of this attempt to see.

stranded this night in brick lane

all those men in their fancy suits
although i do love to hate them
their smell intoxicates on the evening train home
they are secretly dying
they do not know what it is they are standing for

all those girls with their coal eyes and bangs
the boys with tight pants and black sneakers
they are reading bukowski
and sensing there is something better
they do not know what it is they are standing for

i am coming closer to
knowing what it is i am standing for

sav/krk/jank/megan/thomas

As I shimmied in a skirt through the hole in the glass window pitifully to get a better glimpse of local crew 'burning candy,' your lovely faces passed through my mind as I contemplated one of the final scenes in Ghost (in which the antagonist dies via a broken window crashing down to cut off his head).

You all would have been proud (or shook your head and said under your breath, “Idiot.”) Not as glamorous as slumming in the drains of the east end or risking going down the subways, but I did nearly step on a rat.

Much love to you all.

these altered months

all this incredible shift and change
makes me want to aimlessly shake this skull back and forth
and back and forth until this stained reality
doesn't make sense
and doesn't need to

what is this happiness that is yet discontent

these people which have taught me
these lovers which have shaped me
they move and yet i cannot touch them
they are slipping away and i cannot touch them

trapped in the middle of a one way love
who am i to fight this down


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LMFAVLCUaok

daphne

take your love away
take your love away

so take me as my enemy
and i'll come and go as you please
but i'll stay
stay

take your love away,
take your love away

missed mark. fallen short. day late and buck short. failure..

THIS OWN COMPLACENCY MAKES ME WANT TO VOMIT

AND I HAVE FAILED

o love that will not let me go

you may wish better than me/i cannot wish better than you

It happened one day
One morning when he woke me
It was the boy I had seen on the train, so many years ago
But now his face was ragged, the deep wrinkles sagged those old wise eyes
And when he bent down to whisper in my ear, his face reflected light like this lost city-
“THESE HOLES WHICH HAUNT WILL NEVER LEAVE-AND YOU WILL WEAR THEM
UNTIL YOU LOVE THEM.”
He must’ve seen the fear in my eyes, because with that, he went from my bedroom
And I have not see him since.

And as I lie there in that fright
I could not help the cringe and the shudder of my frame withdrawing
These poorly lit thoughts on overcast morns are so dangerous; and
I wondered:
Why has she drifted so far from safe and the great gig in the sky-
I wondered:
Where have the songs that manage to liberate themselves from my cautious fingers hidden-
And now for this I stumble and mourn:

Will he ever find what he is searching for?


THESE HOLES DO BIND THESE HOLES DO BREAK
I KNOW MY SOUL THIS ART WILL TAKE
AND IN THESE SPACES WE HAVE LAIN
OH GOD THEY HAVE ALL BEEN IN VAIN
I'VE SOLD MYSELF AND OFFERED MORE
I'VE WATCHED IT BURN AND PLAYED THE WHORE
THESE VOIDS THAT TAUNT I CANNOT CALL
MY ART WILL COME AS SHE DOES FALL

bloody bandage and a tarnished will

Because the Screams of Romeo Are No Longer Heard, And Because this Daphne Was So Cruel, I Cannot Scream Loud Enough.


To justify these liasons would be the gravest sin
Commited thrice before/can you believe/I was counted witness
I saw those things, and breathed those things
The rank smells, the awkward filth
What has possessed you to dream I could not understand

so because you are so egotistically selfish,
leave her and take her until she bleeds-maybe then
YOU WILL HAVE YOUR SODDEN SANCTIFICATION-

You’re so broken.
So, for now, just trace her trackmarks
And wait till you go home.
I will be damned before I let you
torment me again.

these chasing furies daunt me still and yet-

too much wind on my face and i'm losing it all or actually
i believe i might be going forward:
except that nothing i create will ever be good enough for you
nothing could ever earn that respect
nothing could be that far removed from the box

what would happen if i realized i didn't need it
what would occur if i left something bigger fill this god-shaped hole
(oh how i love to fill it
with the dirty fleshes of now)

what if i didn't give in to it-
what if i told it to scram because i'd found something, lasts forever,
or rather, it had found me?

these chasing furies daunt me still
and yet i have seen the end and
i will not back down

idontweep.doyou

it's all a bit bit hazy here-
stormclouds threaten this disposition
how long will she keep it up?

put me in a trance to all that occurs
how would i deal otherwise
such love abounds, but from such earthly spheres

how does the beat continue when people leave
people stop people die
how do i look through the same glasses
when there is no response

i am so easily given i am so easily taken and by this i mean the same thing

hours and hours of toil and frustration
all the greats now thrice consulted
have brought me to this damp dark mess
where insecurity boasts and masks itself
i refuse to hide this hope any longer-
Friend or foe could you please tell me,
what is this love that is stronger than death
(oh God i know it is)

this dark hiding from Him and crying out to anything else
this blindness of no rest no peace no end
this uneasy shortness of breath, shall i never rid myself
shall i never leave this
scoffing and laughing and spitting as He is pierced
shall i let Him remain there daily with my woe and inability
to accept what is freely given?

why is it so difficult to leave myself
and go to the cross
and His life
inviting the very least of these
the filthy and ugly and childlike and lame
why cannot i simply turn to Him
i am superior in all praises here
clinging to the dirt grime and idolatry
how many idols have i found,
i am so easily given
i am so easily taken
and by this i mean the same thing

shall i never leave this muse that tempts
and dies to find me damned

why should i gain from what i wrestle to accept?
and yet have i gained everything

.

i am beginning to wonder.

19 years old, coworker party.
would it all have been different,
would she have been different,
if he had not stolen this?

weakest breath, loudest no
and not a shred of evidence.

this lame giant that is love

more than sick of this

duality

this dichotomy offends me
how silly would you be
to not realize it is you
its you that all of this is for
nearly a year now

painstakingly trying to avoid
seeing the other
stomach church i've tried to avoid
go from me/torment me still
i pray and thrive and sing and shake
if i could write away all that we've given up
all that we lost together
sweat and this and nails and God i'd die to forget
but you forget don't you,
how YOU ARE STILL WHOLE


these damnable scars aren't getting any lighter

in response

it is the fight that so many hearts have fought and lost
for ten thousand years
and yet i feel as if i am suffering through it for
the very first time
heart stolen over this for 8 months now, and ever so much longer
but i shall not tell a soul
just run and run and run and run
and run and hear that harmony
God please don't take this harmony

the rainbow which dared bare only black and grey

where eros and agape have met
and intertwined in the same shamed darkness
something that cannot be stated will occur

HOW CAN I SURVIVE
WITH ANY LESS THAN THIS-

9 April 2009/12:38am

but sleep will not be sought
and it is because of this:

you lie there in your bed, rhythmically rocking to the soft tones
awe so intense it suffocates
a world without satisfaction or pacification
how did God create a thing such as this
how do i endure such a light as this

we are creatures of logic, and creatures of hate
but give me love over, love over this

as i listen to this gregorian chant
i know that i cannot handle much more
soon it will take over, these ancient voices deep
it will win and i will lose
either you will win or you will lose

what would happen if the music won
you need needles and mirrors
i have my own intoxication and it is so much deeper-

i am guilty-and
BY GOD I WILL NOT BE LEFT BEHIND/

torment of least importance

i have come to an unsettling conclusion.

i have absolutely no God-given idea what constitutes good art, good music, good anything.

sure, it's about truth, and what i make of it in some regards, but who the hell wants me justifying their creation?

there's no black and white, and it is safe to say that this torments me.

the last thing i want is the people around me, or the media, forming my opinion on what is justifiably good or bad. but then who does? when God seems so far, how do I come to these opinions and correct conclusions? don't tell me that piss in a jar is bad and a Degas is good. who decides this?

MAYBE THIS IS NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL. but as i said, it's safe to say it torments me.

how will my art ever be worthwhile if i can't even tell what's good or bad?
why is all my music so damnably safe?
how do i even understand who i am when
EVERYTHING IS RELATIVE.

perso nella vita-ma è cosi

you've brought them such joy-
and now you're crying

perché l'è correndo sempre-
why is she always running-

seeking a stillness that will not and never yield.

playing this old song it has been done before
salt like after a cold kiss not sure how to proceed
stop at the gas station choose your poison
then retreat quickly-it's no use-head for the word
watch some frames and wait for the next thing

thrash the beaten guitar against the wall becausebecausebecausebecause
where's the point in this anyway?

oh, thank you for the record
you're right. it is one of my favourites.

i wonder how many miles i can run
how many humans i can please
how many wretched and safe-oh heart they are all so miserably safe-songs i can sing

these god forsaken chords are bruising my fingers
and making my eyes bleed
your hands they move and but i shall never touch them

BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD

till i only dwell in thee

Shall i risk it all,
O Lord of deepest waves-
Shall i follow the music I have desired
the very most from the start
or must i remain content and silent
simply being still and knowing
that you are God,
and I have naught to fear.

This, my solitary vision,
till I only dwell in Thee.

damn the black night

i remember when i felt like that-
dirt free glorious-those braids-
but can i actually-



God bless the daylight, the sugary smell of springtime
Remembering when you were mine
In a still suburban town

When every thursday I'd brave those mountain passes
And you'd skip your early classes
And we'd learn how our bodies worked

Damn the black night with all it's foul temptation
I become what I always hated
When I was with you then

We looked like giants in the back of my grey subcompact
Fumbling to make contact
As the others slept inside

And together there
In a shroud of frost, the mountain air
Began to pass from every pane of weathered glass
And I held you closer . . .

he is there-slightly to the right of centre.


-me and ben

the one who fears is not made perfect in love-

when may i cry justly, and when must the child grin and bear it? what is love, and what is pride? why is love the absence of fear. does such love exist, and how can i do this? how can i give of myself without giving myself? will i ever learn such a selfless sacrifice?



"Worlds Apart"

I am the only one to blame for this
Somehow it all ends up the same
Soaring on the wings of selfish pride
I flew too high and like Icarus I collide
With a world I try so hard to leave behind
To rid myself of all but love
to give and die

To turn away and not become
Another nail to pierce the skin of one who loves
more deeply than the oceans,
more abundant than the tears
Of a world embracing every heartache

Can I be the one to sacrifice
Or grip the spear and watch the blood and water flow

To love you - take my world apart
To need you - I am on my knees
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - broken on my knees

All said and done I stand alone
Amongst remains of a life I should not own
It takes all I am to believe
In the mercy that covers me

Did you really have to die for me?
All I am for all you are
Because what I need and what I believe are worlds apart


I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
and wipe away the crimson stains
"dull the nails that still remain"
More and more I need you now,
I owe you more each passing hour
the battle between grace and pride
I gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain
and wash the feet and cleanse my pride
take the selfish, take the weak,
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
the sin-soaked heart and make it yours
take my world all apart
take it now, take it now
and serve the ones that I despise
speak the words I can't deny
watch the world I used to love
fall to dust and thrown away
I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
so wipe away the crimson stains
"dull the nails that still remains"
so steal my heart and take the pain
take the selfish, take the weak
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
take my world apart, take my world apart
I pray, I pray, I pray
take my world apart

-dan haseltine

there were too many W's

"How singular is the thing called pleasure, and how curiously related to pain, which might be though to be the opposite of it...yet he who pursues either is generally compelled to take the other; their bodies are two but they are joined by the same head."

-that Socrates

silly booked ramblings and the awkward cafe
take me back to a time i don't remember men

The Most Precious Lullaby

1 He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

2 I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust."

3 Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare
and from the deadly pestilence.

4 He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

5 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,

6 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.

7 A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.

8 You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.

9 If you make the Most High your dwelling—
even the LORD, who is my refuge-

10 then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.

11 For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;

12 they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

13 You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

14 "Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.

15 He will call upon me, AND I WILL ANSWER HIM;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.

16 With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation."

Psalms 91

the black swan

The sun is fallen and it lies in blood
The moon is weaving bandages of gold
O Black Swan where oh where is my lover gone
Where oh where is my lover gone

Torn and tattered is my bridal gown and my lamp is lost
With silver needles and with silver threads
The stars stitch a shroud for the dying sun
O Black Swan where oh where has my lover gone

Don't you hear your lover moan
Eyes of glass and feet of stone
Shells for teeth and weeds for tongue
Deep, deep down in the river's bed
He's looking for the ring
Eyes wide open, never asleep
He's looking for the ring

The spools unravel and the needles break
The sun is buried and the stars weep
O black wave, O black wave, take me away with you
Take me down to my wand'ring lover
With my child unborn
With my child unborn.

-Il est tombe le soleil sanglant

their eyes are all sewn closed

The god sighs low as he looks round

The ignorant dandies prancing to and fro

Laughing like monsters

The daughter hides beneath the world

Stealing whispers softly and cringing loud

Their eyes are all sewn shut

And even the best of them will never see her, see her

How long can she stare before her eyes begin to bleed

Her eyes are always burning

if you only knew the plans they had for us

sh' ees fallin up
guards her prey like mary
TRACKMARKED amoeba lands craft

take your child away take you child away
keep fallin up e meglio di fallin away

what is the difference
is there a significant change in this wasted passion
this wasted life, this wasted girl.

give me a minor 3rd and someone to play it
but take it all away first and let us
baste in our tragedy

Belief and Technique for Modern Prose

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for your own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside your own house
4. Be in love with your life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. NO TIME FOR POETRY BUT EXACTLY WHAT IT IS
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolouge
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

Kerouac, Belief and Technique for Modern Prose

and we hid our faces from him

HE IS DESPISED AND REJECTED OF MEN
A MAN OF SORROWS AND ACQUAINTED WITH GRIEF
AND WE HID OUR FACES FROM HIM
HE WAS DESPISED
and we esteemed Him not-