I know that sometimes I like my coffee black
my eggs runny
I saw it it in a movie once
and got stuck on the evocation
of white sky
and vague nostalgia
maybe inconsolable family knottedness
is born of the same motive
of choosing bitterness
as a means to softening

sometimes I think we are the greatest
I know we are
always a pleasure to be us
no matter what happens
whatever it is that experiences us
is great

to look across the table at the cafe
into the brightness of your face
feeling supported by songs I know well
and your vibrant presence

lost loss

I am looking forward into my life
when this happens I am dreaming
no future exists
but I am quick to compensate

marriage from one to another
I expect
with a loss of self
that one can hope to merit

who am I but the thinness
between lonely
and holy

I alone
when uttered wordlessly
I hear in ache
when felt
the greatest joy cannot describe

Kalachakra

feelings strong like aged perfume
glass bottles in the ornate basket
oriental and attractive
gathers dust in the shed
thought i found it on accident
but of course you planted it
only a relic because we attached it
to a story well fastened
you remember what happened
otherwise just something happening
objects in front of me
objective anomaly
like when i bound my wrists with pearls
memory box is fading gold and wooden
only said that because i thought it might be nice
to have that for a second
if only in thought
then just for a second
just a suggestion
ache in my ankle only sensation
with each step a prostration
measure the earth with the length of our bodies
if we must count,
do
so
to
free
hello stranger i take it you know me
energy meet energy

I pulled off the veil of metaphor
my patience grew thin
want to cover up my love again
so I can take it outside
bring it over in swaddling clothes
to show you what I've done

think I'm hungry and eager
like a newborn's fever
oh what is this?
embedded in my false progeny
I try to make do
without making way
for new life

maybe this isn't the appropriate venue...no it is

i usually gollum out on these...but today i've elected to take a different route.



Damir Doma


Alexander McQueen

.....

faux ! shearling by J.W. Anderson


these and more can be found on http://www.oki-ni.com/
poetry and menswear folks. one in the same.

Having a dream recollection
of a song about death
in awe of this ability, i continue
neighborhood walking
daylight slipping off to the other side
thought i'd put it off for a moment
go and set things right
trees a glint with low angle light
i get bored.
it's cinematic, oh alright
thought i'd put it off for a moment
watch the birds flit about
thoughts in my head
always inside pouring out
i walked back to my house
a faux cry escapes my mouth
all this inside pouring out
i worry that the world is dirty
and we've done it to ourselves

that would be a punchy ending
but i'm almost done with punch

watch me blanket everything in beliefs
i do this to keep warm

pridebinds

I want I want to reach out to you
I want I want to be able to
touch you
when I want to

before I could reach out my hand
I got afraid
that you might turn me away

and so alone I stayed
and so alone I stayed
in solitude prayed
and so alone I stayed


it took everything in me to place my fingers on your back
I offered it all up for that
only to realize that my hand was yours
touching
my old bones in your back