Archive for February, 2011

February 27, 2011

Untitled

by jhon baker

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my breath stinks
my armpits smell
my stomach aches
I am not the man I thought I was
better to be dead
then have to spend a
lifetime dying. but
I’d be awkward as anyone
else in anyother life
so there is only
this and
with all,
it perseveres.
I cannot wash the
stain of maleness
off my clothes
I am not the man I ought to have been
only recently realizing
that I have to obliterate all
that should not be known
or read, less it be known
and read.
and still,
my breath stinks,
my armpits smell.
my stomach aches.
 – Hoc Scripsi
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February 24, 2011

by jhon baker

Mad Swirl

or also

Mad Swirl

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February 23, 2011

by jhon baker

new blog policy – I thieved it from Micael Chadwick.
Since I was never any good at replying to comments left for me, I now respond personally to them via e-mail. You have to have your email addy enabled for comments otherwise I will not respond but do appreciate the commentary.
it’s better this way I think. and for some reason, it is easier for me to respond to everyone rather than write one response that covers everyone.

I hope you all can dig it. I can dig it. Man, I can dig it twice.

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February 22, 2011

West Coast Image

by jhon baker

A good, longtime, friend of mine sent this photo to me – taken from his cellphone. I am in love with it. I haven’t seen my friend in nearly a decade, he smartly left Illinois and has made a life for himself by greater beaches – I’d known him since we were both small, both naive, both hungering for a greater tomorrow and freedom. I think of him often, without heartbreak, as ours is an unspoken commitment of kinship.
This image is from the younger brother I never had. and it’s poem is building within me as we speak…

February 22, 2011

nearly this weeks magpie – but it isn’t.

by jhon baker

the light has sometimes painful burning but I miss the sun on my up turned face.

the
light
has
sometimes
painful
burning
but
I
miss
the
sun
on
my
up
turned
face.

                                           the
                              light
                                                    has
                      sometimes
                                           painful
                                                        burning
                                                                        but
                                             I miss
                                                            the sun                           
                                                                           on my
                                               up turned
                           face.

 – Hoc Scripsi

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