Posted: Saturday, January 9, 2010 | |

can I say something true here? true
discarded neglected pigeon holed side lined vacated pariah pretty city dawdler intruder
sits, waits in a wilt
apathy apathy built

an itinerant
some kinda waywayrd pilgrim


evacuee transient  and ephemeral a recluse

wilts, miscarry

not even a demoted ally in this city can't
find a complement or at least a witness
at least a witness
not trilling

and I'm somewhat ambiguous

my living dance fell flat

but its the accountability question
really, which sticks to my teeth,
jumps out with a no nonesense leap from paper pages
or his art books
or an email here there
or the way it rained today and might tomorrow
even the way the dust organizes itself on my floor
and soap in the bath
souvenirs in the form of second thoughts
ticking ticking to tock

or is it the apologists question? sorry, sorry, trying, trying,
whirring, whirring, stuck in circuits
 its the revisionist, the revisionist, that it comes down to

and fuck can we find a future that works? fuck

telephones that hold their arms out,
you are in the park again
you are in the metro again
you are in the cafe again

you are going out to out nowhere going again, goings again nowheres

we (me) hadn't counted on this wilderness

and these recurring round warm harmless wordchains, the same poems over and over
just lost my rhythm now, lost it somethin'good
lost those stanzas too, woosh! hilarious, oh
gone, but long now sheesh longer still what happened to you girl


paris, what the fuck
you promised me more than this, you did you did you did
under the january moon you lit me up and alleyway lit up
you did, you lit it up
and this thrashing this pushing paris i'm so tired now
bear witness, you
yes, you- at least bear that

so let's get animate
and animate a momentary recovery, at least

can I say something true here? true
say it


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