Some mixed-media writing I made today. My typewriter broke in the process.

Some mixed-media writing I made today. My typewriter broke in the process.

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

12 notes

Some Verses from this Summer

(i.) 
the moon lies low over the Exxon station.
my camera’s died, but there’s still a sky 
I want to see; I wait
for the pinks to deepen, cradle
the little body on my backpack: the way I’d rest my head
on wandering days dreaming of Taipei.

(ii.)
ducking between the bars of the roadblock
coming down through the pines to the parking lot,
there’s a gathering of streetlights
for some sacrament unknown.
& there’s something in the Potomac soak’d
summer of Virginia we came back for, or maybe
just to get away from the bay. 
they were checking cars out of Baltimore;
you stashed your Smirnoff under my seat, wrapped it
in the bag like a baby in a basket.
then we turned off, took a different exit.

(iii.)
I ran all the way out
past the abandoned house 
that’s technically on Goolsby,
not Ruby; it doesn’t 
make sense.
you guys went before me, got
the good stuff from Philly
& I want to get there 
before you set it off.

(iv.)
quiet minds of the nocturnal, the holiday’s over;
the drive stretched on past midnight.
sometimes you stare like 
a security camera when you’re thinking, 
reviewing all the footage from the day.

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

5 notes

Of your forsworn house, don’t go to sleep if there’s an ant in your ear
Otherwise you’ll die, parked cars are like sleeping lions, watch out,
Safety from memory is in the pathless woods at night.
   - Bernadette Mayer, Midwinter Day

(Winter 2013)

Of your forsworn house, don’t go to sleep if there’s an ant in your ear
Otherwise you’ll die, parked cars are like sleeping lions, watch out,
Safety from memory is in the pathless woods at night.
   - Bernadette Mayer, Midwinter Day

(Winter 2013)

Of your forsworn house, don’t go to sleep if there’s an ant in your ear

Otherwise you’ll die, parked cars are like sleeping lions, watch out,

Safety from memory is in the pathless woods at night.

   - Bernadette Mayer, Midwinter Day

(Winter 2013)

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

8 notes

Exploring supermarkets on Be Still, Cody tour.
(Philadelphia, Spring 2014.)

Exploring supermarkets on Be Still, Cody tour.
(Philadelphia, Spring 2014.)

Exploring supermarkets on Be Still, Cody tour.
(Philadelphia, Spring 2014.)

Exploring supermarkets on Be Still, Cody tour.

(Philadelphia, Spring 2014.)

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

11 notes

Touming Magazine on repeat.
(Summer 2013)

Touming Magazine on repeat.

(Summer 2013)

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

4 notes

Allison, behind the community center.
(July 4th, 2013)

Allison, behind the community center.

(July 4th, 2013)

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

10 notes

mornings met with something missing
between the linoleum and remembering what I dreamed.
(summer 2013)

mornings met with something missing
between the linoleum and remembering what I dreamed.
(summer 2013)

mornings met with something missing

between the linoleum and remembering what I dreamed.

(summer 2013)

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

14 notes

I think a story that I’ve written on and off since I was sleeping in the storage room at punk house is more or less done. It’s a new feeling to me to focus on a single idea for such a long time and watch it expand and change the whole way. I’ll think about the orange light that would fill the room twice a day and be amazed at how fiction can step in for actual events. It affords a kind of power to tell things the way you would have them happen and not the way they ever do, and maybe that’s an incredible aid in dealing with life as it passes.

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

3 notes

ambulances
passing as the sky darkens.

a raised section of highway
level with where we stood
on the roof, & the rest of
the neighborhood
bottomed out between us.

hug your mom or pray or
don’t tell baopei.

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

4 notes

Some simple html poems made from various received text messages in my phone and a guide to exploring storm drains:

usingacopiedmaptonavigate

icouldlaughandsmileatallthesilliestthings

(Source: wakingamnesiarecedingnostalgia)

1 note