the melancholy of this day round me is brilliant and breathing. the cold,
damp breath that all beautifully somber things know. my own seems depthless,
gray, inorganic. grateful to at least feel its breathing breathlessly.
i am exhausted in my abstractions.
i just wanted to make something beautiful. for you.
i miss sometimes you. i miss some people. sometimes.
the appartion of these faces in the crowd;
petals on a wet, black bough.
ezra shouted this shrilly while doing a two step, when it should
have been so beautifully mumbled.
li-po stepped too lightly for ezra and he only thought he heard
what he wanted to. we can't all be so graceful. i trip over my
own inability to believe.
we were cold hearted in our booth of talk between another booth of three old
men with cigars. the conversation about confusion, and something about the
sausage that was overcooked. there were four layers of smoke that bricked
above us. ethan stared at their generic laughs and that slobber at the end
of their cigars. we were deathly afraid to becoming a generation of
a question, why? "why the fuck?" over the smoke and coffee stains on our
placemats. (something about religious prayer, all but our islamic friends
were there) i appreciated religion as much as the egg nog, no season could
love it more than death, and fear. our conversation slipped easily to that
woman who just walked in wearing a black scarf and blue dreams. the romantic
of the old men suggested "you could fuck her all night, but you'd never be
lovers." i had no qualms about it...
i remember the old men.
i borrowed his words. it's an old photo and fuzzy, and i'm quite peripheral;
but i wanted you to have it.
night is slipping down over us,
and melancholy darkens into some
other kind of sadness.
i wish i could always tell you a story.
i worry that last line does not belong to you. joint ownership anyway. that
makes me sad. cluttered table tops. i'm sorry i kissed you those times.
i lover you very much sometimes, and billy kept on singing,
what you said made a mess of me, what you said i don't want it.
i'm sorry that you said,
next to him she sleeps / here, in this room, she lets him in.
i thought, no matter how far, always my raindrop girl. i thought i could
see the disdain in your face-reply. we both smile inside more than we admit.
raindrops slither down the window
backlit orbs, each alone
i'm lost in this house. my house. the day has died so long ago now. black
petals falling from a lipstick sky. window frames and wasted days. i imagine
the land is greener where you are. raindrops for my raindrop girl.
just one time i ask, are you happy?
do something pretty while you can
don't fall asleep
it doesn't feel pretty in the debauch-stained morning. i just wanted something
pretty of my own. i'll only sleep until tomorrow.
the snowflakes settle on the laughing-
snowflakes in her hair
i offer her my hat
that picture of you wearing my hat is as pretty as the cure song. more disdain,
i imagine. i guess...i say this only so that you know that i'm still holding
on to things. you don't always have to be alone in all of that aloneness.
you revel in it too, like the others. that's okay, i think.
this is just to say that this is our time. this is just to say that we go through
only that which we must. this is just to say that you are strong enough.
i always imagined you dripping in it
sadness that brilliant
and the endless self-reflectioin -- you smiling, laughing, crying to me.
and one more time
i don't know how to say goodbye.
- the apparition...bough
the poem "faces in the metro" by ezra pound.
pound adopted the haiku and hokku style after reading felellosa's translations
of chinese poets, especially li-po (8th century a.d.)
- stephan said...no qualms about it...
stephan is the fictive name of daniel salo; ethan is my own fictivename.
this is an excerpt from an unfinished work by salo.
- billy kept...want it
billy corgan of the smashing pumpkins, from the song "obscured" off of the
album -pisces iscariot-
- next to him...lets him in
excerpt form a poem by the raindrop girl
- stuart crooned...don't fall asleep
stuart murdoch from the band belle and sebastian. the lines are from the
song "we rule the school" on the album -tigermilk-
- cure song
reference to the song "pictures of you" by the cure, from the album