just a friend

and you say he's just a friend...

no big deal
called the cops on a friend
a friend
someone ive known a few years now
kicked him in the crotch
called the cops
no big deal
cept they all hate me
"am i ridiculous?"
"yes" says a friend
a friend
who in circles
tells you
nothing
and asks for everything
deserves most
receives none
kicked him in the crotch
called the cops
i didnt mean it
couldnt hear it
between her cell phone their cell phone
and an echo we call by the name of a little girl
he's my platonic boyfriend
no one understands
i hit with love
he loves
abuse is a five letter word
and im stuck on it like its stuck on me.

kicked him in the crotch
called the cops

drive slowly friend
we aren't made to last
and if friends came like ships
id sail on your boat first
i dont play games
none of your sorry sick women-object games aboard
i am not your object
you love me like your brother
we are fraternal
we are forever
your ego is my omelet

no big deal

joshua w.

i bought a few poems off of a guy that lived on the street in boone, north carolina. he included drawings. these are unrelated, but i liked each of them the best of what i have.




- True Prosperity

One guy come by and makes
everyone feel at home in 10 min.
someone else gives a flower or
a hug.

Each does his part

Hawk is opening a new outlet
ÂmT is now being employed
The cop's on time
Gene manages a local business

Each does his or her part
One brother pays for the coffee
One brother pays for dinner
We work to bring True Prosperity

Each does his or her part

So roll that
spirit tobacco
So drink that
strong brew esspresso
So applaud that
violin lute duet.
This is better than...

When all the marching is over
When all the jogging is run
When all works are finished
Then the whole building will be
properly built.

Each did his or her part
- joshua W., 1997

spring grove ave

^ warehouse in my neighborhood back in the purple colerain days

corner ME

thank you thank you thank you...

for the music

my trip to northampton and the girls at smith college

a great find...
from not so great a place.....

long long ways from here, speeding down roads where no one can hear me belting til my throat goes dry. i find im an escapist on those hills, in those tiny dug up towns dotted with fogged bars with trucks lined up outfront. i use bright lights blinding others, and sloppy, i knock the cherry from my cigarrette into the clean rented upholstery. dollar and speed signs pass my periphery and even those sirens can't remind me of where i am.
sleeping in someone else's bedsheets washed in liquid detergent, on pillows that still hold last night's perfume, i am not home. i have the rich girl disease today and i decide i am a princess. columns on houses whiter than their oil of olay face wash and french-tipped pedicures. its contagious, i decide- like conjunctivitis- getting it from the bed and embroidered terry cloth towels in the bathrooms.
newspapers telling you how to dress and ripped jeans are a sign of abandonement. and when you park your BMW dont be afraid to move it because we all drive to impress others.
trellised gardens, topiaries in the shape of crosses, and gazebos i nickname gazebras. smoked salmon and strawberry lunches...i am full.
and i return to the heartland, half surprised i can still survive, half impressed i am to be grateful. because sometimes i want three-hundred dollar shoes, well-exfoliated skin, and a spray-on tan.
sometimes i wish someone would clean my bathroom and feed me chocolate dipped fruit.

the eccentric centrist

it was at the far reaches of the overlooking balcony that i felt that first breath of open air, once again. i was not born in or around this salad-bowl but managed to circle it for some long period of time, spiraling down until the middle of thie bowl i reached. wonderfully, the first rejuvenating properties of free breath come with a visual that is limited by these walls - hills, wooded - that shade my eyes like a horse's blinders.

- "now," i say, "i may," i think, "move forward."
in this place, this bowl place, forward, i suppose, is around and around. but as we start in one place, as the earth does, and travel our straight line, circling our sun, and thus arrive where we began our straight line, yet older, the center and the limits of our salad-bowl must be the same place, but older.

pitchers

cincinnati 2006 ˆ

my going-away activity was to drive around and take photos from the front seat of my car.

i was more seriously doing photography about 5 years ago, but stopped as i was starting to grasp ideas about exposure, filters, whatnot. none of these are of stellar quality, so i surely could use some instruction. miss lauren?

dublin, ireland 2004 >

there was a boy hiding
in the bushes. she has a

'surprise'

for him

westport, ireland 2004 ˆ

answer

so yes that did happen. for better or worse i dont remember all the details, or what provoked the gentleman. i dont believe the episode bothers me, but i also dont know the mood that comes across in the words. maybe a critique from you would help. at this point its another story going in the vault.

making friends

an acquaintances birthday was a
chance to get to know some people
an attempt at being a social person once more

shy and outgoing
dud and life of the party

went to the bar after watching a
john wayne special
walking like
the duke

missed the people
talked to gay foreigners over drinks
rockabilly open mic

left for the place where one person knows my name
dollar beers and pool with queers
this one was
kissing me while
losing the game for us

time to leave i saw
managed to find the birthday crew
some too drunk to recognize me
perhaps they dont know me anyway

hulloo hullay
invited to a house for refreshments
then the night
shatters like bottles
memory scattered on black pavement

in a parking lot
shirtless violent person
protect the weak woman his noble cause
called me a
mother fucker pervert creep
(all relative terms)

called the cops
threw me to the gravel
tore my shirt
i walked away without offering resistance

the night was humid
the walk home, like earlier -
dim street lamps set a
glow
out and around the trees
wet reflection of vapors

feeling mistreated, i gave
the finger
to an empty town
until my arm became sore
then walked
cut
bruised
denim jacket
low brow
to the end of the street
stood on the corner

4 police cars

"whats the matter, sir"
- i feel upset and have been wronged, sir
"do we have a problem here"
- i could have gone home but decided to stand here.
"what has happened"
- nothing that can be changed. i am going home
"see that you do"

i do not fight when provoked
i do not cringe when fondled
i do not argue with police

i have a headache
my ass hurts
i find new cuts here and there

i may stay home tonight

pie for frank

i made roasted potatoes and turkey loaves for dinner for Frank. he enjoyed it while i burned the roof of my mouth on a potato too hot to taste, rosemary and olive oil dripping from its paper skin. after dinner i sat for a while tonguing a blister formed on my palette, popped somewhere between my homemade strawberry rhubarb pie and rasberry ice cream. after the potato skin - my skin- a charred flap of not-so-opaque epidermi that i could rip off, then finger its delicate texture. frank didn't noticed- albuterol breathing treatments last about 10 minutes, just long enough to catch a smoke outside. when i came back, frank asked if he could have a piece of pie, a piece of the already half eaten lattice-crust strawberry rhubarb sitting on the counter. "frank," i remind him, "you've already had two slices, are you sure you want another?" He didn't seem to hear me and folded his snotty tissue into a tiny square. i rolled up my tiny swatch of mouth skin into a little ball. we watched tv in the dark, in silence, until it was time for me to leave.

dinah won't you blow...

good luck with your recital. i know you blow horns like new york city traffic. i cant even blow my nose right now.... allergies!
yur flyer is hot. who took the picture?
work work work. my old man is keeping me busy.
we need a picture for our blog!?!?

recital

this is my recital poster for this weekend. was trying to post it for the last few days, but for some reason wouldnt take the format. reason why i said my folks were coming was that they will require much of my attention, adding to the already substantial weight of organizational responsibilities my brain is dealing with. am looking forward to playing, though. the chinese student association of OU is providing food for the post-recital reception, on account that tsun-hui is the president of the group. i greatly appreciate the creation of a co-blog. thanks