it's a fire, a fire i cannot put out

07.02 UK/23.02 SF

'Five o’clock and a fire escape symphony
Spilling out across the road and the square
And the sky’s the same as your own, do you think of me?
Do the parks and trees and the leaves reach you there?
After the rain, in the lonely hours he* haunts me....
Calling out, again, and again....
Sophia, Sophia, I’m burning, I’m burning
It’s a fire, a fire I cannot put out.
Sophia, Sophia, I’m learning that some things
I can’t go without
And one of those is him*.'
*she/her


- nerina pallot sophia



somebody that is willing to fly 3000 miles is somebody i can't go without. you're a fire i've not been able to put out since we first met. thank you for everything; the mornings, the evenings, the naps, the baths, holding my hand when it gets too much, catching my breath, tracing my lifeline, playing your guitar, not giving up.



your poem is in construction, dartmouth.



-e.w.

prince hamlet of his hexagram

08.46 UK/00.46 SF

"San Francisco itself is art, above all literary art. Every block is a short story, every hill a novel. Every home a poem, every dweller within immortal. That is the whole truth."
- W.Sarovan

does anybody wanna be anything out of the ordinary? asks the instructor, the smartest kid in class who comes to school drunk raises his hand and says





'yes sir, i'd like to be a dollar.'

- bob dylan tarantula



prince hamlet walks his st bernard shakespeare
every morning at 6
along the waves,the foamy sour milk left in cartons
and tipped out on sunday mornings,
the charcoal sand itching between his toes
and his the temporary lion that roars on his foot.
aslan speaks his secret language not buildings of hexagrams
or rhombus or fuel injected refridgerators
but the size of dimes in his hands,
the flavour of his fathers cologne on his tongue,
the scent of fresh camera film,
the ghosts no one else speaks.
he calls his beautiful beast shakespeare,watching him dance
in the grass on the dunes - his old amigo
silently faithful. he is the view from the other side.
on nights in julie's room, he recalls nothing.
on mornings infront of the vast expanse, it whispers everything.
as he turns his back to the sea,the green bill flutters under a stone
'i am sick of heroic sorrow'

and he remembers, in composition, he once wanted to be a dollar.


-e.w.

I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul

07.49 UK/11.49 SF - 20.8.09

kid you'll move mountains carrie necklace chester the chicken 3000 miles one year/two year/three year four fuck up fuck wit oceans of tears in empty chow mein packages trains stations hearts soldiers you inspire me sAm butterflies nondescript swoops i am a pirate i am sailing the seventh sea ////

sAn frAncisco.

DEPARTMENT OF US HOMELAND SECURITY; welcome to America!

one year hiatus and rediscovery of the other side. redisinvention of self. a) lose gf. b) heart broken c) six month journey d) Sam MacIntosh is online e) acquire heart again f) full heart, chest swell. face flush. hangon: i think its l/o/v/e.

Doctor, we have a pulse. beat beat beat a first on your essay - three hurrahs for Garland all hope is not lost about writing despite dismal marks on poetry. subjectivity. objectivity. tivity. vity. ity. ty.

and now HERE! the land of dreams,burgers,marilyn,theking,thelateMJ,macys/bloomies/saks,seals,harveymilk,castro. the land of crooked streets and crooked hearts. steep hills and steep aspirations. i am full of anticipation, but how do i know where it starts?

i am back blogging

older,wiser(onehopes),rounder,unmended,unpicked,mended,repicked,freshunfreshraw.


'your mountain is waiting.'....im on my way.///

-e.w.