Nobody's creekbed

songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations

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The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Friday, November 28, 2008

the special occasion of you

i saw you today
you were beautiful


Saturday, November 22, 2008

Us holding it together.
Us unraveling.
Often of the same morning.
The one story told now over thousands of years.

There was, finally, nothing to say.

He named his child Unrest.
He named his child Shitting Bull.

But see, he had no child. He was the child.

He had a thousand names but not one.

He named his child Sitting Bullshit.
He named his child Rest.

this day like old board games
wood-paneled rooms, indirect lighting
a grain to things

We do a bunch of things and then forget.
Sometimes, in the dark of night, reminiscence. . .
And then, always, day.

Nobody said the story was going to make any sense.

Dear Anonymous Person On Internet Messageboard,

I apologize for being the worst actor in the worst movie in the worst life in the worst world in the worst universe in the worst blink of the worst god's worst eye in the worst ever worst ever ever worst ever.

Your invitation to "go die" is being taken into serious consideration, as is your follow-up invitation to "go die now."

I only wish I could have somehow consulted with you before the garishly accidental and unfortunate moment of my birth.

I await all of your forthcoming work with keen anticipation! In the twilight of this meager existence, I need you, more than you realize. You are, rather surprisingly, the twinkle in your mother's eye. You are the favorite dirty word of a thousand rotten sons.

Justin David Stone

The only thing he wrote that year:
Adam Ant was driving that car.

Friday, November 07, 2008

michelle obama,
i love you

bless you and malia and sasha

bless barack

yes we can