words of a people aligned in their perfect order
06/05/2010 Federico Garcia Lorca,
happy birthday
They disappeared you
on the 16th of Aug
and assassinated you on
a moonless night one or two days later.
in 1936
you had died for all time.
fifty years later a memorial was erected
on the spot where you were killed.
in recognition of your talent
in apology of your end.
and while you weep for Ignacio, our
flood of tears are for you.
– Hoc Scripsi
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
the sun hides
– for Jackson
The sun hides
behind clouds &
cold wind
but
wishes
to
shine down on
my garden
for the flowers
– Hoc Scripsi
susurrous inharmonious voices playing
on in our heads obfuscating true thought.
no alleviation but pressing pressing pressing and
drinking to augment the medication;
an ill-advised admixture.
sudden, jarring, unholy loud; eyes open
heart thump-ump, thump-ump
really going going going
fear sweat wetting hair and night clothes
body shivers from light breezes.
awake,
light low.
powder burns on fingers,
feet cold and uncovered.
a short green blanket.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 