words of a people aligned in their perfect order
My love,
though we’ve been married nine years now – I’ve not had enough of you,
I may never have enough of you,
I may never be satiated by your lips, your face, your body beautiful.
I want you now, I want you always – I will never stop loving you, not even at nothing.
Allow me to hold your heart forever in my hands and I shall walk slowly, deliberately so as not to disturb our ever seeded affections, our ever strengthening love.
Happy Anniversary my love.
– your melancholic man
depending on who you ask
150,000 – 165,000 deaths on Sept, 11 2001
less than 10,000 by violent hands.
a mother watches her child dying
wont of only gardened food or grains stocked and rotting in US silos
A husband watches his wife, unable to cope or help
or feed or clothe
wont of only a medicine produced in mass but patented
a brother holds a brother…
a sister holds a sister…
they group together for warmth or shade from an unforgiving sun
all 150-165,000 of them are sons and daughters
brother and sisters
in time, space
50,000 under 5 years never knowing their first love
-Hoc Scripsi
What some poem said in 31
I wish it was cancer, simple – to the point and either death or cure would deliver me without question.
I wish I could offer you that radiance, that moment.
what some poem wrote in 31.
the projectionist asleep
aisles full of faces, a thousand faces
and sorrowed malaise
the colors saturated
the film jumpy
like an old film with the tracking off
muffled vocal intonation
and a sharp disjoint from yesterday morning
where I sat with coffee and dunhill internationals
and an aspect of understanding
– Hoc Scripsi
I have always said that men should keep their shirts on while in public, almost no matter how they look but some consciousness about ones body goes a long way. I have countered this with women ought to go round shirtless more often as it isn’t nearly as offensive to the eyes but quite the opposite, the woman has a body beautiful in all shapes and the world would be a far lovelier place should it be unencumbered from the strictures of modern ugly morality.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 