all empty spaces
remind me of places
where kids used to play jacks
outside in the middle of the road
you wish they’d play ball
but i guess you’re happy they’re outside at all.
when a child looks up at you
from his seat on the bus
you imagine his face, forty years from now,
with grey hair and wrinkles,
not to mention the disappointment
of love spent
and love lost
and love not reciprocated.
You hear him, forty years from now,
telling Shelly and her Friends
That One Funny Story
of when he got
For now the jacks
don’t seem so bad
in comparison to
the ball they should be playing.
better to be outside at all
for in a few months
the sun will set at four p.m.
and the kids will grow hair on their faces
and in all other places,
and one of them will have a kid too early
and others won’t have kids at all.
(Poem written for Photo by Gina Pollack)
9:24 pm • 2 May 2014 • 2 notes
The More You Know
Now I am older.
The years have begun to “pile on”
as they say. So
I visit the home of my youth to discover
that the curious smell of frying potatoes,
that wafts like a dense fog a mile before I enter the city,
was just the potato chip factory
right next to the highway behind the concrete wall
(and to think they used real potatoes!)
and not only that;
the long line of cars that seemed to never end,
always to the left as my father drove me to soccer practice,
was just the traffic jam
before the exit to the unemployment office
that closes at 5pm.
and do you remember:
the plumber who was always on his way out
just as i was returning from school
(on the days I did not have soccer practice)?
he happens to live next door to my mother
after she moved out to florida
last year on a whim.
(Photo by Vivian Maier)
5:01 pm • 22 April 2014 • 7 notes
“A story is like…we’re walking down the street and I see a guy and he leaves his shoes in front of a tanning salon. So I go and I pick up his shoes, and inside his shoes there’s a note, and the note says, “If you call this number, I’ll give you three gold bars and a blowjob.” So you call that number, and you go to that person’s house, and actually… uh, it’s your, uh, guidance counselor, and it was just a ploy to get you to take your MMP personality test to figure out which school you should go to. So you go in there, and you take the test, he grades it right in front of you, says you should become a bricklayer. You don’t listen to him, you go back home, your mom cooks you dinner, and you go to sleep. And that’s a great story, right? But I can’t tell you what the plot is.”
— interview with harmony korine
10:43 am • 11 March 2014 • 19 notes
He took a bite,
for what felt to me a full minute.
He took a sip of water,
closed his eyes for three seconds.
(i had counted this time.)
and finally he said
"that pie was to pie for"
I laughed so hard
I choked on the graham cracker crust,
he knew the heimlich maneuver.
(Photo by Chris Killip)
6:13 pm • 7 January 2014 • 2 notes
have you heard of stranger things happening
than strangers who happen
to fall in love?
8:19 pm • 17 December 2013 • 1 note
Have your ears cleaned
spritz perfume between your legs
and you may stand a chance
(Photo by Hannah Price)
9:00 pm • 30 November 2013
I want to breathe a different air
than what I’m used to;
(Photo by Michelle Sank)
3:05 am • 30 November 2013 • 2 notes
A man sits in prison
dreaming of the fisherman
who is sleeping on his boat
(Photo still from Samsara)
6:31 pm • 29 November 2013 • 1 note
did you learn something interesting today?
1:00 pm • 24 November 2013