if i seem outta sorts it's cuz
i spent this morning cryin in a church
you're 22 and in a closet dorm room and with two girls and you're all elevated and there are guitars, maracas, and a laptop.
i believe in bliss
it sounds like this:
the apartment
above the post office
on broadway
where frank o'hara lived --
they've torn it down,
but as i have no referent,
perhaps it's better to say,
"it has been torn down,"
i know, i know, passive voice,
but isn't our insistence on action
kinda problematic?
anyway, last time i was there
i was looking up
kinda dumbfounded
through snow,
and now it's so hot
that tar sticks to my boots.
i learnt how to write
i kissed you in the morning light
i went back to brooklyni held where the pole was hot.
looking at:
ANDREA
if one thing matters - a film about wolfgang tillmans
paedophile checks scheme defended
RIBA
transformer camera
listening to:
bear in heaven
cat power - psychic hearts
cubist blues - dream baby revisited
leaving mornington crescent
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