my life just took a drastic turn for the worse.

i missed a credit card payment, not because i didnt have money, well maybe i didnt, but mostly because i just forgot and now my credit limit dropped drastically by about 700 dollars so now what i was planning on using to apply for graduate school was just eliminated.

this after my previous plan of using medical study money for a medical study that i was
"sure to get into" failed because of BILIRUBIN. which is a waste product in your blood that doesnt really do anything except it can make your skin turn yellow when you bruise.

i am going to die. poor. hungry. cold. stupid. bruised.

because i am not up
tempo be
cause &
effect of broken home
or less
being on cold cement
street cracked
where i
bleed gas
or barrel warmth
to smoke &
cloud off in addiction
hide from space
in the sky

love poem

logically i maneuver back
solid hands
or was it subtle soft
not a mans
stubble lost by coarse
demands
confusing cowboy law
too much drinking - horses
trough
free to survey or wander
all the land
your nipples thighs
your soft hands
the grass of unclaimed prairie
where wild fur stands

new list

university of montana 51$ jan 5
boise state university 55$ jan 15
cornell 70$ dec 15
iowa 60$ jan 3
virginia 60$ jan 2
umass 65$ jan 15
oregon 50$ jan 15
minnesota ?$ dec 20

all this editing and re-reading of my own poetry-
im starting to feel like im losing
some sort of (thing)
some part of myself in the poems
i feel like im looking at them
and not writing them or
not feeling them and that
is very frustrating sometimes i
just start talking/writing from a voice
and im not really sure where its from
or whats going on
its not even so much just in this
the editing and re-reading but
its all over in everything that i do
i feel like im not me sometimes
but im not really sure where i went

not hymn
(re-writ again)

i
the deafness of one is
not underestimated
to be
by even the most atheistic
apostles &
although debt is a virtue
hanging by log
pined into our wet brains
the sounds i
am
makes when prayer
is a possible
answer or
hitting coolly laid
pavement another—
never sums up
the callous silence
of an accident

ii
to be a collossus of
parallel tracks
& or ruble
of prone steal
reminds a bend
or some say tunnel
who is truly coming
by
& by
but still remains un—
proven what
lies
ahead

iii
standing up
for several hours &
then kneeling
before standing up once more
all the while denying
effort transcends
triumvirate bodies in
the name
of the etcetera

iv
cannot remember face
or fact by calling
out to nameless robes
in vain
though names were never
necessary
all under breath
of rib
gnostic &
believable
when darkness was
a lovely man
silhouetted by pale
hourse &
my mouth rang
with swords

v
on rocks made of skulls
you & i
sit fist-tight
against stubbled chins
waiting
for sheepskin to soak
up what is not there
or never was
some firmament
of voices
choir leering with
their omniscient
bald
beards
only watching to count
pentamerous
mistakes we make
in forgiveness
refusing to take back
all that is
set into wooden
stone by
motion
in lyrical disconnected
dissonance
they

peregrine
for ellen

beaming beat
heart wrapped tight
in powerful breast
muscles
leading eyes noting sky
drops high altitude
toward wings of
babel duck you
yell from towers of heaven
dust on my lips
lingering run—
way by o'hare
keeping owls
& owls from
finding plain or
feeble mouse walk
scaring my elephant arms
from holding on
to the memory
in your fragile shells
& graceful glide

forgetting brontosaurus

magik is
not an option
before ice plains
erase
my meteor— a drop
sewing life
buckets a dinosaur
after dinosaur
they do not clash
thundership noah-boats
clap
metaphor—
beyond the heavenly
death and again
it reminds that you
die
in several different ways
before you
ever become extinct
to hells
invention

more editing

not hymn

i.
the deafness of god is
not underestimated
to be
by even the most atheistic
apostles &
though debt is a virtue
hanging by log
pined into our wet brains
the sounds one makes
when prayer is a
possible answer
or hitting coolly laid
pavement another—
never sums up
the callous silence
of an accident

ii.
to be a colossus of
parallel tracks
& or rumble
of prone steal
reminds a bend or
some say tunnel
who is truly coming
by
& by
but still remains un—
proven what
lies
ahead

iii.
standing up
for several hours &
then kneeling
before standing up once more
all the while
denying
effort transcends
triumvirate bodies in
the name
of the etcetera

iv.
cannot remember face
or fact by calling
out to nameless robes
in vain
though names were never
necessary
all under
breath of rib
gnostic &
believable
when darkness was
a lovely
man

v.
on rocks made of skulls
you & i
sit fist tight
against stubbled chins
waiting for
sheepskin to soak
up what is not there
or never was
some firmament
of voices
leering with
their omniscient
bald beards
only watching to count
pentamerous
mistakes
we make in
forgiveness