well this has been a long time coming in a way. its focused on something recent but draws from back a ways. the rest of this paragraph is the end to the intro/meditation for the whole series plus things i didnt post so if it seems a little dramatic, it still probably is, but its a little less so than it would be otherwise. I mean who cares though. Every once in a while you just have to go with it right?
Sometimes I wonder about waking up one morning and finding the old car sitting outside my window and I'd be willing to bet it would be intimately familiar to go out and drive it again. Like crossing an old floor, opening a remembered drawer, or even like tying shoes or looking at the stars or maybe both at the same time.
So this is about leaving and this is about coming home.
This is about finding roads that don't belong.
This is about failing to live up to expectations.
This is about taking unexpected turns.
And of course, this is about ugly lovers and this is about pretty sons.
This is about everything in its right place.
And this is about being let down.
But this is about being alright with that.
And this is about lying.
This is me trying to write about driving.
But most importantly this is about the feeling you get when the windows are open and the temperature is just right. The sun is getting low to the place where fields and trees light up from the inside out. The wind blows in the window and swirls around behind you. And we continue to float through space. The earth creeks slowly but you don't even notice it because you're going too fast in the other direction.

Seven Ways of Saying Goodbye

“The remnants of a shooting star landed directly on our broke down little car
Before then we had made a wish that we would be missed”
-Isaac Brock

i. the lonesome crowded west


ii. bee thousand

trash night

i waited until four in the morning to climb quietly out of bed, to slip silently down the stairs, and to squeeze slowly through the front door, scared to open it all the way. to glide across the lawn, grass glassy with dew, reflecting moon and street light upon my momentary figure. reached the foot of the driveway and took off the lid to bury it under the weeks newspaper and junk mail to be taken away by a rusty truck under a new eastern sun. maybe i should have burned it. maybe that would have been too easy. crickets slept, a siren wept and then left, leaving me with an old friend.

stayed up all night
just to watch the sun rise
and the garbage truck rumble by,
but now all i am is tired
so i’ll leave it behind

iii. alligator

night-time, we were wading around the southside
until we were all but ourselves,
emptying buildings kicking streetlights
like dust into the sky,
carrying colors on our bodies that don’t belong
and feeling heavier for it.
if we could turn them off we’d disappear completely
but even so, we come close—
crash into the front and passenger seats
bridge to I-79 north of the city
and its glow that takes years and miles to leave behind.
in the frame of the windows
trees sprout up between buildings
and the folds of the hills close across our exhaust trail.
one of us in and out of sleep so i turn the music down
10 miles 25 minutes
cause i didn’t want to wake her up.

still gone but now alone,
starlight washed out on the grass,
my yard where i was
always calm but never comfortable.
sneaking in the back door,
arguing with myself about
how easy it is to leave a house
in search of a home

iv. why there are mountains/feel good lost

crossed the oklahoma-texas border
found the answer
driving across the american desert
in the middle of the night, no reason to go to sleep
headed to west texas, the great american deep
the release of things that I could never keep-
the car, the house, your address, the dreams.
cut the headlights underneath
stars brighter than you could ever believe
air warmer than breath on my cheek

pulled into pecos like it was the last living town
of the great southern drift
i think it is
played it cool
kicked a dent in my fender so i would fit in.
i dig the part where nobody knows my name
so i stayed here until christmas
brought me home like every year
to suffocated roads that feel like my veins
when i heard about grandma on new year’s eve
or grandpa one christmas in florida…
both days played it cool like nobody knew my name

but when the house was empty
and i had grown old enough
i’d drive out to the hillsides
think about the lie and how i told it
get myself lost on purpose
and try to find my way home in the dark

v. slanted and enchanted

watched a new father
who'll never know
drive away from my old home
drive away with my old home

vi. cold roses

one last time
a hill,
my house,
a hill,
looped around once
to see if your car was there.
tried to think of something to say.
nothing. not today.

shut the door, it started to rain,
wouldn't have locked it either way.

vii. there's nothing wrong with love

cleaning out the car with my dad
for the first time and the last time.
lost 70s cassete of the marshall tucker band—
carolina dreams
i should have never started loving you

Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
this is gorgeous. moments here or there are too cryptic for me to understand the personal significance, but the voice is captivating. ii just drips of secrets and clandestine activity. all is not revealed, but it would be a letdown if it was. iii and iv land securely, on memorable lines.
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I release my inner liberal every morning when I take a shit.
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I wont be like those jerks who dedicate their beliefs to logic and reaosn.
i don't what i can say man. i read it and i felt it, end to end, inside and out. i remember reading your last piece like this, the "vishnu" one, and i felt the same way. the voice is so confident and in control and i admire the way you can create this collage of varying images and settings and construct an ambience around the entire thing. well done.
here, My Dear, here it is
the intro normally kills the feel of the piece, your intro enhanced the hell out of it. I couldnt finish all of it yet because the girl is breathing down my neck to get to bed but I will be back and what I have read I have loved so much. be back soon.