March 7, 2010
by jhon baker
Damn.
go here.
why do only the brightest/the genius have this sort of Chaos reign in their heart/head.
May the pain be past, may the chaos be calmed. May your family, friends find peace.
KING OF HALF SLEEP AND OPEN WINDOWS
– For those Hors de Combat
not a man, but
a boy. perhaps
next to open windows where
birds come to sing, where
wind & breeze comes to play;
in loose curtains where moon
lies gently tickling the arms
of youth and kissing the forehead
of prayer.
here, the faces of clocks tell no hour.
here, our eyes & lips have no looks.
here, the silence of childhood exists.
here, those cloths are at your feet
and not dreams.
– I wrote this
a flood of tears for Mark Linkous.
Tell your friends and lovers
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March 6, 2010
by jhon baker
I wanted to look you in the eye
and hold you
to fuck you, to know you
but thankfully
you broke
my heart
Ack:
there is no poetry in you.
there is nothing left of
the wordless moment
so this is NOT spoken word
but merely a poem
and wherever I am
you are on
the other side
of the room
– I wrote this
at least I think I did, pretty sure, it was located in the margins of a book from off my shelf. I bought the book new and the poem written in pencil was written in my hand. I am also known for writing in books and more so, writing poems in books so I think I can be as sure as anything about this being my poem. The only problem I can see is this – when did I write it – who is it about, if anybody as it is likely to be written about a character in the book as it is about a living human. I am willing to bet that I am able to sum it all but I am unwilling.
one hand moves swiftly against the other.
a final act of
expression.
– J.
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March 5, 2010
by jhon baker
right works crazed with manic energy
and we stay up late for them
the good ones go young and unpublished
rest of all stick around trying to be young
and published
thoughtless notes running through the anus
and mouth crammed with exotic mysteriousness
our strange bearded father now dead of cancer
leaving nothing unpublished and us wanting
grand exit – stage left
and we bow
– I wrote this
Tell your friends and lovers
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March 4, 2010
by jhon baker
I
regret
things
like
parking
spaces,
but never lovers.
One
thinks
of
looks
across
tables
or
rooms,
but never someone who broke your nose.
– I wrote this
Tell your friends and lovers
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the platitudes of willful resemblance 