This is what we did, yeah. Sean is on the left, Kelson is holding the damn thing. It was not an everyday thing. You can tell by their faces that, yeah, this is pretty fucking cool.

This is just good advice, really. Pretty girls will sometime draw pictures of you that are great, and you will think the craziest thoughts about them. LoL.

Living together, young people will destroy each other.

There are creases in my bed that I have created with my body. They will form shapes like my body would seem without skin and gravity. The world will not carve me from onyx, it will wear me like granite. My body is not a rock, it is many smaller rocks that were forced together by natural causes. Earthquakes, tornadoes that prey on the illiterate, mudslides that are worse than the name suggests, whirlpools, half-assed rainbows in the spring. All of them are happening in extremely small doses to my nervous system. Is it obvious that I am thinking? That is why we are here: I am thinking too much. My mind is an army, and it loses more of itself by noon than most people lose in an entire day. We don't have a shot at making this work. My eyes are rolling beneath closed lids. Too much sensitivity to light can't be normal or good. The sun is near my body right now, as close as it will ever come. It pushes my shoulders down. It's hard to keep going. But, I will. I'm sorry. This is over.

This is not love and that's okay

The white haired dog
was snatched by the throat
for yelping at bigger dogs. This
dog was too much of a dog
to take any more of that shit.
The puppy corpse belonged
to me, a child. The dog of dogs
set it at my feet, paws moving
like a blade of grass above
barely breathing lips, which is
not enough movement to keep
any kind of hope for resucitation.
I never tried to replace it with
another little white dog, I didn't
do anything about it except
watch it happen, and then walk
inside for a glass of water. Such
is the nature of dogs, or so I figured.
The water was soothing, I was
thankful for such a warm day.

Existence

It's a pretty great thing, especially if
you're a book that I've written

birdhouse has ten poems and is
wonderfully put together thanks
to the help of my new-ish friend
Johanna Ofner. She's great! And
the book isn't half-bad. I've read
it cover to cover at least twice.

You should really consider buying
a copy at a poetry reading that
takes place tomorrow evening,
Wednesday, January 7th.
Place: MoTini's (Muncie)
Time: 9:15

It's only two dollars!! Wow!!

I hope there is something more than personality or we're fucked

I am not sure why I included everyone in the title. Sorry, everyone.

Are we all in this together?

Good.

* * * * * * * *

I remember a particular viewpoint I had
when I was a child. I would talk about my
newly formed opinions on world issues
with my father. Muhammad Ali, a man
who will always be known as a beautiful
destroyer of men, was on my mind. "He
deserved to have his right to fight taken
away from him. He was a draft dodger."

My father would nod in what I thought
to be agreement. I saw it this way because
he was a Marine. But, you know the old
saying: "Once a Marine, Always A Marine"
And when I had these flashes of judgment,
which I interpreted to be moments of
premature wisdom and brilliance, I
must have seemed like a terrible
little prick wrapped up in a Midwest
upbringing he would grow to resent.
And I was, although the resentment has
faded into something less extreme, which
brings on it's own kind of guilt.

I'm fairly self-assured that I've grown
past this. Hating on Cassius Clay or
any other human being with the ability
to know the difference between fighting
and dying is not something I'd like to
be remembered for doing, although
I assume I am the only one who
recollects the father/son opinion swap
in the first place. And I learned at least
one thing that I am aware of): Having
nothing to fight against but your own
mistakes makes it much easier to say
there is nothing wrong with taking away
anyone's right to fight.

Life is boring, friends

I say this without thinking, because
upon waking this morning to an
alarm clock trapped in my roommates
locked bedroom that was below mine,
I issued a warning and then kicked
the door down. My footprint is on
the door; when August comes and I
move out I will be able to say
"My footprint has remained to this day"
And that day will be July 31st.

It took me five kicks to break the
deadbolt lock. I told my neighbor
about it and then complained to her
for hours about how life is either
hard or exceptionally dull. I wish
it had taken me one-thousand kicks
to bust that door in, and I could start
every day of my life from now on
doing it all over again.

Sherlock Holmes and the Peer Evaluation

Written from a peer's perspective, evaluating me with scrutiny:

"All the enjambent is distracting! It's such a cool idea and images. You just throw in too many poetry devices to prove your point"

Indeed. I am using far too many poetic devices in my poetry.

No shit, sherlock.