|Ode to Interstate Five and Three Homes
I'm coming home, coming home tomorrow, looking for a Halloween costume, sleepless in anecdotes, clueless in the eye, pressing fact upon insanity, slowing the scattered, lost and stumbled under the shadow of some words and buildings, coming home tomorrow, leaving wet shit, probably to tread the shit down Interstate-5 (or Pacific Coast Highway if I get bored or go crazy or obsessive or scared) 75 miles an hour by the Tigard spitwads, over the Tawilliger Curves, through the Salem porn shops, through the rain, by the cars out of racing and in the ditches, in through one hundred car windows of faceless laps and taskless hands, on bothering pavement, on gripless roads, on the surrealism weaved into this homeless superhighway, on unlit roads under unlit sun, by lonely Woodburn, away from targeted lips, away from a man in black and a heart in blue, away from a sick lost love, away from an empty house for sale, away from a room of outside voices, away from a pathless kid, away from selfishness and selflessness, away from the insane and hereditary, ripped away and to?, to surfaceless wash, to a back ache and thrown laptops, to another candidate, to another abyss!, away from bullshit! to another bullshit! to measure the molarity of bullshit! to find the derivative to bullshit! to find the flow rate of a heaping pile of bullshit! to a ground full of bullshit! to lost thoughts and broken dreams and lack of a good word to replace bullshit! replacing bullshit with home! to glowing distractions, over the loop into Albany, onto the highway for another 10 miles of this shit and non-sense, to Tchaikovsky's sudden flowing change in mood, oh Romeo? to a rip in bad luck's pants? to a carpet of rocky parking lots? to a flatland with a green thumb sprouting out from the torso? to clueless kids? to questioning and questioned professors? with over-answered students? to that thing in my head? to home? can it be?! am I here?!
Or am I going 500 miles, two biomes, curves and straights, and a sick love of mindless meditations? of lost loves and lost homes? Anecdotes cast on the peaceful hills and sprawl and bay, with a crazy old man on the top, in a house, when he should be homeless, with booze and tears and Spanish mumblings: are you my home? Not memory but blood; sister pushed away from the tear drops of an old needle in aimless craze: are you my home? That trip to the subway, coming up and your gasp crisp, coming up and the sky endless, coming up and our hearts sunk, coming up with eyes wide of the skyscraping poke, coming up only to come down: are you my home?
I cannot see where my feet rest, where my back lacks ache, where I am warm and safe, where focus and work and joy and everything comes to sequence, where I am light and laminate what's right, where the walls do not frighten me, where schizophrenia doesn't keep knock knock knocking, where time is endless, where dreams are in my arms, where I am cool and settled – but to my demise, to my disintegration, to my disarmament and distraught, distinct as a lost soul locked, and that fucking knocking! I am not settled and will float as a dysfunctional radical up & down Interstate Five to wither to the bare rim.
|Spring is here again... reproductive glans
I love spring, i love the breeze, the state of illumination (not the winter sun: the sun of light and glare but absent heat just steller arctic shivvvvvvver sorrows; but the rising of the summer sun: the light on my face and the warmth between the cells of my skin and the love in the cells of my soul)!!!
Hi everyone! Umm so yeah for my blogs for now on im just going to write here and @ my blogspot blog. Links from myspace and yeah yeah. Well here's my other crap:Myspace ProfileBlogspot profile
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