clairvoyance;

twilight yet?

Kerry Giangrande — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 08:05:02 +0000

my palms are sweaty
i fumble about
with things around me.
the faucet is dripping, i think
or it could be a heart beat,
a baby birds.
i feel deadly empty and overly full
at the same time.
she is talking
the words sting and ignite
soon it will be over, doggy bagged leftovers
hot underneath skin and nothing
to free me of me, of my insides.
i want out.
i look at the cat
the cat looks at me
with disdain, with pity .
i wonder if
he has nightmares.

LOOKING FOR:

Kerry Giangrande — Sat, 23 May 2009 01:54:28 +0000

(from February 8th.)

1. trees that whisper to each other and kiss at night.
2. someone who loves things as deep and hard as I do.
3. Filling up.
4. to be unfolded and undone.
5. pretty words.
6. sad eyes.
7. someone who spells out I-w-a-n-t-y-o-u-n-o-w with their fingertips & eyes
8. having wings; being feathers.
9. not hope, but the place hope sleeps at night.
10. a smile that fits the smiles of a thousand universes and a thousand gods in it’s teeth.
11. not tears, but what tears are before they are a liquid.
12. someone who knew me before I was born.
13. jaw-lines.
14. Combo of infinites.
15. you.

May 22nd.
They’re all checked.
(please don’t let me wake up)

#100

Kerry Giangrande — Wed, 20 May 2009 16:52:21 +0000

there are things they tell us here, that sound a little strange, she thinks.
things for her to memorize, that are cold; leave her bones chilled.
she writes them down on lines on papers
and wonders about other kinds of feelings.
tiny fireflies, happy insides; happy lungs.
these things that they give to her do not provide this.
rising heart moments are so rare,
even missing them slips from her hands.
alternatively, it is more like a flame, or an emptiness;
how they might describe a hole as “gaping”: moral stories as fairy tales.
have real fairy tales slipped your mind?
you would not find lessons in a real fairy tale.
I mean the opposite of darkness, the exact opposite of physical pain.
there is almost nothing that fire cannot destroy, she thinks.
I will be like fire.
she stands tall; elbows up, fingers spread apart,
the tip tops of them facing the sky.
They forgot that glory means something other
than praise to some human being or another.
That glory does not hold hands with anyones god,
or the perfect face shape of a popular band member,
or the presidents of countries.
that glory is the whole of magnificence,
the outlines of it’s body, honoring and
bathing in the insides of purity for a moment or two.
glory means light, warm buzzing in air particles,
heaven-sounds and vulnerable tingles,
the pleasuring burn of alcohol entering and falling through the body.
In another life I was a star, and this is how I slept. she dreams.
“i will know the world forever, i will touch everything at the same time.”
sure of this.
nothing will exist and not reside in her mind at the same time;
insatiable knowledge: piles of it.
the honest nonsense; shapely lies that have bodies and fingernails,
coming home and shedding your poems off like clothing items,
echoing truths and the details of chaos — insides of tornadoes,
scribbles and napkins,
the circle an almost finished rocks glass leaves on the bar,
songs you never tire of hearing,
certain minutes and bodies you crave, tiny moments of peace,
like swapping your brain for warm bread from an oven;
These will always be the things she is grasping for,
watching the world walk in circles.
I am afraid you are forgetting to open back up your eyes.
we have lost our aesthetic instincts
and have become caves for troubling information.
I will be like fire.

I am rather

Kerry Giangrande — Tue, 19 May 2009 21:12:16 +0000

Afloat. it is very easy to get paranoid i have to hold it back

like a tugging dog on a leash.

mike doughty, “looks”

guess you just weren’t what I was looking for.

soon I will be back in Brooklyn.

soon I will be in the basement, red rug, i will string some lights and play my music every second i am there and i will be pulled down into the gritty nightmares of real life living.

but i don’t want to come down from here.

i want to stay afloat .

no one ever told me i would pray for things like this, like veering away from solid grounds, like feathers and sky, grey balloons and clouds, bad ideas and good ones, like blue caves of light.