the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern. — Frank O’Hara
all I can do
when it’s back
All I can do
The Last Dollar I’ll Ever Make
I am done
of endless nights
of dropped dresses
and a sense
of emotional expression.
while the sea is in a certain sense
contained within the fish!
Ah, what am I to think
of what the writing of a thousand lifetimes
could not explain
if all the forest trees were pens
and all the oceans ink? — mewithoutYou (saw them last night at Rumba Cafe…great show)
Rev up the engine and drive off in the night
See you somewhere, some place, some time — Murder By Death
The fact is
to the container.
in a contradiction
in the current
to a destination
Bringing the light
and the waste
to err on the sight
that modern man
in an attempt
“At Least Act Like You Like It”
Tonight we’re under covers.
Behind the disguise of star-crossed lovers.
So Cross my heart and feed me lines.
Use the directorial vision in your eyes.
Maybe this acting will start to get better.
Now we stand on a tiny side stage.
The curtain calls are pointing at my extended age.
But I’ve forgotten all my single one lines.
(And the audience is losing all interest
in this story
for the millionth time.)
So Cross my heart and feed me lines
I could use some direction from your side.