Moving forward, I’ve
learned to flow with breeze and tide.
Rush and drag. Repeat.
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Breakfast is a Snaking Thing OR Now Its Here, Now Its Gone
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Below(,) Mountains of Molehills
In a lie, I’m stuck beneath a rock. I’m watching earth move and counting the cold and warm seasons. In truth, I’m atop the rock watching burning life, often wishing I was beneath.
Sometimes thought moves slow
It drags in thick molasses
Like a candle burningSometimes life thunders
Claps loudly with little warn
Like a broomstick fallsIn a few months, I’ll call San Diego, California home for a few months. Life is constantly more comfortable than it was. And lucrative. I’m building a life with created chaos.
Below me, a soft,
pillowy thing. Above, else.
I am terrified.Love is strange and open and true. Though it confounds us both often. We’re making strides in each other and ourselves and looking forward to big things. I think we’ve chosen wisely.
Clementine, she loves
and I’m learning to accept
She is my best thing.
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Smokey Dark and the City Rumbles Still
My breath, stale and soft
The breeze is still and heavy
Shimmer, winter snow.
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Singular Tragedy is Redefining. Where Do We Go From Here?
broken and we’re all
sharing our bare souls; youth and
life; nation weeping.and we all wish
and we all wail
-
Restarting OR I Haven’t Been Here In Years
Old places and old
faces and new states is my
stasis. Beleaguered.
-
Cooking With Aloneliness
I am reminded:
Athens and my first winter
alone and away.Cloudiness and loneliness
just like garlic and onions
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Prose on Prose on Prose OR Success Isn’t Given OR I’m Lonely For No Reason OR I Need a New Hobby
I watched THIS documentary this morning and realized that everyone is the same, no matter how different. If you’re good at something, and you work really hard for a really long time, it’ll maybe pan out but maybe not. I like the idea of indie gaming, and singular vision and purpose and I think it walks alongside music or visual art or writing as something that is worthy of experiencing with a mind open to newness and uniqueness.
I don’t even think I’m unique among my friends in believing that I’m struggling to find my voice as an artist, especially one that is (even if very minimally) different than everyone else’s. Whether its in writing or playing or composing, I am constantly evaluating what I’m doing, and struggling to find consistent moments that I don’t feel like I’m saying all of the same things in the exact same way as everyone else.
That’s all. Here’s to hoping for…
-
The Dream
I’m not sure what the
“dream” is, but this, whatever
it is, isn’t bad.The hang up is the feeling.
Feeling hung up’s the hang up.
-
Guest Submission – “Some Words”
by Jordan Reed
(not a haiku, still good)
The first thing I thought was “who in the hell gives a fuck about the migration patterns of Canadian Geese?!” And, the sad thing is, there’s, at least, 1 person who does, and she’s unrealistically excited because she now has a little over over an hour (a baker’s hour) to fill our heads with useless information that, I’m sure, we’re all going to actively purge. Her old, stained sweater, it looks like a pair of pre-distressed jeans, or a dumbass hat with a dumbass ripped brim, or something else that’s old, or the bottom corners of a couch of a cat owner, or the tattered jeans of that sexually ambiguous goth kid who sits a few rows down from me who ALWAYS smells like a shitty candle, or something else that should’ve been thrown out years ago, or something else that’s old. This is her time to shine. I’m usually a really nice guy.
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Autumn Atoms
Prowling cats, sunlight,
trees’ leaves fallen and wind creeps.
Fall is life inside.Breathes and curls up.
Smokey silence.
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Thanksgiving Begins, Beckons Traditionally OR Facestuffing Commence
Giving thanks begins
and family smells like pie.
Eat and be merry.
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Hardly Ever Howling, I Breathe the Calm External and Chaos Internal OR Eat It
The stepping outside
act is the great joybringer.
Though, sure, difficult.I am the self-reeling lone.
I am the wonder squashed.
-
Busy Ties Knots in My Tongue
Serving tables is
awkward if you ever spend
time thinking aboutwhat you look like. Anyone
else stutter a lot? A LOT…
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Coffee Can, Man
drawing by Dan DiPiero The coffee man can
’cause he mixes it with love,
makes the world taste good.
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We Are Blank Stares and Walls Full of Past and Present
drawing by Dan DiPiero Expression of mind,
flows through pen over paper.
Thought is laid with ink.I/We are/am at home with
lined paper; blank it beckons.
Precise, honest, raw.A first draft or a
letter or postcard; a note.
We are what we share.And the thoughts of those
who came before us, change us.
And we change the air.
-
“Extraordinary Machine”
Wrath of, and the price
of winning and losing. Dark,
but the light is dimmed.
-
We Can Be Mess and Maker
drawing by Dan DiPiero Creation is a
messy endeavor. Often,
it’s its own reward.
burgoynealexburgoyne 
