my ink is fresher than your ink...
top story tonight: I had my favorite IPA tonight- Dogfish Head 60 minute...yum. Spent the day re-reading Kite Runner, making it officially the only book i've read in one day...twice...am starting to get a little shaky about metting Hosseini, intimidated. he's an excellent writer which i esteem far more than celebrity. i am more jazzed about this opportunity than if i were to meet some low-rent movie star. the poem i wrote that got published is a bit lesbich and sounds much better read aloud-- so much for no disclaimers-- (pretend Saul Williams is reading it to you):
She said things would be easier
If we could be lovers
At 4 am on the phone
Miles North of her
I sat
on my couch
Wondering what she was wearing;
What she was on
At 4 am people are honest
At 4 am
when you dont have to look at her
You can talk hypothetical
She was smoke-talking
And the words
and the smoke flowed
Out of her together
Like expelling them both
Were vital or
She would choke
She went on--
Great Love talking,
Inhaling
exhaling
Making me squirm and agree
Silently craving
blushing
nodding
Wishing she was on this couch
Or I was on that curb
The distance
from here to there
That inconceivable switch--
North is to South as
Straight is to-- something.
We hung up after hours
And hours at this
Our lines all static and fog
with smoke in our phones
And ears
Cloudy at six or seven
am. Returned to the facts
And left our
Flight.
Starting to dream as
Sun rose on the east
Coast--
Both North and South
Felt that warm morning light.
The death of night talk
And fantastic hypotheticals.
top story tonight: I had my favorite IPA tonight- Dogfish Head 60 minute...yum. Spent the day re-reading Kite Runner, making it officially the only book i've read in one day...twice...am starting to get a little shaky about metting Hosseini, intimidated. he's an excellent writer which i esteem far more than celebrity. i am more jazzed about this opportunity than if i were to meet some low-rent movie star. the poem i wrote that got published is a bit lesbich and sounds much better read aloud-- so much for no disclaimers-- (pretend Saul Williams is reading it to you):
She said things would be easier
If we could be lovers
At 4 am on the phone
Miles North of her
I sat
on my couch
Wondering what she was wearing;
What she was on
At 4 am people are honest
At 4 am
when you dont have to look at her
You can talk hypothetical
She was smoke-talking
And the words
and the smoke flowed
Out of her together
Like expelling them both
Were vital or
She would choke
She went on--
Great Love talking,
Inhaling
exhaling
Making me squirm and agree
Silently craving
blushing
nodding
Wishing she was on this couch
Or I was on that curb
The distance
from here to there
That inconceivable switch--
North is to South as
Straight is to-- something.
We hung up after hours
And hours at this
Our lines all static and fog
with smoke in our phones
And ears
Cloudy at six or seven
am. Returned to the facts
And left our
Flight.
Starting to dream as
Sun rose on the east
Coast--
Both North and South
Felt that warm morning light.
The death of night talk
And fantastic hypotheticals.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
so i gotta say i'm so sad every time i read it in the end that the night talk and fantastic hypotheticals are mercilessly slaughtered in the morning light.
Ok i'm teasing a little but I'm very happy and proud for you to be getting your poem published. Super cool . keep it up , We'll be dropping your name at parties.
hope ya had a sweet weekend