(Monday's poem) 20 Echos

New lodgings acquired!
This will allow you to keep three cards in your hand,
and to see Robin and Ellie as often as you like.
You have gained 1x Confident Smile!

Splendid.

(Sunday's poem) Libation

You're supposed to pass it round, aren't you? My mother asked.
So the it - the last bottle of malt whiskey he ever bought, goes around and around us all, and
"Cheers Dave," is drowned out by excited "Dad, Dad, what's that?" and
"Dad, Dad I can 'ave some?" and
you know there would have been more tears when we were burying the box, if not for, "Dad, Dad, can I have a go? I want to do one, I'll be really careful!" And eleven year old hands struggle to maintain the shovel.
Yeah there'd have been a lot more tears all around.
"Thought the tree was gonna be well big?" Well give it a year or two child.

"Lush."

(Saturday's poem) Sabbat-urday

Yes I'd turn my back on them, on you, for him. No question? As that's the way we do things, or did no-one tell you that -
Bishop?
But I didn't 'cos I coudn't, 'cos while my friends were getting to work,
claws rending flesh and the wicked sicking venom and the obfuscating smoke, I was on a darkie - the kind of op where you fly in at night so as journos can't see.
There's no shame in any of this, just shame in hiding it. So much shame in hiding it.

Think of Irish, waiting for you last time, blush of life in her cheeks,
I'm holding together but I'd sooner be holding
you - not my best line, but it worked,
my gun moll.

the shortest distance between two points is

I want to live in an atlas

I could walk
all those straight-edged
western borders
between here and home
like three-inch tightropes,
feet pointed
at gravity in accusations
sized 7

let the wind run fingers through
my pages instead of my hair

shit balls

this room is crushin

my spirit

the sparsely decorated

cave prison with my striped

blanket--its a cell I created

go through photo

after photo

only five hours of daylight come through I

forgot where the library was

these New England trees

shit these spike balls

I stepped on that shit and

it didn't get on my shoe

this place isn't so bad

every night at dinner

the salt shaker stands stupid and proud

as my only company

I ask him what the news is

--he knows nothing, but

this is what I know

I carry a knife

for the same reason

I cannot find sleep--

because I am alone

Campus Cadence

there is a symphony outside
a boy,
freshman no doubt,
revs his engine excessively
roommate talks to her mother
train whistle sounds
car alarm
all in a rhythm

rev
speak
whistle
beep

Charlie Dawes
is trying to sleep.

i have had dreams that
far enough down the light
is filtered lazy amaranth
bruised across my skin

in my ears the voices
are lacunal
things i cannot pinpoint
without opening my mouth

satellite

i journey to the same place over and over

and over again to retrieve some kind of comfort

in the form of $2.09 less on my card but

then there is the fact that it leaves me rather

disoriented and tired instead of caffeinated

gotta go back when he's working 'cause he

charges me less than the other employees

nothing

Back to grey, line of demarcation,
if: you cannot feel
then: you lose humanity
if: feeling is human
then: you cease to be human

How do you erase feeling?
Do what I do.

Smoke medical
Listen to this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwy-b8AzVk8
On repeat
For hours
On hours

dereferences

lacking the dignity of Thing-ness
we are often caught pointing at nothing

bleary-eyed and riddled with segfaults
kneeling before the Machine god:
just this once, no exceptions
forgive this user his error
compile his corrupt mortal code
sola fide