Monday, April 03, 2006

twitch ing / / i read to night / but no body listen ed

funny how /
every moment of
every day / is
a poem

some thing that can't be
won't be / translated to
this / this piece of paper

as if a box could be paper


as if / laying in the tub / staring @
the sky / thru open windows / could
some how / be / cathartic

how does one translate the blue
of dusk / that funny colour of the air

when does the dry ground of early spring
be come / a poem / / /

it can't /

all ways / the perfect words show up
when there is no where to re cord them

yes / come to me / only to be for got ten

yes / come to me / when the hour has
changed for ward / & the day lightens & lifts


this is when / my heart skips /
this is when / i plan my fate

when i hash out the pains / the re members
when i can't think / for the think ing











& it is late again
this day of 1 less hour / this day
of / my legs are aching a gain
can you feel the dull ness





& what is it a bout / putting words
in to perspective / a bout words making sense
or no sense @ all / words that are empty








there is no mean ing / simply / only /
hope /


a clarity that can't be found / a worry
that is /
constant


so i smoke to kill













& the clock tics / later















to day / i rake / i trim / & sweep
out doors is such a big place to clean

3 comments:

Unknown said...

Hello,

I liked reading your poem for its immediacy. It was flowing and I enjoyed it.

-Torsa Ghosal

You could read my poems at- www.torsaghosal-poetry.blogspot.com

Sir James Eric Watkins said...

Okay. I haven't even read this, just the first stanza, but I want to get this said. Right Fucking On! Okay. Be back.

Sir James Eric Watkins said...

Alright. Your first spurt here is the meat, cooked to perfection. I have sunken my teeth into it so deep and still my teeth do not touch.

Oh yeah, this part:

it can't /

all ways / the perfect words show up
when there is no where to re cord them

yes / come to me / only to be for got ten

Now, what was it?

yeah. (that stoner thing)

I think, those words, the ones that elude us, I think they maybe are just ours, to escape the "paper" and become apart of us, to come out when we least expect it.

Maybe?

I hope this day and every day is good to you.

~ James