Happy soon-to-be Thanksgiving.


Waking Up TodayCool tiles marchWaking Up Today
from my feet into white gray walls, full of your shoulderprints,
and I am digging clumsy fingers into these sheets,
trying to re-spin skin your hands unraveled.
Today tastes of too much salt and rancid city streets.


Late April DayA late April day and its sunny outside, a red little girls at the top of the slide and an orange old man at the bottom wants to take her for a rideLate April Day
That sweet honey sunlight smell sticks to sidewalk cracks this morning, and awning tops cup warm clouds of frying animal fat as I walk home, and I dont think of you much anymore, but today
today that old way you drew up eyelids like bleached bamboo window shades mantle-cradles me on this sidewalk somewhere in New York City.
We were only thirteen at that beginning,


Sunday AfterI like that sunday-after-city smell, the sting of a seventeenth cigarette that swims back with every sharpSunday After
breath, and women still in evening skirts that stumble out under the grey-glow dawn building heads, fishnets like park fences hugging bent to the soft backs of their knees.


Mother's sarisUpon unearthing the dreams locked in Mother's saris:Mother's saris
not so impulsive wearing a plain petticoat, mother has me ready when
our bare hands purge lengths of cloth, lengths of cloth
swirling around our hands from the bowels of the iron clasp trunk.
dress up time:
mother hooks she tugs she wraps she wraps I twirl, centrifuging
between her hands.
I am the twirling centrifuge a pallet of vanadium oxides winding
around my waist in
mustard. mendhi. vanda. topaz. lotus. flushing roses against cobalt blue hips;
op


Hero BootsI read somewhere that if you're going to die you should die with your boots on and if you do, then your death would MEAN something. Which doesnt nessecarily mean that if you pull on a pair of rubbers and get run over by a truck,Hero Boots
you'll get a million dollar funeral service and a plaque somewhere it just means that if you're brave and you think with your heart instead of breaking someone elses skull just to save yours then you're someone worth writing a poem about.
A month ago, my friend Driver got his head kicked in Nobody noticed, because it's one less street rat to dea
this is where all capoeiristas of DA can come and talk about capoeira.
pls pay us a visit at the chatroom.
by the way my capoeira name is mulheki.
--
(----> mardock rules <----)
Cheers,
JCA
-
"thanks"
--
~
i write. this is what i want.
and sometimes i write lyrics for boy bands.
--
She had known happiness, intense happiness, exquisite happiness, and it silvered the rough waves a little more brightly as the blue went out of the ocean...
- Virginia Woolf, "To the Lighthouse"
--
She had known happiness, intense happiness, exquisite happiness, and it silvered the rough waves a little more brightly as the blue went out of the ocean...
- Virginia Woolf, "To the Lighthouse"
[link]
Notice there are other bookmarks too!
Interesting gallery you have!
--
To dream the impossible dream...
To reach the unreachable star!
One day more!
Another day, another destiny.
[link] - totally untested and highly dangerous!!
D.
--
Das Missverständnis ist so permanent.
- Klaus Kinski
thanks for the
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