This award is is just simply cool and I am honored to receive it. Thank you Patrick Tillett for this honorific!
I can only hope now that my blog continues to live up to this.
fingers crossed and oh yeah,
no flash photography please.
May 27, 2010
I am beautiful
je suis beau!
I am a revolutionary
je suis beau!
I hear the morning song
of morning song birds.
je suis beau!
drinking coffee black
but not in coffee shops
where the coffeehouse
revolutionaries sit and talk
and talk and drink coffee
starting no revolutions.
je suis beau!
on the front steps on the
art institute
je suis beau!
driving to gas stations
je suis beau!
in the fruit supermarkets
je suis beau!
… unfinished – Hoc Scripsi
May 26, 2010
cowboys and a bitches brew
Happy postmortem birthday to Miles Davis and John Wayne.
I have an appointment for a casual breakfast an hour away so there are only fifteen more minutes to complete this post before I must be going.
He wanted to meet at ten, a far more sensible time.
The reception dinner at my wedding played Sketches of Spain, to this day my favorite jazz album although once involved in marriage you begin to understand Bitches Brew quite well.
one thing has nothing to do with the other.
Hemingway wrote a book with short sentences, I long to write one with long sentences and short paragraphs about a fish fighting for it’s life in the sea only to be caught by some old bastard who shoots himself eventually.
it will not be autobiographical.
My thesaurus doesn’t have an entry for masturbation which was never really needed but interesting to look up (found the info on the net).
I’m considering not getting an omelet for breakfast, but french toast instead.
last year I would have just gotten both but I’m older now.
maybe I’ll just get both despite my advancing years.
POEM
uncom
mon
inciden
t.
noting
move
ment a
nd colour
my
eyes
watchi
ng
when
there’
s nothin
g to
see,
but s
hade i
nto
shade
creati
ng f
orm.
so I
driv
e on
knowin
g ther
e’s
nothi
ng t
o see.
– Hoc Scripsi
May 25, 2010
ad infinitum
The only great part about waking at five am is the quiet abound in the house. Even the cats still stalk the bits of paper and toy mice in silence. The coffee grinder makes noise but this early it is brought to the garage for it’s duty.
I’m awake now because I was worn out early yesterday and managed sleep by eleven pm. The new dosages make my sleep sound and solid, they offer clarity for a time now and I can breathe slowly without malice.
I’m awake now because I’ve enough of dreaming, I’ve enough of the parallel universe where it is the only place stranger than here.
I’m awake now as if I wasn’t this would not have been written,
I’m awake now to appreciate the body of the coffee, the smooth nature of the crushed bean.
I’m awake now because time is immaterial and time is only linear if man is.
I’m awake now.
I’ve had clarity these past few days and it is good, though I will doubt my own veracity tomorrow when the diseased mind takes control.
I still write love letters on her birthday and other hallmark recognized holidays, this is a failure as I should write them more now then ever as I am harder to love on a daily basis.
I am haunted by old friends whom I do not call anymore, I see them standing in windows looking on and through the corner of my eye, in the room with knives out.
the madness of poets is measured with a mythological ruler bought from a store called romantic bullshit.
today I will put holes through the words that failed to align properly and a memory that persists but asks for death and the mercy of a bullet (the papers are taped to targets and not my brain).
I’m awake now and can keep writing and writing this until I fall asleep again tonight.
so I will stop.
ad infinitum
my hair is dusty and I need to
take a shower.
I’ve been busy but I guess I
don’t move too much.
the sky has stopped falling and the
tractor has been repaired.
I’ve noticed that sex dreams only
get better with age and
experience.
same day same thought procession all in time
ad infinitum.
– Hoc Scripsi
May 24, 2010
I load my thirty-aught six to board the downtown train.
I load my thirty-aught six to board the downtown train
passing aisles full of people chattering and marks of concern
while not noticing their silence
I load my thirty aught six to board the downtown train
– Hoc Scripsi
this is the intro to a much longer poem I’ve written. For some reason it is only my mind this morning as I sit here in excruciating pain. My leg for some reason is acting up and once again I am thinking about excising it from existence. somewhat common thought and most common on days where I didn’t sleep well the night before – for various reasons not related to my behavior I ended up in my writing room on the Ikea couch most of the evening. this may well be the source but I am betting on the humidity that is present throughout the air.
yesterday a plethora of birds were singing at this hour and soon stopped for most of the day. I imagine it was the 86-90 degree heat in May. Once the sun started going down they resumed their melodies and plaintive songs searching for love. I can only hope today that their serenade lasts throughout the day as I love to listen, like eaves dropping on two young lovers secure on the porch swing of imagination.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 