A photograph turned face-down (person)
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Sun Jul 09 2000 at 3:10:19
Is it our legacy, as women, to each have one of these? Mine is not only face-down but
on the top shelf of my closet
, out of reach, out of danger. He gave it to me awkwardly, visibly feeling dumb about it. Who gives somebody a framed picture of themselves? It was my favorite of his headshots, and I'd admired the frame, so he made it mine.
I can't remember
, now, what he took out of the frame to make it into a present for me, but he did,
that for me, and
put it in my hands
I had to fight my way through clothes and boxes to get to it, but I knew exactly where it was. I'm struck again by
how handsome he was
when he was calm
. Here he is looking down and away, hair in his face,
glasses sliding down
. Like he didn't care the camera was on him, like
he didn't care who was looking
. That was when
I liked him best
, when it wasn't so tremendous that I wanted to look at him. Later, of course, his attention to my attention grew
enormous and complicated
, a trap for us both. He wasn't handsome to me anymore, not even interesting. I wonder if I could have kept us both in that stage, hovering in the time when we were
for each other, before either of us had to turn away.
I like it!
Some kiss with their eyes closed
It's not so much that I like him as a person God, but as a boy he's very handsome
Three chords and no chorus
A moon, reflected in a tin ashtray. A brief pale sun, shrouded and without heat.
Nathan, This Is Unacceptable
His attention to my attention
The boy who spoke with the sky
Once when I got like this I thought I was building a boat
don't believe everything you read on the internet
A house remembered
I like the color of your skin
Unmanned Combat Air Vehicle
Why do you whisper?
A Mind Forever Voyaging
Happiness is the best revenge!
September 8, 2006
John Adams's 1799 State of the Union Address
Robots don't write poetry. Anymore.
Raincomplex's State Transition Graph
When the pencil breaks, the network goes down
Mary of Guise
Saint Crispin's Day speech
The Lovecraftian compulsion to keep writing even as one is being devoured
Send me the pillow, the one that you dream on
masturbation never breaks your heart
This? A winter's night depleted sunset.
the virtue of the disconnect
The Vandal's Myth
lies the cheesemonger told me
parting is such sweet sorrow
within normal limits
I wanted to do it again
December 12, 2018
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