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    dotsJournal: Irrationalistdots
    Mood: Lunar Affected

    All poems are from "The Irrationalist," by Suzanne Buffam.


    To cross an ocean
    You must love the ocean
    Before you love the far shore.



    There is no cake in the oven, alas
    But a small bit of effort
    Could put one there.



    Two houses stand aloof
    In their emptiness.

    The same dusty sunlight
    Licks the floorboards

    Of your future and your past.
    It is good

    To be homeless
    For an hour.



    Make lists
    Of things you have already done.
    Pleasure exists
    In crossing them off one by one.



    To be a valley
    Find a hill
    And lie down at its feet.


    ...Created 2011-09-13 00:57:17

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: Crazy

    ...Created 2011-09-13 00:34:00

    dotsJournal: That Which Is..dots
    Mood: The Usual

    When nothing comes, you sit and stare,
    willing other people there.
    You wish to open up your mind,
    converse, repeal, discover, find.

    But no friends come to grace the door,
    No words bubble to the fore.
    Silence stretches, long and thin,
    Like wrappers in the garbage bin.

    Like poems in the garbage bin.

    ...Created 2011-09-11 12:04:09

    dotsJournal: This Is Weirddots
    Mood: Contemplative

    Words float disembodied,
    cleaved from their meanings.
    I might be speaking any language.
    Few things seem weighty enough to give utterance.
    My mouth sprawls dumb on the carpet of time,
    and my hand becomes futile, scratching
    meaningless glyphs.

    In the shower, life becomes instructions
    on a shampoo bottle: lather, rinse, repeat.
    The laundry downstairs spins its jaded cycle;
    the wind outside flattens branches to the panes.
    I become each of them.

    ...Created 2011-09-06 15:11:02

    dotsJournal: fragmentsdots
    Mood: Sigh...

    In my heart, a predictable longing,
    set within this cage of bone.
    For these ghosts, a familiar haunting,
    do not let me close this door.

    ...Created 2011-09-06 12:45:55

    dotsJournal: Quietdots
    Mood: Tired

    For now, words escape me.
    They are fibers standing out on an angora sweater,
    fiber-optic lights blown careless under the moon.
    I search this interminable plain, mine it for salt and silver.

    There are holes all through this place, the very soil
    relieved of its nutrients. Hands have dredged before me; fingers burrow still.

    This is traveled ground. Its silence pervades me -
    is there anything worth saying?

    ...Created 2011-09-05 22:25:12

    dotsJournal: dots
    Mood: Frazzled

    ...Created 2011-09-04 13:07:46

    dotsJournal: Dis-Join...dots
    Mood: Frazzled

    "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." - Albert Einstein

    Re-Play. Re-Play. Re-Play. Re-

    The cassette is stuck,
    my thumb holding down the button as though
    it has a mind of its own.
    Its impression is on my skin. It breathes.
    My body becomes its own separate entity, speaking to me;
    sebaceous glands popping as though to say "rise up
    out of your chair and face the day, glowing;"
    heart fluttering its stilted message of guilt and remorse, nerves pattering and jumping a flustered rhythm.

    Life is the rhythm of a drum that i dance to with graceful inaccuracy

    Dance, then, you marionette.
    Shake your limbs as though no-one is watching.
    Flood your room with light from the window.

    ...Created 2011-09-04 13:03:32

    dotsJournal: AAAAHHHHHHdots
    Mood: Frustrated

    Every day I say I will start over.
    I will organize thoughts on their proper shelves.
    I will rightly divide my time.
    If frustrated, I will take a deep breath, and think
    about my next action.
    If bored, I will make a decision about what to do
    and stick to it.

    But every day, the thoughts come down off the shelves.
    They are in the present and are the present; they are presents boxed and unwrapped, the paper shredded and scattered and out of order.

    Time starts to slip.
    I can't decide what to do, and so do nothing.
    I get frustrated, and the self-hatred blooms like a mushroom cloud.
    i will not explode i will not explode i will not explode
    becomes a mantra to face the day.
    I am bored of this.

    ...Created 2011-08-30 15:43:20

    dotsJournal: Filled to Emptydots
    Mood: Filled to Empty

    A blank mind rankles my soul.
    It is at odds with the usual honk and flare of quick cars
    on dark streets, their streaking lights seemingly sent
    to baffle and confuse.

    Two states; one empty, one effervescent and overfilled.
    Such is the divided mind and the soul
    that travels in its wake.
    Such are the polarized caps of being.

    ...Created 2011-08-30 00:08:11

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.




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    January 10 07
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