Syria/Liberia/Belfast/Alabama

I think we are confused about how much we should be involved, i mean if we fight for Syria shouldn't we fight for Liberia, or Belfast, or a misruling in Alabama, where does the line stop, we all have 500 friends on facebook and care so much about everything that when we try to extend that to outside of us it seems strained and it's only to appease our convenience, why does it make me sick that i can listen to whatever i want, drink 6 different flavors of tea, wear what i want. i think i am confused.

I was i was sherlock

A sun shining slanted on the face of a man who is wearing blue button down, brown vest, khaki pants. Most likely on break from work. Hair shaved down to the scalp even though he is young so he must be a professional worker who has no time for grooming long hair. Eating subway so he tries to be healthy. He observes only a few degrees to his left and right, does not explore the ends of his periphery because he is satisfied with his sphere and does not suffer for much. Chews with his mouth closed so he was raised with manners. Does not check the women coming in through the door so he must be taken if not married. No kids, but if any only 1 - he does not have the stressful look of a big family father.

bucks guiness routine tv

paying a few bucks to be around people,

place too cold perhaps, warm, depending.

black tea and the paperbag ripped

british television oozing into the hard drive.

hot water and the waiter had mayhaps

been disapointed when all i wanted was this

earl gray instead of a usual guiness.

everything dampens. same routine

with minor nuances. all life is just joys

of a people and if you're sick well then

its kind of selfish to ask for company.

contaminate them n all.

sherlock walks away a dragon voice

leading into intro.

in my head : epic poems of lazy men,

wrist cracking too much, books i should read.

on the tv : nicolas cage and his bad movies,

old Ned Stark as a blondie,

conversing with him in a city.

Hanging out with Josiah after Chairing Kathy's Room

Dearest Bethany,

Josiah and I are reading your horoscope for the day. It says you talk too fast & you're rough around the edges when trying to seduce someone (I wonder who it is you're seducing?) & you're going to have to relax. Josiah laughs. Both both put a hand to our chests and say, "oh my!" Now, onto your mom's horoscope for the day. Maybe hers will be similar to mine: beware of your spontaneous nature because it often gets you into trouble, saying things you don't mean. Consuming things you don't want to consume. Shamrock shakes haven't gone away just yet.

Yours,

Libra

P.S. I STILL have to put up LaForce's collaborative poem!

yeah we hang out sometimes

lil wayne has marshmallows in his mouth.

i tell him to chew slower or else he might choke

like when my brother did when he was small.

his locks catch the light and the frayed hairs

look like tiny abstract figures dancing.

we have coffee together well he got a hot

chai. outside a woman in leggings hops a curb,

a man in a button up fixes his glasses.

I am reading a book about Sudan and poetry

about thomas meyer's dying lover.

he is doing a crossword puzzle, eyes wrinkled,

his large nike boots with the fur adjusting

to let a couple in matching clothes pass by.

Moonhash

2-15-10

corn hash makes whiskey?

you need not to listen to me

to know that milk turns to curds

or cream a Wisconsin dream

sickle yielding a most happy grin

sweet is the purest taste a woman's and a child's face

juxtaposition of a marshmallow tummy

& his domino fingers granite thighs petrified wood

sometimes forget to swipe a "hello, I notice you &

love your presence" a long blade of my leg

a radio host telling us to pray

and then we do

moonrise pairings, moonscape yawnings

bumping into each other to gift laughs

and moonshine comes from what hash? it feels

after Bobby Womack's "Across 110th St"

what do you see across the street

you and your family survived by any means

trying to break out

of the road paint, across

23rd st., across Wisconsin, across

the faces of my friends, who come and grimace

at danger, the darker they think

the riskier, and we still speak different languages,

i'm a human variant,

I GOT ONE MORE THING ID LIKE

TO TALK TO YAW ABOUT RIGHT NOW

there's better ways out.

guilt isn't one of them.

nor is blame.

to be strong you have to survive to survive you need to know need

closely like a younger brother you are protecting.

across 110th street i'm watching Womack drink a coffee and i'm drinking a coffee

and time is pressing paper down somewhere else but not in my brain.

after this we will throw a house party.

across these streets and down that beautiful broad park

where i'm told not to go people are tested every day.

somebody shed my skin naked and now everything is a paler or darker

brown and i mean mug yaw who tell me i should think differently.

EVERY CITY YOU FIND THE SAME THING GOING DOWN