gravity

the curve
of you
defies some
ground from
which my fingers
reach, then
fall, leaving
shadow prints
on brown skin
without palm

i'm smart

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

when the bar closes and i find myself still drinking

"you're such a lush" -C.R.

i ask for another one--
i've been here before
on the edge of a hangover
peering over the cliff
at every drink i consumed
that night, enough to swim in,
never enough.

i get in good with the bartender
by only asking for top shelf
and tipping double the bill

i won't remember
it in the morning
but my bank account will

sometimes i write love notes
on wet napkins
to the girl i'm going
to break up with
in my dreams because
she forgot my name
or i forgot my name
when she called
because the music
in my head was just
too loud

here they play jazz
and given that i like
to improvise, sometimes
i light a cigarette
at both ends and finger
the ash until i burn
but this is only when
the bar's been closed
an hour and even
the bartender is gone

the lights are off
and it's so quiet
i can hear the tic-toc
of my watch as i forget
my eyes aren't closed
and the people i hear
around me are only echoes
from hours before-- their
departure still ringing
in my drunken ears.

no. 100- shape the desire...

into something more. a thought becoming act, won. as in, now, i was gliding down the mending wall of sweet memory. weary of waiting and pondering the inconsistency of the thing, desire/ to be more began to manifest itself as more than idea. so, sitting down finally in the seat i've made for myself poets scattered around the floor, pieces of my heart and mind between the pages, the blank page lay under light from a lamp outside the window tonight it will not happen again this waning motivation to be greater than a beginning/void of middle of end/ of some thing new understood as (I). no--tonight will be different and it is that blank page has eyes after moments of squeezing a teardrop from my left eye/emotional ink. blood from my index finger/truth a duty to never stop/going so aimlessly into that terrible night without an insistence of being/

no. 99- it's cold outside

finally my mind has begun to calm down and allow me to speak, selfish bastard. so my job is a dead end. yes, brian luvs da kids but i'm pretty much sick of being broke all the time. i need another job, but considering it took me 4 months to find the one i have, it just looks like a very long winter is ahead of me.

i missed homecoming last week, for financial reasons, of course. i wonder about many people i've been unable to keep in contact with. i miss the AUC atmosphere if only for the fact that while in college being confused and unsure of the future was ok. now, it just seems pathetic.

i went to the library today and stocked up on poetry books. my writing continues to be sporadic and with about a month left to send off apps...well, the shit is very close to hitting the fan. transcripts are being processed thanks to Linda, i've confirmed two recs. that leaves the personal statement and my collection of poems...each of these sparking their own unique yet equally menacing headache.

schools:
UMass Amherst
Brown
UVA
American
Columbia Coll.
NYU
Emerson
UC-Irvine
Stanford (Stegner fellowship)

i am greater than i am

must means nothing until
it becomes done

i hear the clock tic-tocing away.

no. 98- jazz for a rainy day

the sirens sound the same today
windows collecting rain from clouds
covering the sun leaving a half-light
of breath in air, the cold broken
leaves of autumn fall orangeyellowred
at my feet mix with oil slick water
reflection of i, one eye hiding behind
a raised crack in another city block's
pavement. the day today had a mood
not far from the one i embody.
who hears the wail of steel against
asphalt against diesel exhaust against
the wind in my lungs as i take out my lighter
and attempt to ignite my life?

no. 97- bookstore conversation

i need time to listen to the voices inside my head.

i feel like we only hang out on your time

i need time to listen to the voices inside my head,
and i have to be alone to do that.

i don't mind having you around all the time

i need time to listen to the voices inside my head,
and i have to be alone to do that, and lately,
i've needed more time to listen.

hanging out one day a week is not enough for me

i need time to listen to the voices inside my head,
and i have to be alone to do that, and lately,
i've needed more time to listen. sometimes the time
i need is drowned out by something inside myself--
call it the noise of my un-motivation.

are you ready for this, for us

am i ready to respond to something that speaks
from inside myself? i need answers. will
us give them to me?

i just need time. time. the voices. listen.

i need your rhythm

to rock me to dream.
i am a solid rock
falling apart from the middle.
on this road to salvation
i tip hitchhikers for
nuggets of knowledge, that
i may pass on to the next.
how far away is the end?
how many paces must we walk
to feel as if we've gone
anywhere but here? i say
2 steps beyond love to remember
loss, 3 steps behind loss
to remember we can start again.
i'm gonna sell my heart to
the highest bidder, pray it's
you at the auction block
saving me from myself.
i've come up short so many times,
maybe this time, maybe,
i'll be in for the long haul
all the way to happiness
with you black pearl,
with you.

i'll never look into your eyes again...

-the doors

so limited i am in
my own insanity.
i am a desperate sheperd
in between the jazz of midnight
and your eyes that have
their magic, some beginning
i can't quite imagine,
given to me without asking.
we define romance with
broken thumbs that touch
each other's hearts the way
a guitar's riff splits our ribs
in flesh, in blood, in bone.
i once heard jimi on the way home
and suddenly forgot myself,
remembered you in all your
found tragedy...the dead in all
there purported media.
the children are crying for
our encore baby...we have to
move from skin to kin,
mother nature's accessory is
all she wanted, to know we cared
beyond our daily zombie run.
simple sympathy is,
to turn away from
to call it a damn shame,
the way of the world,
out of our hands,
we had nothing to do with
those tears.
as gently as the world spins
guides our existence
to the very tip of some
equatorial line untouched,
i can only think
we are worth more than
a memory. we are the dividing line
between meaning and meaninglessness.
if us does not make it,
love will die.
and all we'll have is
you and i,
separate, a song without
chorus, a night void
of stars, a morning
losing constantly
the hope of tommorrow.
i ponder time in
the infinite backlight
of your eyes and wonder
what forever is made of.

now we both know i'm a nigger (draft one)

I

but we keep having
the same misunderstandings
(have you noticed?)

i mind my own,but you, you
just can't get enough
of putting your hands on me.

i think you might love me,
but the tough way you know,
cuz when you leave sometimes
my eyes swollen shut

and i can't move my neck
or my leg is broken
or my child can't breathe
or there's money missing

from my wallet.the same money
you gave me yourself,remember?


yes,sometimes we do voodoo
to keep our feet off the ground
after you hang us
and in the cajun night,

we do spill a little
hot sauce on the sidewalk
while you're beating
the devil out of our heads
(we know it's for our own good)

but we always clean it up
and praise the lord we never ask
for no trouble,it just creeps up
on us like a godawful storm

that's been coming since
the beginning of time,
and we always knew about it
but prayed time would change
its nasty old ways...

facing it.

alcohol makes me feel good about feeling bad.

i can't remember the last day i didnt have a drink
without really thinking about it.

note: this is not a good thing--this is a bad thing.

very very bad

shame on me.

coldplay on a rainy day.

i only have the album "parachutes" on my computer, so i'm burning it this morning. this is definitely not a good day to be out and about on the town, which is good because i'm broke anyway. another reason not to go and spend money i don't have.

ahh, the weekend is a wonderful thing.

4 and 1. thoughts.

I.
my mind works against the jazz
of the town-- loud talk,
flickering candles, perfumed scents
of beautiful women

i'll never touch.

II.
i sip a smoothie through
a black straw, sweetness seeping
between my black lips,
wet with flavor in the midst

of another black night.

III.
i hope for rain,
but it never comes.
autumn has been a stingy
red leaf, not wanting to fall

on uneven ground.

IV.
and the band plays on--
blows its half-notes
into my afterthoughts,
makes it easy to remember

having a broken heart.


V.
my life has two names--
birth. death.
i find it impossible
to define the space between

as time becomes my alias.


VI.
what has become of my mind's noise
as ink paints self-portraits
within a blank void?
will i sprout from this,

or against it?

so i have two tickets to see beck tomorrow...

and no one seems to want to go. i admit to being a huge fan and the few friends i have either don't want to go or can't. i was thinking that maybe i could take my little brother but it's a school night and besides, he isn't a "fan" either. i just started to put him on to Beck's latest joint, Guero which he finds to be a good listening at the least. It looks like I may have to do a craigslist post or something. will the beck fans please stand up?

oh, i picked up fiona apple's extraordinary machine
as well as little brother's the minstrel show. both
have turned out to be good investments.

i left a 40 oz in the car...

i realize that drinking and driving don't mix and no i don't need a commercial to tell me that--i needed my father to. he sat me down tonightand told me about the history of alcoholism in our family. he told me that i needed to check my habits. i've realized that it isn't my father's words so much that have such a profound impact on me; he is not the first to talk to me about my smoking and drinking habits. it is the fact that my father is the person speaking. i have been in a mental rut for a long time now, one that has hindered my progress toward any of the goals i've set for my life, but honestly sometimes i just don't care about any of that-- the search for a job, the search for a school, peace of mind, family issues, relationship issues, and life in general. alcohol has been an accessory to my carelessness, a way to forget responsibility, to drown in the feelings of hopelessness that find me even in my soberness. it is true that there is plenty of light in my life, plenty of reason to succeed and to want to. but the darkness, the silence i find myself searching for at night, the solitude, where i speak to myself--this darkness haunts me, makes the light easy to push away, but it is impossible to forget. to forget the dreams i stand on are not only mine, but my father, my mother, my brothers, my extended family. i am finding it difficult to find a balance or in the words of yusef komunyakaa, apologize for the eyes in my head. i think that most of the time they see much more than those on my face...and i struggle with those visions as they struggle with me.

graduate studies day at american...

and i missed it. bummer...so, now what? there are two sports events i'm interested in watching today: Yankees v. Red Sox, and Jones v. Tarver III. The former is on Fox in about 10 minutes and the latter is a PPV fight. I must search the phonebook and internet for connections to this joint. For Jones, it's do or die and there is no way I'm going to miss a fight where he is backed into a corner. Jones is probably the most exciting fighter i've ever watched and when he was dominant...no one could fuck with him. I hope he keeps the legacy alive tonight...with a K.O.