
her eyes painted on
she lives in heaven
with my grandfather, my dead friends, and richard nixon
and has...
Read More
i want to obey
the christmas tree, shipwrecked against the big front windows
weighed down by fake starlight
and glass dolls
hanging
from wire and hooks
obey the porcelain angel, her white arms open in a sign of forgiveness
the tree up her ass
her eyes painted on
she lives in heaven
with my grandfather, my dead friends, and richard nixon
and has...
Read More
rosemarie:
I loved it.
Happy New Year honey.
see you on the other side,
Rose
Happy New Year honey.
see you on the other side,
Rose
months and months away
with the cacti
of central texas
meanwhile,
i've been thinking about a franz wright poem:
year one
i was still standing
on a northern corner
moonlight the color of the desperation of wolves
proof of your existence?
there is nothing
but.
with the cacti
of central texas
meanwhile,
i've been thinking about a franz wright poem:
year one
i was still standing
on a northern corner
moonlight the color of the desperation of wolves
proof of your existence?
there is nothing
but.
portland oregon summer.
overcast, the sky a little like concrete with blue chalk washed across it.
the coffee will never be ready.
"DOGS" by nina natasia
love is hell pt2 by ryan adams
ease down the road by bonney prince billy
'neath your covers by the cowboy junkies
margo timmins for president.
sometimes i could sit out on this porch forever
it seems.
the wind...
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overcast, the sky a little like concrete with blue chalk washed across it.
the coffee will never be ready.
"DOGS" by nina natasia
love is hell pt2 by ryan adams
ease down the road by bonney prince billy
'neath your covers by the cowboy junkies
margo timmins for president.
sometimes i could sit out on this porch forever
it seems.
the wind...
Read More
rosemarie:
Are you still around? I really miss your journal entries. 
Hope you are well and happy. Come back soon.
Hope you are well and happy. Come back soon.
back from northern idaho.
still thinking about the trees.
jen smelled like the lake.
it's late here in portland and the stars are up.
but you know that.
shining.
there.
if i could dream about anything tonight it would be swimming.
water everywhere.
the light
skipping across the lake.
look at this: the light
skipping
finally, finally,
across the lake.
there is a darkness
but...
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still thinking about the trees.
jen smelled like the lake.
it's late here in portland and the stars are up.
but you know that.
shining.
there.
if i could dream about anything tonight it would be swimming.
water everywhere.
the light
skipping across the lake.
look at this: the light
skipping
finally, finally,
across the lake.
there is a darkness
but...
Read More
rosemarie:
Ahhh. This one is very pretty. Happy birthday, my friend. I hope that you are doing something special today.
Sending love your way,
RoseMarie
Sending love your way,
RoseMarie
tonight seems like a short night.
oh but tomorrow i'm off to northern idaho/canada
a long drive with friends
then hiking
and stars
stars
stars
stars
two Buson poems about short nights
like tonight:
The short night;
waves beating in,
an abandoned fire.
The short night;
near the pillow,
a screen silvering.
***
'night
oh but tomorrow i'm off to northern idaho/canada
a long drive with friends
then hiking
and stars
stars
stars
stars
two Buson poems about short nights
like tonight:
The short night;
waves beating in,
an abandoned fire.
The short night;
near the pillow,
a screen silvering.
***
'night
maddy:
piggy back ride eh...interesting
rosemarie:
Oh, I am just going through my list of old loves and writing stories about them and the things we did.
Because I'm bored.
Because I'm bored.
who will read this.
just back from a show.
late night in portland.
on the way home--
stars and trees.
***
the latest poem about flying:
Maybe, everyone in your dream is you.
So that's you
Floating above your bed in the flattened dark.
Looking down at yourself.
Sleeping.
When I think of the bones we need for flying
I think of paperwhites, but also...
Read More
just back from a show.
late night in portland.
on the way home--
stars and trees.
***
the latest poem about flying:
Maybe, everyone in your dream is you.
So that's you
Floating above your bed in the flattened dark.
Looking down at yourself.
Sleeping.
When I think of the bones we need for flying
I think of paperwhites, but also...
Read More
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
rosemarie:
I just came across what you wrote about my set. Thank you. You made my night. 
rosemarie:
I feel like a stalker, writing in your journal three times. Anyway I got your entry in my journal.
When I was a young girl, my dad would screech to a halt on the dry dusty backroads, and with his pocketknife, would slice up cactus apples and show my brother and me how to survive on the local flora. Doug and I were too busy with teenage acne and angst. We tasted the stuff with bored expressions, never realizing that it would hit us down the road, that dad was earnest and real, and that his tales and lessons would make us who we are now.
love and wishes,
RoseMarie
p.s. what does the "M" stand for?
When I was a young girl, my dad would screech to a halt on the dry dusty backroads, and with his pocketknife, would slice up cactus apples and show my brother and me how to survive on the local flora. Doug and I were too busy with teenage acne and angst. We tasted the stuff with bored expressions, never realizing that it would hit us down the road, that dad was earnest and real, and that his tales and lessons would make us who we are now.
love and wishes,
RoseMarie
p.s. what does the "M" stand for?
who will read this.
the moon is up!
the moon is down!
the moon is up!
i'm going to bake a cake.
doesn't that sound nice?
what did you do
i baked a cake
the moon is up!
the moon is down!
the moon is up!
i'm going to bake a cake.
doesn't that sound nice?
what did you do
i baked a cake
rosemarie:
Um, your favorite sexual positions are the same as mine 
who renewed my subscription
missy suicide
or someone else
what a nice
thing