splintered

"And on the drive back to the house on Elsinore Lane, above the dashboard and out the windshield, visible in the wide horizon of darkness, I was seeing newly planted citrus trees that were appearing along the interstate, and the citrus trees kept flashing by, along with the occasional wild palm, their fronds barely visible in the blue mist, and the scent of the Pacific Ocean had somehow entered the Range Rover along with Elton John singing 'Someone Saved My Life Tonight' even though the radio wasn't on, and then there was an exit ramp and the sign above it read SHERMAN OAKS in shimmering letters, and I thought about the city I had abandoned on the West Coast and realized there was no need to point this out to my wife, who was driving, because the windshield suddenly was splintered by rain, obscuring the palm trees now lining the highway everywhere and, above them, the geometry of a constellation from a distant time zone, and I also realized that there was no need to point this out to Jayne because, in the end, I was only the passenger."


- Bret Easton Ellis, Lunar Park

poem of today

nice words # 20

eclipse

nice words # 19

sylph

nice cd cover # 26/27

I Am Robot and Proud - Uphill City / Uphill City Remixes & Collaborations

sentences flowing like wine

"Through all he said, even through his appalling sentimentality, I was reminded of something--an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words, that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man's, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound, and what I had almost remembered was uncommunicable forever."


- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

the water reflects the water

 

Shelter

From sound to echo
—we sleep. Among
silent mountains, locked
between sides. We crave

only to remain. On
random days we could reflect
angry sunlight away, and
be still. Like words in thoughts,

We could find that we lie,
heaving bodies into mute
ground. For here your head
lies on my chest. Your gaze

will harvest many swallows.
When they fly low, as if
to touch my belly, and they
predict summer in a way I

could never promise.

nice cd cover # 25

The Verve - Forth

The albatross sailing on wind

 

The albatross sailing on wind

does it think to feel

the weight below, the endless space

it hides under the span of

its wings?

Or does it embrace

the empty only because

it looks ahead, sailing

on wind, open-armed,

untiring?

Gliding canopy of feather

ruffling starless ocean eyes,

hanging on, turning

Into the silence deafened

by wind, by wind, by wind.

at home in the field

Stranded on a horizon
He is the field. Without
ever asking, no longer
hoping to achieve.

What was once careful
is now only expanse;
what moved, still.
Stranded, as a horizon.

He will become nothing
that the field is not.
As if it was never meant
to end:

All demarcations
are the sum of his doubts.