Tip Of My Toungue Hurts

23. From a poem by Eileen Myles



the past have shadows, shadows creeping slow and confident
a
parade in honor of all you've lost paradise, leaving behind
streamers, bottles and sawdust.

saves time over time, you
plays hide and seek, count to the end and you find
under the bed or stuffed in a closet as
huddled inside a whale.

bodies do not forgive, your guardian angel
has run away with your girlfriend, and you are one of those men
they know that heaven and hell are the others,
ghosts that follow you from all mirrors.

Your verses have the rhythm of music and you turn off
each poem with the butt of a memory. Lees
words dazzle you like flashes
and then you seem veiled negative future.

Everything is written with the same script. ___________________________________________

Age Of Empires 1 Full Verision

22.



This is not a poem. Or at least it's not a poem
on another poem in which
write about the impossibility of writing. This is the only way
after so many shortcuts and missteps.
Each sentence
crackles like those socks with those who masturbate old in nursing homes.
Every sentence seems to be the first but also the last,
a necklace and do not have words, words that once
you
suspended in the air as the climax of a hanged
but now I cling to soil and land. How
say "you no longer want /
but always love you"
two verses that contain the whole truth
and then throw the key into the abyss? How to write
"all over as it started" and then delete
and make the small print that burns itself out when we
page? You've kept the love
like notes in a handkerchief, in a mattress, full of scales
cocaine
all fingers and noses all have gone through them. And now,
love is the arbiter of a chair fencing championship wheel.
Love is a magnet with a picture of us in the fridge.
A toy forgotten that months after Reyes
regains life with a pair of new batteries
and moves throughout the house
waving his arms and tripping over every wall. ______________________________________________________

Pudding Ideas For A Brithish Themed Party

Final Solution 21. Prequel released on video.



"... And whatever the rivers in which we seek our
reflection we see ourselves only when we turn around." Henrik
Nordbrandt


The latter are never any good, we already knew
before returning to meet our beach then.
There are so many things we have to tell
just sitting on some old tires
observing the same dunes that summer together.
is a clear, calm morning. The wind plays with your hair.
wearing sunglasses, camouflage who has become elusive.
I have had many girlfriends since then I've slept with girls
I have changed the perception of the world
filtering my wishes as gold diggers in a bank. You have believed
find true love
to replace the true love and
experience you shining is a benign tumor in the palm of his hand, surrounded
moments endless legs and wrists,
and "learn the keys to pain in two weeks."
Some bodies have eroded our bodies, our souls
creating silent forms of ocher,
plain sad, vacant land and ravines
from those same bodies were thrown.
's hot, you hear sirens in the distance ambulance
roar of heavy machinery, the center of gravity
many other lives. We still talk but we both know
that ours has become a hopeless eternity,
and much as I strive to write poems that speak
dignity and survival, of glaciers and deserts,
storage rooms and mezzanines, and however much
you write about the life that you insist on going through hell
live every moment, we both know that whatever
faces in which we seek
we see each other every time we turn around. _________________________________________________________