Tuesday, October 31, 2006

thoughts...

"I was in love again, I was in trouble..."
-Charles Bukowski, "Women"


"I didn't know what other writers needed; I didn't care, I couldn't read them anyway. I was locked in my own habits, my own prejudices. It wasn't bad being dumb if the ignorance is all yours."
-Charles Bukowski, "Women"


"But you're not working."
"In a way, I am."
"You mean you live in order to write?"
"No, I just exist. Then later I try to remember and write some of it down"
-Charles Bukowski, "Women"



Sunday, October 29, 2006

thoughts...

"A home-made friend wears longer than one you buy in the market"
-Austin O'Malley


"The life of a good man or woman is full of unpraised and unrequited sacrifices"
-John Stuart Mill


"You are what you are and from there you can proceed"
-Krishnamurti, "On Memory"



Welcome Back my Friends. May the passing moments be good to all of You.

who knows?

every day I awake
and hit the streets.
blocks span out as far as the eye can see
and even further into the horizon
until I head under ground for the train
zipping my pass through
one of the blurried eyed,
not the sprightly,
I dance through the turnstiles with my commuting brethren
tunnel ratting to work
only to comeback again
other destinations sprinkled here and there
always on the same car
always waiting in the same spot
the same people
it makes sense for our transfer after all
day in and day out
Monday to Friday
and sometimes week ends
this is what I do
we all do
sixth car from the end of the train
headin’ west
hoping for a door to be clear
knowing it won’t open until my stop
up the stairs
get in the front car
of the north bound train
maybe get a seat
always reading
watching
the same people
reading
sleeping
eating
breathing
I wonder what they are dreaming of?
new car?
new house?
to pass their test?
love?
a good night’s sleep?
the other day I got of off the train
and while walking up the stairs I saw an old friend
after I caught up
we caught up
he was at the other door
on the same car
hadn’t seen in him years
made me wonder who else was in the car
shit,
who was in the next car?
who is on the next block
just ahead or behind
every step I take
maybe I’ll bump into them some day

moving on

waking
to cough
up
some shit
spit it in the can
and move on
pretending it never happened

moving out
into the world
amongst the wandering masses
living
moving on
obsessing over nothing at all

taking the stairs
two flights up
two back down
trying
to move on
preparing for what comes next

stopping here
there
and everywhere
just in time to hear
tales of love and woe
from all around
moving on

wondering
if this ‘on’
I seem to keep moving to
is all it's cracked up to be
-2003

breakfast

waking with words in mind
words on the tip of my tongue
words created in the soft shadows of the night
the kind of words that dance to the hymns
of a synaptic symphony
words patiently waiting for me to awake
and spill them on the page
where they will never be forgotten
even if they are never read.
-2002