BLUE LUNGS TRYING

2011-03-29T16:56:00.000-07:00

Say 'Wisconsin,'

and listen to me flutter
it's been a little while now

I know it well and it evades me--
provocative March, what is this
you're tying the phones lines with?

Your better side is a frozen beer
bottle, Mendota side,
a relic of the floating big dive.

Even with your Northwoods,
even Bon Iver singing from them,
where do you want to go from here?

The snowmobiles are out again,
moist all over, small signs in the woods--
I would be inside with a fire.

Swelling with radishes out here,
plum blossoms in this dense grey,
you draw me in, you drive it away.

2009-10-20T21:30:00.001-07:00

These green leaves,
now red and orange,
are changing like I'd
change for you.

2009-09-25T12:30:00.001-07:00

We have been thought to be basic,
I have been taught to say

what do I know except mornings
yes I see it your way.

Bowing to the absences,
I want your raindrops

on my forehead

and your trees

down my arms too

for these berries, these intimations

another October, my skills

at rolling up a sleeping pad,

the space on my arm, are for you.

From Blue Lungs Trying

2009-07-31T18:28:00.000-07:00

V. Coastal education
gradual like distressing
these front gates.

Thinking small vices
up at Deep Creek,
wearing feathers,
pockets,
wind,
earrings,
sparklers

that's a storm! no,
it's a photograph
of worship

the smell of rain
in this time of wanting
and soft spring,
palm branches,
residual morning wind,
how to procure honey.

What was true here, stairs,
I give to you glitter for your ground,
the stones you'll come
to cherish, tomato juice.

I see turtles floating,
you hear horns outside;
we think the same thing

like stop listening,
water for your eyes
the yellow leaves,
and the lemon yellows.

You say it like you know
the answer you know the rest
and yet
flies inside today,
attracted to the specks,
are charming up the place a bit.

I can walk away to the mountain
and drive away to the sea
and it's only summer yet.

these days fly away

2009-06-08T06:55:00.001-07:00

like blades of grass

Weekdays

2009-05-13T19:28:00.000-07:00

A beauty of youth
is burning into the fire,
waking up.

Looking back into the spring,
springing our bones
into the street.

I was built to cry
on Sundays:
movies into sunsets.

I see turtles
floating, you hear horns outside.
We think the same thing.

Pouring Over

2009-05-01T08:34:00.001-07:00

We house anticipation
to match the water set to boil
and await our coffees
to bring it all together again.

Things are okay for us
all over the years
things are okay enough
to not mention in letters.

Coffee is up and we clamor
to share this time, over,
like we used to outside,
like we would on the porch.

We would sit then in the morning,
legs crossed and sincere, cigarettes burning,
our tree that we never thought about,
but loved nonetheless, shielding us.

We are not smoking now
and should be hugging
but for the years, but for
coping without one another.

It’s okay, of course,
because things are okay
and we even spill about
dreams coming true, seeing.

Our empty cups lay
next to one another,
rings aged calmly like our eyes
and it’s good to be together.

Words You'll See

2009-04-26T14:16:00.000-07:00

Like stop listening,
the yellow leaves,
and the lemon yellows.

You say it
like you know the answer
you know the rest

Flies inside today,
attracted to the specks,
are charming up the place a bit.

I can walk away to the mountain
and drive away to the sea
and it's only summer yet.

Blue Lungs Trying

2009-04-14T16:53:00.000-07:00

Here now, sweet,
desert heat, an oasis
of sun-blockers and pieced
vehicles: a matte motorcycle
like Los Angeles in the times.

Here at the beach,
the river bends
and our backs do,
nothing gold
except sweet jaws,
gold only the mango.

Here, sleeveless,
the children growing
up wild are they
piercing kidneys now
with their skin,
running scabby to death.

Here there's smoke here,
smoke here in the wind,
charcoal and sunglasses,
weekday mornings, casual
as holiday seashells.

2009-04-11T11:39:00.000-07:00

Saturdays like the last of them
celebrating collections in our heart pieces
of what we value in the trees around us:
the leaves we can't get to.

Scrolling down of the truck's window
as a reset button to freest freedom:
the man carrying home the pieces to make breakfast,
right turns without looking

Five minutes to the store,
sins upon him, sins unto her like
-a year sloughing about outside of Mexico City-
fluency as heroism, as peace.

As twangy as lighting one cigarette
with the prior one, pine,
and then rocking back,
what is it, tucked away.

Forgive me mother, I have confessions
that I dissolve with the sun out here.

2009-04-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

Now I know
the loquat tree

It's almost a song,
the echo of a song:

on the bat's back I fly
merrily toward summer

tasting the citrus,
peeling back the sweet skin
of March, sundowning outside

street lamps in the hills
above us, new canvas shoes
and baseball caps to honor one another

the grills billowing
moist heat in the night
we can watch it now

in full wonder,
revisiting the desert
at the hottest of times

relishing these epiphanic
entertainments and her fruits.

songs to survive the summer

2009-03-22T09:01:00.001-07:00

This isn't a device
anymore isn't spring
in its full harness form
more like visiting a city
wanting to occupy it,
buying groceries, routines.

Today's gloom is deep
mean reds like
springing like two
middle fingers
with his name on them
and oh so luscious
like your beauty
through wasting

this isn't going
to keep me away
isn't clothed at night
is ready to move
to another park.

On Sat, Mar 21, 2009 at 9:12 PM, Jared Linzmeier wrote:

This isn't a device
anymore isn't spring
in its full harness form
more like visiting a city
wanting to occupy it,
buying groceries, routines.

this isn't going
to keep me away
isn't clothed at night
is ready to move
to another park.

Portage, from L.A.

2009-03-12T18:20:00.000-07:00

Fifteen and wasting,
given away to
weekends packed in cars
in the backseats
with our headphones on
I am not who you think I am.

Bucks preyed upon,
we spent four years
or something like that
and I was always
waiting to live free.

Beer cans of smoke,
crinkled in the garage
thirty-five degrees
this is a dry wine.

Shaving for the hell of it,
touching upon the sacred
don't tell me how to kiss.

He knows best
nevermind where is his car

this blood will be safe in him.

2009-02-28T15:41:00.000-08:00

you say it like you know
the answer, you treat me
like prized ruins

you're seeing clearly now,
you treat me
like prized ruins.

2009-02-28T15:37:00.000-08:00

Storms
like a photograph
teach about moments
how to gape at rain
the smell of rain
if Innocence was
anything, she'd be
dreaming Deep Creek, thinking
sometimes grinding metal
smells like sparklers
wearing feathers, retaining
palm branches after the wind.

2009-02-19T13:03:00.000-08:00

I want your raindrops
on my forehead
and your trees
down my arms too.

Burn it to the end,
finish the round:
pool keeping
the nights going
the sets of Thursdays
were the same
now we're talking
they were angry
and pissed
and they were the same
as were Saturdays
we would drive
as fast as we could
stand to
at night
and we'd
lay in the street
trying to make
out the stars
trying not to
let it show
slow enough
like sick days as a kid
yet nobody is scared
enough to want more.

2009-02-17T22:45:00.000-08:00

No faith but what
she makes
is more like it.

No fate but
what he reads
about
Is how they spend
their mornings tussling,
watching a sunrise
and fearing
what it will bring.
Is being Saturday
stuck on punk
I don't know
how to say it
better than yous
you say it like
you know the answer
you treat me
like prized ruins
flush it with a picture
Is sight-hounds are sad
in the rain
like sitting still
like a tattoo
that says
water's calm
before it boils.

2009-01-24T19:26:00.000-08:00

A PIECE FROM THE COAST

Curling and uncurling:

I have allowed you to smoke

despite the asthma,

despite nights away

and cheeks turning red

from the frustration in your chest.

In Mendocino in the rain

he pulled over

and they talked about

no it can't be this good.

He held a ball in his hand

and cried.

Our driver combed his hair

and rain leveled into the silence.

No more. No more dwelling.

Rise up after that as

the man still rubbing saddle soap

into his hands has been allowed

one sobbing and now must

return to the land he deserves.

Rise up now it's time.

This is the hour of house and tree,

leaf and blade, stick and stone.

2009-01-01T13:39:00.000-08:00

For Mom

2008-11-23T21:17:00.001-08:00

Retreat

2008-11-02T12:16:00.000-08:00

2008-10-09T10:10:00.000-07:00

Limited edition of 100 books!

Opening reception

Saturday October 18th

7-11pm

BERDHOUSE • 1505 1/2 Echo Park AVE • 213 482 9976

For Praise

2008-10-07T13:00:00.000-07:00

It's a flashback
like moments wanting
cigarettes; more sun
coming onto the screen door
more sun coming onto the back
outside. Yes, I do
remember Halloween
in Madison when
I dropped my
phone
and had to deal.
New potential in
that list of songs:
more songs to not be
able to listen to anymore
at some point
and more ways
to understand why
we choose the difficult
story with nothing between
the acts.

stamp this

2008-09-28T15:44:00.000-07:00

no writing

xo,

Queries

2008-09-17T14:08:00.000-07:00

The beach isn't going
to come all by itself,
but the sieves
and the moccasins
and the soda pop
freezers might snare
might lead
to souvenirs from Australia
just as much
as forty
might come by itself.
No, I am not self-sealing.
Yes, maybe Mother Nature
does resemble D.
No, I will not wish
I had written
a poem by Dean Young.
I will acknowledge
that a neighbor I once had
had frogs the size of fingernails
and goats off the roundabout.

Carnivorous

2008-09-16T18:41:00.001-07:00

Mother Nature will bite
your chest and cry
if you're not careful.
Words of advice from
one who spent time
at the arboretum,
at the back of the bus
counting the days
like bridges holding majesty
over safety and rebuilding
and over grinding underneath
El Guayabo via San Francisco
via a man from L.A.

Because You Asked For It

2008-09-11T15:11:00.000-07:00

I am capable of finding myself
in Salt Lake City for a summer sunrise-
smoke washing the sun washing the black
falling somewhere between the people
scurrying across the city and the ones
pulling up for weeks and days..
Inside and in weeks after
there are movies and albums
that make us all call one
another and sing away
the traffic sounds. Why?
is a question and an answer.
8th grade coming back
and plants inside during the rain
and pebble-beach and backs-on-ice
and some Boston harbor
fielding fishing calls and
holding towns and a two-day
camping trip mid-September
and

Forward all mail to the forest
where the park comes to an end
because that's where we'll be,
arms open, tending an almond tree.

Maybe You're a Father Now

2008-09-06T20:46:00.000-07:00

He must be by now.
It's been that long.

--

The difference between
good and bad
is like saying goodbye

it's like ten minutes

it can be something
to do with whether or not
eyes click
or movies pop up.

a company called sunset

2008-09-02T08:57:00.001-07:00

the morning paper nothing's new nothing to regret about this weekend or the days before tell my chest appointment to wait for better timing and then hotel dreams can breath a little more like paint on both our shoes like new tiles and groceries like driving sometimes and things like oslo or crawling

----------
Sent from my Verizon Wireless mobile phone

2008-08-29T08:25:00.001-07:00

I've got a friend trying to keep the birds from falling but he doesn't
call that much anymore but that's ok I've got ten o'clock sundays and
melrose saturdays and midnight rides to no man's land bay and a place
two years ago that will never happen again so it's better that way

Bawl About It

2008-08-24T19:03:00.000-07:00

Shake this.

Shake the songs from her
when she's cycling off
and taking turns off
in front of me.

And kiss the breeze for me
so long as the earth's
still always shaking for me
for the first time.

And eyes like
ours these days
were meant for the morning.
They don't burn
quite so hard
in the morning.

They work better
no glasses
up close
in the morning.

And just then
if it rained
I might even say
there's a god out there
somewhere.

Let's Rinse Off the Patio for Tonight

2008-08-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

When you get a minute
tell me about beginnings
and where it's coming from
and your process of staying...

In a smaller place,
we rode slowly today
and stretched it out.

I gave a card that said
go where I can follow
and allow me to sleep
the early morning away
after you leave.

What Do You know

2008-08-15T10:48:00.000-07:00

About babies falling down.
What do you know about reading.
And the hardest thing about
an early morning might be
not sleeping because of dreaming.
Or not hugging.

Last season I dropped a ball
that now I know wasn't a ball
at all.
And muddled away dinners and
days and forgot how to say that.
It wasn't my fall to save.

The clearest thing
about hot springs
is a smile.
In my eyes it's a smile
because I'm not thinking
about what might happen next.

Stop knowing

2008-08-13T02:11:00.000-07:00

and start asking.
Or maybe stop asking
so that days can go by.

We clean our kitchens
in separate kitchens now
and grab lunch with
her or her or him when
it feels right.

Wipe out the funds
wipe them out
and sweat them out
and field the call
saying when the fuck
you coming? Say I'll
be in the city in late
August and we can ride
together then.. Until then.

Sailing Song Two

2008-08-09T10:11:00.001-07:00

I guess I'm good at living
but no good at knowing
when you'll be in town
or at satisfying hugs
from last year and the one before.

When it comes together for us
now we'll be knee fucking deep
in a patch of slow-movers
and my chest'll be bleeding
flesh and blood and flesh and
blood needing flesh and blood
all over the place, dotted
with Mom's flowers from this season.
That's how the last two got started.

In the summer they've been rampaging
in a quiet way; they mostly stick
to their guns and stick home
and spend Saturdays with mason
jars affixed to the dash and
sun searing cigarettes away.
I'm in love with them
just like that, so don't move away
from the sea of wood and deer and
old cars and rifles out there.

Doing Right

2008-08-06T13:01:00.000-07:00

Had a dream last night
about losing a front tooth
and things just falling
into place.

Maybe it was really about
the movie with darkness
and motorcycles, which could
really be a few movies or more,
or maybe it was about sailing.

Four nights ago
I was stepping bounds
and stopped to help
write a song (take a
sip of wine) and even
took a sip and it
reminded me of the night
seven nights ago:
at home, damn we sang
fuckin damn.
Then two nights ago...
Fuckin hell
we say. It's what I've been saying.

Just don't call me the dog.

give me ten minutes

2008-08-06T11:04:00.000-07:00

to think about pumpkins

----------
Sent from my Verizon Wireless mobile phone

2008-08-03T12:55:00.001-07:00

I can't remember who I was
when I said I'm your man.

An Anniversary and a Celebration

2008-07-20T11:57:00.000-07:00

I wrote this poem, with exception of a few revisions, almost exactly a year ago.

Shifting Decks

Leaving is many parts:
meeting new people
and the feeling of time lost
and “Don’t hug me for more
than ten seconds” because I’ll cry
(and in front of all these people at that)
and then also thanks so
much for that for allowing me
to spill myself onto your shoulder.

Heavy July and food on the grill
during the evening affair and then hummingbirds
at my Mom’s house
but wait, that’s skipping parts
and steps ahead and askew, but that’s leaving.

How places can be very similar
and how one of my first poems was
“When the Hummingbird’s Hum
Ceases to Hum” about death
in a sort of Keatsian manner
and how funny that is.

It's deck conversations and realizing
what months
can be
and airing jeans
on the line and snapping photos of them to get
a laugh
and cats that seem immortal.

Slow days talking
about new friends to old friends
and discovering role models
and then discovering new ones.

Poems coming together on the road..
One of them was
title “I Was Almost Crying Forty Miles Ago
and Pulled Off the Road
to Write This
Especially for Earl and Phill”
body “I
love
you.”
but we all know
that’s not a poem.

Finding connections before
departures realizing missed
opportunities
it’s casting lines out and breathing
and camping overnight somewhere strange.

Feeling joy for buying baby food
for my little nephew
and on top of that
it’s “I’ll see you again”s
that are both sincere and not.

And a stick-shift in my hand
and great smells seen
but hidden by goodbye cigarettes,
even a walk in the woods I grew up in
and even showing my dad a poem.

And it’s going to keep
happening and it’s coming true
and yes, it could be.

And if nothing else,
it’s lots of hugs and taking chances.

Kissing vulnerability on the cheek,
backing away with a little wink.

Not Quite A World Away

2008-07-18T10:43:00.000-07:00

And not much has changed
after a week or two of
thinking I deserve this.
All of this.

And not much has changed
except so many things put
so damn close together out here
and someone's dancing
with a new face
and I'm finally walking
down the street alone
when I should
and walking away when I should.

I'll be steering away
from the sun today
and after a hard last night's
rest on the porch floor
I'll be daydreaming
into close-proximity smiles
and trying to avoid
being lured into wondering what happened.

Desculpeme?

2008-07-02T19:37:00.000-07:00

I've missed you these weeks,
he said to me,
and I said,
yeah, we are more to ourselves
when we're free
than we might sometimes admit.

I've stopped saying cheers
in poems because it stopped
sounding special, but I've realized
you can make just about anyone
feel special by looking them
in the eye and asking about the day.

I've attempted to stop holding
friends to rigorous standards,
despite what I might have said
after a drink or two.

Tonight let's keep it simple
and not talk about
the last few months
or where we're from. Let's not
talk about late nights last week
or your theories on where I'm at.
Let's watch the mopeds spark
as they just miss garbage cans
and the neighbors come out to wonder.

Neck and neck

2008-06-29T19:48:00.000-07:00

Tell her she knows where
to find me. That much
hasn't changed.

Say that Grandpa Augie
is still in his heart
and he still wears the shirt
Grandma gave him.

Describe the simplicity
of grabbing a burger all alone
and the families all looming
about, sometimes glancing,
sort of thinking
why is he here.
The little kids thinking.

And maybe no one's asking
and everyone will find a name
for this summer to be the best
and all the winding, wining,
and weekday mornings
will reach a clean solution.

Prospective Boxes

2008-06-25T17:35:00.000-07:00

Shaken loose from our stirrups,
we're devoting our perceptions
to the wide-open signs
occurring all around:
a found photo carrying more
and habits gaining serious momentum,
along with songs
gathering immensity
from the gap that's trying
to move the minutes.

Small words are doing big things
and big things like a near-serious
moto incident are sliding past like they
were meant to be.

I wanted a friend to say
"It's a bad week for things to happen,"
but no one did so instead
I found a friend who made me laugh
out of nowhere and so the three
of us sat there in the approaching summer
afternoon in the quaintness of being
lodged in the midst and we just let it out.

June Night

2008-06-21T21:32:00.000-07:00

Everyone's talking about the heat
but a month from now we'll
be talking about how good it was
how it was great while it lasted
like Malibu Thursdays and who knows
what to say to that.

My misgivings have left us burned
and the momentum of that has
been enough to carry lunches
and provide enough lucidity for
vague notions of powerful things
to be brought up and twinkled, but
not quite carried through.

The summer storms back home
must be starting about now.

Vacate, we said. Vacation

2008-06-17T15:25:00.000-07:00

Many are dead and dying
and some are starting families;
that's the atmosphere. That's the context
for how we can rationalize decisions
like smoking away the afternoons:
blubbing about rural this
and the rolling yellows pecked about
with cardinals.

I'll even close my eyes to that,
and even a man who doesn't much
take to the sun can understand
the appeal of sand in the toes.

Well, well, well...
I read a poem about salvation
and another one about uncertainty
and that one was also about
the timing of shaking hands.
More importantly, I'm deciding
whether or not you can read a man
by if or how he eats a burger.

Our trajectories have been fueled
and postponed by those gritty old tunes
and somehow someone has made the time
to live bi-coastally when someone else
is trapped at home out in the woods
or stalled out back in the shop.

Get back when you have a moment,
call me back
call me back
and call me out
I'll run from them back into your arms.

Cold Spring Trail

2008-06-11T15:06:00.000-07:00

This used to be a hell of a country
rattled off the set.

Now it's just tumbling
over itself, but there's nothing
a good haircut can't hide.

And I expected one day,
wafting through a Wednesday
morning, I expected the sight
of someone so soft and subtle
and clothes out of time and
a glimpse of something
on the wrist suggesting ease
as I expect to be going about
my day, trying to look
comfortable in the heat.

Then, months earlier
and more in the present sense,
I expected not to understand,
but when he asked me Who
wants to lie
disinterred
like a city under smog?
I thought (another coffee),
That is me
(that is us).
I thought
That might be us.

There are no senses in these beginnings
because I bought an orchid
from $5 man, who made it from Los
Angeles to San Francisco on a scooter.
Twice, he said, twice.
And maybe the orchid was stolen,
but no one talks
about these formative years
or the shifting, evasive
notion of nostalgia and fear in used to.

Only Leather Could Withstand

2008-06-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

What I didn't see was God.
What there was out there
were some good corners
and intimations of the sublime
as cars that spread the lane before me
and a lingering image of R.C. Bates
(the relic and poet) and
I sang a Merle Haggard song
to myself as ripples of what do I do
spread, shackling my speeds.
And my fortune read
you will soon gain something
you have always wanted.

It's Not If It's When

2008-06-03T11:00:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting for disasters
I've noticed. All my life.
It started back in High School
when I thought If
I was dying it'd give me
an excuse to make my way
out to the middle of Colorado
to fish and live in the springs
or if my parents died or something worse
everyone would say
it's ok.. it's the hardship.

Now I've been waiting for an excuse
to tear myself apart again
and smoke myself to sleep
in the morning.

I've been more and more curious
about how it would feel
for something really bad
to happen and that's a bad sign.

Been reading poetry that somehow
got published from men who felt
banned by the rest and feeling
what the hell and identify
is a word that might fit
and also alienation to see my thoughts on
another's page before my eyes
and back to the songs that hurt.

Soothing, Wheezing Stomps

2008-05-28T10:42:00.000-07:00

Ahh! You promised me songs.
Songs about heartbreaks; you said
I hope that I don't fall
in love with you and it nestled into my trumpet
and then it's slipping through the front door.

Searing heavily down our roads,
our afternoons have been influenced by those songs
and the arms around faint shoulders
and the kisses happening right there
at the five o'clock hour.

It's been off at times.
I've been off in the country
and the dilemma of how calm
one can be is like a cigarette addiction.

But then when we need laughs
(we need laughs!)
or particularly love the growl
of love pains (Adam bound us, more or less)
we stand round
clapping and stomping all around.

The Stable Climate

2008-05-23T08:30:00.000-07:00

Until next time
we say
more tattoos next time
we say.

Ambiguous allusions aside,
this gloomy weather
is straight fucking crisp
and refreshing.

On Their Fingers

2008-05-21T10:49:00.000-07:00

I guess we could say
who would have thought
the weeks would unbind
the snakes in our hands.
On the beach/no it was
around the lake/he said
he'd never take back Eugene
or Buffalo/pass the smoke.
The summer went valuably:
he smoked himself sick
and so did I and he took
my girl for a few days
but by that time it didn't matter.
I would perhaps have thought
how can we get away with this?
How can we meet on King Street
and talk about the lake
and sit atop buildings getting high
talking about heroin,
talking the Guten tag!
haven't spoken to you
in so long! ..are you doing..
Leave it on the wall and he'll get it.
For times like these we have campfires
and motorcycle rides to the coast.

Porch-side Hummings

2008-05-17T19:12:00.000-07:00

Stranger than any paradise
I've ever known of;
more otherworldly than
pounding skin to skin
and as unlikely as following
Santa Susanna Pass all the way.

This is an evening that breeds
photographs worth holding onto
and harmonica serenades
from a country man
just letting her go.

Screen doors whistling off
and hands up into the hair
as men and women just
let it off.

*STRANGER THAN PARADISE is a film by Jim Jarmusch which I was partially considering when that first line came out.

Crown This

2008-05-14T13:14:00.000-07:00

I used to have this
I used to have that
I used to drink gems
and pocket my smokes
up the stairs
and oh do I miss it
oh do I.

and I support true love
my friend, she said.

and Damn, we say.
Sometimes we say
Hey brother this is livin'
and toast and watch the sun
but we're really just
taking it in
and trying to fit the bill.

and usually it passes, but
This is real hard livin'
occasionally we feel
but even then, trembling,
even colossal hands in the air
she says that's where
I get the good stuff.

Cigarettes Down the Lane

2008-05-09T14:30:00.000-07:00

When the rain's calming down
on a weekday afternoon
the stuff inside is a cushion
and the blasting attraction
of tasks outside and things
piling up
lets up.

The decisions we're making now
the slidings past and heads down
are what all have done more or less.
From the hours spent in line
to the dollars spent
just in cases
and all the things grinding us down
are just like a child picking up the phone
to father's old friend saying
no he doesn't live here anymore
and Mom covering her face back
in the kitchen corner
no he doesn't live here anymore.

Today's Monday Shines

2008-05-06T11:00:00.000-07:00

Thanks at last
I said
to myself,
tripping against a parking sign.

A wave to the people as
a fond gesture for the times:
dancing, smoking, and driving.

Advice to go

Advice on the go

Heavy-scented last-minute pauses
at last,
dark, distorted minutes,
and emphasis in the departure.

Something worked;
it's still there
in the morning.

Monday,
Monday.

Trimming scared
and trimming, angry,
is what we're all up to
and avoiding that which
a friend might notice,
and avoiding them.

Here Are Four Days

2008-05-03T12:55:00.000-07:00

Allow yourself the freedom of pursuit.

Settle up with the aspiring young
people that line the strip
as they detail their smiles and indicate
through slipping heels and bad steps
the strains of being born into this.

Days later flashes of sunspots
and of projects in the ranges
of people finding ties
and backyard afternoons
attempting to align
a vow to express caution
for the injuries to come.

*BORN INTO THIS is a Charles Bukowski poem and also the name of a documentary about his life. The "settle up" stanza speaks to Bukowski's Hollywood.

May Showers

2008-05-02T13:51:00.000-07:00

My sister's month reminds me of where I used to go to feel at home.

Cordiality

2008-04-29T15:01:00.000-07:00

There's no special reason
to write today.
Nothing exciting to write about.

Just a day off from work
I didn't get up early
I woke up with a cat
on my stomach and got coffee
and shook some hands
and talked about coffee
and shook some more hands
and talked about the weather
and the heat and the weekend
and then rode off racing down the street
and marveled the Hyperion hills
or Silver Lake hills or whatever
and heard about a friend's good
news and talked about love
and drank water and talked about
relationships how do you know
if it's you or the other person or
just the essence of relationships
don't know me either, but on to
the hypocrisy of parents
and the merits of gambling.
Again, nothing special
to write
about.

Then someone backed into my scooter
and yelled about
my parking space this
my parking space that
I thought
I could say fuck you
but it wouldn't be worth it
so I made sure my scooter
would ride and said
lady it's okay move on
and finished the cup of water
I'd been drinking
and shook some more hands.
Oh I forgot to mention
I looked at sunglasses.
Oh well
nothing special.

Summer Hats

2008-04-28T14:45:00.000-07:00

Forecasting the week to be fatiguing...

Come home, Friday.
Come back days
when excitement ran rampant
on a good Friday.

Maintain an august face
and settle in to watch the evening
as hometown conversation
transpires to tattoos.

Partial epiphanies in the desert;
we're all at war with our
partial, evasive epiphanies
during the succeeding days.

Fatigued Orchards

2008-04-22T12:16:00.000-07:00

In a mess of just in cases
they concede and are on the go.
Nevermind the walks
to get to know the neighborhood.

The muffled
I wishes and widening gaps
between aspirations and real things
have led the youth to sit dumbfounded
at the sidewalk in front of the cafe.
They are small and weak and half
naked.

The more things that can be said
personally the better.

Points of Origin

2008-04-21T11:17:00.000-07:00

Losing ground like being scared
of people who travel too much.
Who are they going from?

or to? even though I suppose
I do the same.

Lost paperwork that someone said
was important, so points
of origin
will reveal themselves
at the bakery, at the damnedest of times.

I grew up an orphan:
my sister out back losing her mind.
I grew up at the side of the road
early one morning.
All that matters
sometimes
is a drink.

Out in the sun all that matters
is a good handshake and sunglasses
to keep the moment, to maintain
a dance, to include someone.

Supple time in the trees
leads to swaying
embraces and vigor
and days later,
a last smell of the fireside sweatshirt
before washing the ash away.

Creasing the Noon Hour

2008-04-17T15:23:00.000-07:00

Spring breaks into the bones.

Like our first trip to Florida
when Coke was clear.

Seeing those palm trees
was like a great night's rest
when we first pulled in.

Today my tired eyes and tired fingers
are agreeing with the rest of me

in wanting nothing more.

Take the Few Hours

2008-04-15T16:35:00.001-07:00

Take the ones you need
and gloss the night away.

Spend a lunch reworking the views
and squeeze a lime to let it

clarify where it needs to fit in
and trickle into the streets.

Spring Promises

2008-04-11T11:20:00.000-07:00

There's a tank that I'll haul
to prove to the years
and to excite a calm embrace.

Together for us summer will come.
My ruby-throated arm will burst and bow.

I heard a Southern accent
in my tones last night so
things are slowing down.

See us in the wind.
See us eyes closed
with a basket in the wind.

© 2008, Jared Linzmeier

A Chair That Stays Still

2008-04-10T15:44:00.000-07:00

Some days worth is judged in the hands.

Hands wrapped together on the forehead

and hair thoroughly gone through.

It's in the need to rest and the amount of hurt.

Pocket the sunglasses and cast off a button.

© 2008, Jared Linzmeier

Barely Then Hands Out

2008-04-05T19:27:00.000-07:00

Is that an image meant to conjure
a frosty train window twinkling years gone by

or are you just happy to see me?

Your eyelids look different this season
now they're red like they were last fall.

Is that how much a back can hurt
stretches out on the wood floor out back

or are you watching me let go?

I've been simmered and sad and behaved
and hearing the fiery songs these summer-like days.

© 2008, Jared Linzmeier

All Awashing Station

2008-04-04T16:04:00.000-07:00

The loose afternoon wills
that we recommend a day off

boogie til your boots break in,
but don't call in sick.

My breakfast ritual tasted
at least five years older today.

Waiting for Convenience

2008-04-01T15:14:00.000-07:00

I'm avoiding the Lincoln Park office with
all my might that's for sure

and swinging down the street
singing stone blind love.

Bixel Street screamed go Dodgers in the scheme
and together it's broken dark pints

dearly akin to soccer potential
footballing royal blues.

The kids are back from Austin
glassy and fatigued: new breathing exercises

maybe they'll be ready for park fires
maybe they're dancing to the movies

maybe they'll remember garbage day now
or will burn from the ready gods at our heals out here.*

No one knows how to throw a punch anymore.

© 2008, Jared Linzmeier

*This line inspired by the poem "Los Angeles" by Charles Bukowski

He's Walking All Over

2008-03-29T01:25:00.000-07:00

(clicking pictures will download them)

Don't believe him

mind the Easter basket.

Thanks, Mom.

A Country Song in Summer

2008-03-27T15:13:00.000-07:00

The wind was tractor sounds,
and the bales.

Bales of hay drew us in
and rabbits became our prey.

Fateful afternoons spent
drawing hair to our cheeks
taking up razor blades and aftershave
from an old wooden armoire.

Ruby's coming down so get the kids away.

Once the pine trees gave me courage
enough to launch an arrow into the house
and the bees took it right up.

Corn for dinner and peas out back if you want them.

We're having corn for dinner
it's so hot got to keep it moving

A generator next door
lighting up the evening
and crickets in the garden.

Water in the air over the road
but it was dry, dry, dry.

I'd say wait for me tonight
let's all go down to the lake.

Those potatoes helped me sleep.

We kept a pond with frogs
and suffered loss through Breezy-May.

Her filly couldn't make it through
that summer.

© 2008, Jared Linzmeier

Glad

2008-03-26T14:19:00.000-07:00

Saw Glasser the other night. I really enjoy her song, 'glad.' The next day at work I saw Matt from FOREIGN BORN (who also plays in a variety of bands, including Cameron's GLASSER) and introduced myself, exchanged a few hellos cools. He's a nice guy. Since then it's been a day or two of things going very well, sleeping in, food food food, coffee per usual, truck sales, Tattiya's brother George and his companion Monica visiting from S.F., paperwork... T.C.B. tcb

A Week Is What It Takes

2008-03-24T00:16:00.000-07:00

They'll challenge his manhood
they'll flex
and even when the walks
to achieve movie status
are fragrantly full

even something like a bow
can only partially suffice
to capture the quaint starkness
of a shaved cheek
or the slushy washfulness
of summertimes sneaking out

some young notions
of how good growing can be.

Paletted across the push
of cash-in-hand
and talks down
talks meant to challenge
and slurs let loose,

even at the dinner table
even dancing away from
slubby tiptoes in the months,

humble hands one behind
the back the other and a neck
somberly down are achievements

achievements at changing
a marked number of things
and marking the success
one man or one woman
may pull in simply doing
what they do.

© 2008, Jared Linzmeier

Good Friday means wine, cheese, art, scooters, moped-crash delicious vegan tacos oh my oh my

2008-03-22T01:03:00.000-07:00

Some good nights are made nearly fantastic by some bad or odd things.

oh my

Happy Foot

2008-03-20T15:12:00.000-07:00

Got it on my way back today. That bodes well. Nice precursor to kitty-loaves at home and indicative of finding a coffee table.

Another lunch at Soy Cafe the other day with the hills and the water and discussions of what it is to be a man.

I'll be seeing you..

I'm going to Barnsdall

2008-03-19T11:56:00.000-07:00

to seize the hour.

(a you-are-here.com photo)

Savory savory savory

2008-03-17T18:39:00.000-07:00

sunlight.

Savory sunlight up the Cahuenga pass and back once over. Great food, friend's family, mediocre movies, scooting somewhat illegally, savory bloody marys on the other side.

Silver Lake Reservoir is drained.

My cheeks turned red and I jumped higher off the ground than I have in months.

Now my trumpeted lips are waiting for an arm and waiting for an arm-in-arm walk to dinner.

They Used To Carry Along

2008-03-14T23:29:00.001-07:00

and engage with their hands

and actually walk.

and nod a drabby hat in earnest.

We followed along late one night

and scattered back to curtsies and wooden signs.

I slipped on the barbed wire,

but we made it out fine.

These days

2008-03-12T18:14:00.000-07:00

of sunlight are nice and clean. It's a nice week for days to unfold. Watch out for summer days of soy cafes and elitists roaming the alleys.

tjk

213

2008-03-08T18:16:00.001-08:00

is my new area code. next up is an 'l.a.' tat. bye, 715.

excerpt from a poem i'm working on:

2008-03-06T12:22:00.000-08:00

From a portion temporarily called 'Ruby'

Don't let Ruby fall into the reds and browns
so it goes
don't let her fall down

tell her to expect flowers this July
and a nice brunch

Ruby oh the farm,
ruby kept the kids sneezing,
red and sweaty and itchy in the sun.
Ring the bell! Race to ring the bell!

Hold out through the winter.
There's no cattle left
no calves to suck
but Augie's hats are still
collected by the washer
and it's still a big house, Ruby.

Remember them together when you're down.
There was a month or two of kids
one summer
and they fought with wood and pool cues
built a fort of the yard,
made it a maze to solve,
and ran water when they shouldn't
they played games that shouldn't
be called games,
but they slept above you safely.

Enjoy your afternoon tea now, Ruby,
and wait for flowers in July.

© 2008, Jared Linzmeier

what a funny place

2008-03-05T22:31:00.000-08:00

as of monday, mexico is only allowing importation of u.s. vehicles made in 1998. and more, they're calling the 1998 ford f150 'mexico's most sought-after vehicle.' i guess it's convenient that i'm selling now. ny times'll tell you.

i walk the line

2008-03-04T22:21:00.000-08:00

and it feels great.

tasty

2008-03-04T22:18:00.000-08:00

tasty espresso today at choke. photo tonx.org

good way to spend a day off. coffee, motorcycles..

i've been sick

2008-03-01T13:37:00.000-08:00

for the past four days or so. bad sore throat. no good.

my truck is for sale. i'm hoping to replace it with something like the motorcycle above.

here! here! for hoping my throat will ease itself and that i'll be a motorcycle man soon.

enjoy the sprinkles today.

love these

2008-02-24T19:15:00.001-08:00

the top one is tattiya in kreuzberg.

the middle one is my nephew baraka.

the bottom one is a collage of some of my polaroids from berlin.

bonus points

2008-02-24T18:32:00.000-08:00

we rode the scooter through the rain to discover something quite unexpected:

they are very bright and childlike (in a good way)

i met trevor of cocaine mule. nice guy. you can buy his bags online and see some prototypes at unitard.

energy energy energy

2008-02-21T18:59:00.000-08:00

today i finished an energy survey study for, in part, margot jacobs and realized that i don't even know what 'what types of electricity do you use throughout your day' means. oops. static? thermal? are those 'energies' or 'electricities'? my diagram of what energy means to me is a giant hooded monster with freeways for legs plugged into the ongoing circle of energy around us. FUN.

being

2008-02-20T13:45:00.000-08:00

so close to work is beautiful.

i'm reading the wasteland again. it's also beautiful.

stop in for a coffee.

anyone have a desk chair, bookshelf, or coffee table he/she wants to rid themselves of?

high fives for things working out

2008-02-16T11:36:00.000-08:00

congrats to sugar hair salon on a great turnout last night to celebrate the last night of their first art exibit.

congrats to greg for being an awesome boyfriend for you know what.

thanks to david for helping us move a new couch in.

thanks to katie for the free couch.

thanks to michelle for being awesome and thanks to margot for being magicalness and thanks to neal for the email.

i could go on.

happy saturday.

back up a few days

2008-02-15T00:37:00.001-08:00

and this is what intelligentsia looked like

photo tonx.org

but now it's better and we just have big plexiglass things.

weekends like that are worth losing sleep over

2008-02-11T10:00:00.000-08:00

began with midnightridazzzz

phill visited, we had korean bbq
in a friend's backyard

, tattiya and i went to the opera (tristan and isolde) with michelle, ethiopian food.. amazing.

monday=getting turned around on my way to a haircut, taking me through elysian park. beautifully random. haircut! then coffee and new book (terrance hayes's WIND IN A BOX rocks my fucking socks) from skylight, soon to be my new spot, getting even more super-stoked on moving to los feliz. oh, and we removed the silly blue things from around our espresso machines at intelligentsia so life there is somewhat improved. submitted some poems. went to sleep early cause had to work at 5am on tuesday.

tuesday=tiring start. gorgeous day though. upon arriving to work was pleasantly surprised with my two copies of issue 1 of margins mag including my poem "spoke cards." made me feel good. stopped at orange 20 to talk with kyle about coffee and bikes. came home to tattiya home early cause she's working early all week on a new project. nap time! wrote a poem to go with our diorama for diorama club2k8. strolled sunset between lavetta and park/glendale looking at the other pieces. awesome.

no joke

2008-02-07T18:38:00.000-08:00

we've got these absurd blue things engulfing our synesso espresso machines at intelligentsia. they're absurd and trying to work behind them while taking orders and interacting with customers is also quite absurd. luckily, they are only a temporary solution to a health-code violation and we'll be freed from them sometime soon. that's all for now. oh, and this weekend we're going to the opera. !! hearts,

I've come so far

2008-02-06T11:41:00.000-08:00

from writing drunken poems about a bleakness

from watching
and re-watching
movies where characters escape
to the wilderness
-basics like the smell of things charred-
and from calling out
for help with little things
-hints that can't be held-
from almost sleeping
through classes (engagement)

so far from wishing for years to pass

so that I might become who I want to be.

© 2008, Jared Linzmeier

late, and with tangled hair

2008-02-05T23:22:00.000-08:00

Days spent
out here in the cold

people drowning out
the wooden walls of smirks

passing by as the days hush
to themselves, filming cheeks in the rain.

There's an urgency in the way
I tried to interrupt you.

There's an urgency because I
had to apologize for thinking
you were mocking me

when in truth you were just
mirroring back what I'd said
without confidence

shining light on a mode of friendship
employing this loftiness of heart this lightness.

I'm realizing now as you sleep
that it must sound crazy
for me to talk about loving exhausting
to the bottoms getting to the underneaths
the ways of things

when I'm leaving you with partials
trickled I don't knows

It's taken me this long
it's taken me to see that

the length it's taken
is six beers
or so
and a spliff
and now waking in the middle of the night,
parched and thirsty
(having dreamt of water thirst)
to sit now on the floor

in the only light coming
from the neighbor's window
and the two sounds
are your light
snoring and the rumble of the S-bahn

and I understand a suspension in the Berlin morning.

© 2008, Jared Linzmeier

a shave

2008-02-04T14:55:00.001-08:00

for the first time in a year or more. and i'm feeling fresh.

so where we're at:

tattiya and i just got back from berlin and

it was awesome.

now i'm sorting through many, many poetic fragments and will be posting some soon.

on feb. 15 we begin moving to our new apartment in los feliz. also awesome.