So I Wasn't Raised Catholic, But. . .

A friend told me that none
of us speak with our own voices.
We are only vessels for Divine inspiration,
so God speaks through us.
I asked him/God to tell me
where my camera's power cord was.
God did not respond, so I'm seeking
your help, Saint Anthony*.
I'll repeat this old refrain:

Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony,
Please come down.
Something is lost
& can't be found.

Maybe I should send this through Saint Isidore**. You know:

In Saint Isidore's name I pray. Amen.

*Patron Saint of Lost Things and Persons
**Patron Saint of the Internet

God Help Me

All I want to do tonight is live vicariously through Laura Dern's wrenched face as she shifts cells in Lynch's subcellar vision.

Superimposed On The World

is a higher plane, as a philosophical coworker inspired by Sunday's sermon on Eros, love, lust, marriage, and friendship suggested to me. Not only are you bonded with everyone you've ever slept with physically (as in memories or loitering emotions), but you are inextricably linked to these people forever on a more spiritual level.

Just think of all those points of contact, all those tethers, all those flights, all those depths, all those connections, all those mistakes, all those justifications, all those ghosts eerily hovering during an October hayride through our relationship museum, the haunted house.

Who Wants Anything Less Than

an icon?

Chicago Says Welcome Back!

I was immediately accosted by a self-professed wasted dude sans shirt after exiting the train station.

"Where's the party?" he said.
"Dunno," I said.
"You like 'em hung?" he said.
A pause.
"I like 'em artistic," I said.
"What's that?" he said.
"Painters, musicians, writers, anything that runs on internal drive," I said.
"What's internal drive?" he said.
"Creating without someone telling you to," I said.
"What about guy artists?" he said.
"It's all the same," I said.
"Have you ever drawn a nude?" he said.
"I'm not a visual artist," I said.
"What if you were to see me nude?" he said.
"Why would I want to?" I said.
"Because you'd always have it in your memory," he said.
"There's my ride," I said.

In Heat

"I can't remember that cat's name."

"The one who's presenting to you? That's Sidney."

Weekend Ego Stroking In My Hometown And Roundabout

A List Of Things Said To Me In Full Seriousness From Anonymous Drunk Or Stoned Speakers:

1. "Wow! I can say the same thing about you as I said about Sarah McLaughlan. You remember, that I would like to have babies with her just so she could sing them to sleep."

2. "Don't worry about your new teaching job. I learned more from you than anybody."

3. "You're real honest, aren't you?"

4. "You're the most trustworthy person I know."

5. "You always were real smart."

6. "That skirt is hot."

Suburban Chivalry

Alongside the southbound Amtrak, someone had burnt IVANHOE into the park grass.

Making Connections

At lunch, William Carlos Williams says to me, Women are / legalists, they want to rescue / a framework of laws, a skeleton of / practices, a calcined reticulum / of the past which, bees, they will / fill with honey

At 4:35, four black women discussed homosexuality. I won't be ashamed standing in front of my Lord! They'll get what's comin! They got no excuse.

People =

Plants seceding from mud & lodging adrift in wind.

That Moment You Don't Mention To Anyone

Finger pick a nylon string out-of-tune guitar under the El tracks. Hum a little. When the train passes overhead, drown in its ado and forget your rhythm. Then grow into your melody so the next time the train comes

it's just another drum.

I Heart William Carlos Williams

Memory is a kind / of accomplishment / a sort of renewal / even / an initiation, since the spaces it opens are new / places / inhabited by hordes / heretofore unrealized, / of new kinds - / since their movements / are towards new objectives / (even though formerly they were abandoned)

from Paterson

Linguistic Mistakes of Mine

Today, I answered a call for Dr. M.

I said, No, he's not in, but may I take a minute?

Sleeping in a War Zone, or Napping in the UK Village on July 4

Repeat 10x: . . .you sink only a shallow distance into your head. You think you are sitting with someone on the concrete front porch, he turns into someone else, you hear a POP! Suuuuu. . .POP!, you ride a slight wave upwards, you are back in bed. . .

Answering Pressing Questions about Genetics

Q: Do genes alter over time or drug use?
A: No. Genes never alter, they only turn off forever, locking themselves and throwing away their keys, or turn on forever, remaining active until death.

From the Taste of Chicago

A slim girl halted in the middle of the heavily peopled road, brought a chocolate covered frozen strawberry to her mouth, bit into it, closed her eyes, raised her eyebrows. Her pixie face lit up with delight. Mmmm, she hummed.