slowing down the time

i need to slow down and live with things for a while.

i have a tendency to just barrel through poems and then freak out that they're not where they should be.

i tend to rewrite a lot due to do this. part of me feels it could be solved by slowing down and spending more time with the pieces. by writing less.

i think overall i just need to worry less and spend more time thinking about the poems.



-sure enough and yes i do
-everything, all the time
-ways of drowning
-waiting for the sky to fall
-things i will hang from trees
-an attempt at a comprehensive guide to ghosts
-horses and what they can do
-birds and what they can do
-clouds and what they can do
-bones and what they can do
-notes on being torn apart by horses
-my back is split and broken
-i apologize
-and in the silence was heard the sound of a galloping of horses, and of a great many wings





everyday genius is finishing up. i have two stories in the next gigantic and two poems in the next lit. three novella excerpts are coming out next year, one in sleepingfish one in alice blue review and one in noo journal. with an umlaut.



poems i am working on

-bones and what they can do
-notes on being torn apart by horses [basically done]
-everything, all the time [basically done]
-waiting for the sky to fall [basically done]
-i will build this boat my damn self

-we are all of us up to something [several short adventures involving bullets tied to some colored rope]


i don't know. i've been neglecting this thing a lot. i'm not sure what to put. i feel worried about all sorts of stupid shit. which is probably what i should put here. my fears and feelings.




and so it's like, i don't know a week later. it's december 29. this probably could have been a separate post, but it wasn't. oh well.

i've been talking to ben mirov about this whole slowing down thing. it's hard. it is really goddam hard to just sit there and wait to figure something out. which is why i start new poems. so that i can have something to take my mind off it.

books feel weird right now but this will pass.

my right boot leaks. ordered a new pair of boots for more money than i wanted to pay. paid anyway. we are all of us some kinds of tools, right? or, i am. i am becoming more ok with that as time passes.

need to get a job. will put the short adventures away. feel good about the notes on being torn apart by horses. i think the narrator of that poem is the same as the narrator of the new short adventures. i am not yet certain if it is the same narrator as the other two horse poems. one of which is going to be in the next issue of LIT. it is called ON MY BACK IN A FIELD IN THE RAIN. the other poem is about the kitchen and is called NOW WE SIT US DOWN TO EAT. WAITING FOR THE SKY TO FALL also takes place in the kitchen and it doesn't include an "i" which is nice and feels weird right now as all the poems are "i" poems. all the poems so far. most of them. probably yes all. there is one "you" poem. about paper ships and ghosts.

i still want to try to write a poem called AN ATTEMPT AT A COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE TO GHOSTS. it should probably be a long poem told in sections, each section being a description of one idea of a ghost.






if anyone has any ideas about what a ghost is, please let me know.