02 July 2010

September 14, 2011

You sit and stare into your coffee
and the smell
reminds you
bills are stacked on the kitchen table
the sink is full of tea stained coffee mugs
you haven’t fed the cat
in two days

Then the phone rings

It’s mother
and you’re a child again


at MoMa

November 15, 2010

At MoMa
I walk
again invisible;
trying to figure out
Life became discourse

Plum tree

September 29, 2010

The light has not decided
if its coming up
Or not
as I stand in my boxers
And put on a crisp white shirt
I’m looking out the window
and this plum tree is staring
Right back at me
Some plums have fallen
to rest
While others still clutch the tree
on the branch surrounded by green
September leaves

I think to myself
There is a lesson here

It’s good to have a plum tree
outside your window
Because you could run around
naked and nobody would
know and plums,
they taste good too

On smoking

September 20, 2010

It’s oddly comforting
When people smoke
In streets, bars, cafes,
Women all hold Slims
between red lips
Because they know
that for the sake of beauty
You cannot give a fuck
and it’s an easy kind of
edge to live on

Men smoke over coffee,
Or on breaks,
A manly sight which says
‘Work has been done’
Or maybe: ‘work will soon
be done when
I’m done with this
here smoking break’

I wish I could still smoke
In a London bar
Then I would order
a sidecar, or an old fashioned
And men would think:
‘He’s on a break
from something important’
‘He sure looks like he’s about
to start some important task’

And women would think:
‘He looks so thoughtful;
he must be a poet or
an artist or something, I
should sleep with him’