Georgia

drunken poets of n. winooski ave.

drinking wine, self loathing, glorifying favorite artists, drinking tea, greeting cards, dancing, listening to "to ramona" at least once a day, self loving, writing all of my life down.

Austen, Kirby, Carver, Rimbaud, Sexton, Tolkein, McMurtry, Steinbeck, Tolstoy, Gaiman, Sendak, Adams (Douglas)...

thief, crow, princess bride, brewster mccloud, big lebowski, repo man, house of yes, don't look back, streetcar named desire (brando/leigh version), true west...

dead, dylan, guthrie, zep, floyd, seeger, waits, cash, young, rage, bright eyes, hank iii, infected mushroom, analog pussy, big black, nelson, simon (and sometimes garfunkle)

Taurus

in some alleyway filled with discarded pieces of various lives i sat. not entirely sure of who i was or where i was bound but sure of my being and sure of my being surrounded by discarded pieces of lives id never known nor cared to. my thoughts were there, they existed somewhere outside of my head. there where thoughts dwelling on my decomposing body and the boy in the striped shirt walked by storing his thoughts of girls and chess neatly inside his head while i hid beneath a dumpster so he couldnt see my scattered unsightly mind. i didnt care about the boy and his neatly filed ideas i cared about mine not wanting to expose them to those innocent eyes that would strip them of all their dirty power while i waited for them to take seed and grow in the grime that coated my skin forming armor against the tyrannies of normalcy. and, sitting amid this waste, i realized. i realized something as equally disturbing as it was beautiful. i saw a flower, a single simple daisy poking out of the darkest corner. i saw a grown woman cry over the joy her daughter owned. i saw many young men lose their minds. i saw a freight train of broken hearts speeding to some final resting place. i picked myself up and tried to wipe away a spot of grime to find the pink underneath it all and heard my mothers voice warning against shoring up my heart and my father reminding me of the first time i saw a dog hit by a car. i remembered that time was not standing still and i probably had somewhere to be going and, putting one foot out i fell back to my simple daisy in the darkness and found it surrounded by faces i used to know and lives i used to live. found myself meandering, dressed in camouflage and crying in an empty airport. now time IS standing still. im winding the clock. backwards.

time with his blue eyed cowboy smiles blowing dust with his kisses...