Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Yearbook (Concluded)

And have coffee with Will, and find out about New Years. My moral idea is “conversation”? High tide, we flooded our boots and got soaked up the thighs right away. “This food is like the most appetizing drawing I’ve ever tasted!”

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Yearbook (12.4)

It’s always the sun and someone hammering, and all we do, jobwise, is haunt, as if in solution in the air. Emmett dreamed he got in a fistfight with me. A maple bud has begun to open, sticky and yellow, by the hotdog mural. Receiving extraterrestrial signals, getting invited to the right parties . . . A drawstring labeled PULL in ballpoint on copper withdraws the wool curtain. This morning I dreamed it was a day so clear that if I stood on the base of a streetlamp I could see all the way across western Washington to the Cascades—a bountiful panorama of red and brown mountains and shining patches of snow and sharp blue sky—and I was nervously getting ready to take a bus across those mountains to see Michaela—which of course turned out to be true, though I proceeded to sleep till ten on a grey, rainy morning. There seemed to be a lot of strange space between our answers, and I suspected myself of amnesia before I suspected her of sleeptalking.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Yearbook (12.3)

Sore eyeballs and stiff muscles of the couch sleeper. “Soviet Mario” mushrooms. “A green mouse sneaked through the moss.” An oolite in graphite in studious fig light, clinked against and crunched across by a ringing pick into alder scrub light. My ostensible place, a problem arises, a giant invasive iris, is with the cold pizza and sweetish tap water, the things you say and do, the old stencils crusted with flecked orange spraypaint, the ados of ordinary day through fog, the lowered plummet of final attention, sore eyeballs and stiff muscles of the couch-sleeper. The sky is bad with architecture, and I have been reading everything—“Taste the delicious Bubble Teas of Bubble Island,” “A Race to Save a Brain”—but it isn’t working. We hiked out of Moscow through the woods (acacias, blue-and-red newts) to an old man’s apartment where we ate dinner (cookies, then soup, then reheated tea) and I had to speak some Russian, which went okay.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Maryrose Larkin and Endi Hartigan read, 1/11/09

Sunday, January 11th
at 7:30pm, Spare Room
presents a poetry reading by


Concordia Coffeehouse
2909 NE Alberta Street
free, actually

Peaches and Bats publication party in Seattle, 1/4/09

"The Firm and Aerie" presents
a reading to celebrate the publication of
Peaches and Bats 3

Rich Jensen
Stacey Levine
Will Owen
Brandon Shimoda
Simon Wickham-Smith
Deborah Woodard

8 pm
Sunday, January 4th
1412 18th Avenue, Seattle
all ages
$5-15 suggested donation

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Yearbook (12.2)

Parts of these things from this drizzly murky sleepy day could be used somehow. Our agenda: Breakfast—Train to Forest Park—Walk in Forest Park; picnic—Toy store in Sellwood—read—play games—drink wine. What was was what was needed. December 10th. She held my hand and rinsed my bucket, rubbed my feet, told me a story of a person, a dinosaur and a penguin, bought me grapes, bananas, pretzels, checked out videos, read “James and the Giant Peach” to me, and left an amazing gift on my door while I was tossing and being trained by soft visible voices in the elaborate and improvisational discipline of conceiving and fulfilling various geometrical diagrams, and wondering if I dared sit up to drink water. I am wearing her oatmealy hoodie sweater. The water going nowhere.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Yearbook (12.1)

The tulip petal looks convexly pink, convincingly. At the laundromat, a twelve year old boy sits down across from me and begins to read the real estate ads. I grew up doubting my ability to buy a vowel. The rainstorm has cleared up, it seems. Picture four or five cops hunched over a table reading this poem, looking for clues. Or when you said to me, “Galvanized nails.”

Friday, December 5, 2008

Spare Room presents
a poetry reading by

Thursday, December 18; 7:30
Concordia Coffee House
2909 NE Alberta Street
$5 suggested donation