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Daniel

I've been working a lot on the food blog lately.  There's some yummy stuff there.

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Current Location: Home
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battle the Pink Robots, Pt. 1

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( You are about to view content that may only be appropriate for adults. )

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Current Location: Home
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: Cornershop - Brimful of Asha

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My throat hurts and
my brains are slow.
There’s a warm damp
film on my scalp.
My eyes are dry
scratchy and dull.
I’m tired and I
can’t sleep.

He’s asleep now.
He waited as long
as he could wait.
His warm body
is an implied
invitation
that I can not
accept.

The house is still
but for three cats,
an overhead fan,
a dripping tap,
a ticking clock,
his measured breath
and all my best
denials.

McGlothlen 2009

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Current Location: Writer's Hell
Current Mood: accomplished

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This small freak show
high flying boy
his free falling
stopped forever
trapped in photo
graphic amber
in this circus
of knots

His small mouth curled
around his face
his arms twisted
behind his back
his legs splayed in
naked glee, he
is a carnal
carny

This small freak show
he and I built
one night after
deciding to
organize a
tangle of rope
and gravity
and skin

McGlothlen 2009

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Current Location: Writer's Hell
Current Mood: accomplished

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A bad night of
Edith Piaf
hog hollers at
my basement desk.
Huddled and tired
I clatter at
these keys and click
this mouse.

Writing is an
ugly jacket
you only wear
because you have
nothing else that
fits and because
the night is dark
and cold.

I hate this place.
This place is where
the talent goes
couch-surfing and
dumpster diving
and spends its days
begging for change
from God.

McGlothlen 2009

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Current Location: Writer's Hell
Current Mood: accomplished

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These bins hold tools:
flour and black beans,
rice and corn meal.
These shelves burst with
spices and jars
of tomatoes,
chutney, quince and
jelly.

Here are my knives.
Here are my spoons
and here are the
pots and pans that
heat feverdreams
of barley soup,
of roasted joints,
of bread.

This is my room.
This is where my
heart comes to show
my hands the way
these tools might help
manufacture
edible states
of grace.

McGlothlen 2009

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Current Location: writer's Hell
Current Mood: accomplished

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The Lincoln Logs
under the bed
are right next to
jigsaw puzzles
and mismatched socks.
There’s a broken,
domed nightlight on
the wall.

Lumps of Play-doh
clot the old rug
and the beds lie
unmade in a
girlish chaos
that explodes with
mancala stones
and dolls.

I am a guest
in this no-man’s
room and my sleep
is uneasy.
Girls roam wild here.
The air is ripe
and strong with their
laughter.

mcglothlen 2009

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Current Location: Writer's Hell
Current Mood: accomplished

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This old skin hangs
disappointed,
a ragged drape
of meat and hair,
vestigial
and age-blasted.
Unfamiliar
but mine.

This old skin is
a wrinkled sack,
emptied of the
fatty masses
that protected
insulated
suffocated
my heart.

This old skin can
at a time of
my own choosing
be partly shed
with the help
of a skilled and
professional
butcher.

McGlothlen 2009

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Current Location: Writer's Hell
Current Mood: accomplished

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A true story:
the boy had ink
a sleeve tattoo
Jabberwocky
neatly lettered
wrapped around his
slender forearm
like lace.

I want to write
my own true and
obscene stories
on his blank white
spaces so he
is flecked with my
articulate
matter.

His smile will come
in the moment
that he stirs and
his eyes flicker
open to gaze
upon his skin’s
shiny new suit
of words.


McGlothlen 2009

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Current Location: Writer's Hell
Current Mood: accomplished

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I actually USE Facebook (as opposed to LJ which I've more or less stopped using). Most of you are already friends there. If you're not, and you'd like to be, feel free to mention it in the comments section of this post. I'll screen comments.

Thanks.

Current Mood: accomplished

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