Christmas Creek
We walked on water at the tunnel
Looking for cranes
Trees whispering on the other side
Our foot steps tread so carefully
On the other side
On Christmas Creek
How still the soybean field
Felt unreal, how the air breathed
Cold and paved us home
On the other side of wide white wings
On the sheet of ice groaning under our feet
I listened with you to the trees whispering
On the other side
On Christmas Creek
Chicago
I think ghosts are just
Patterns imprinted on the walls and
Mirrors. Young puppy imprinted on
The two-lane on 54;
Asleep on Tom’s cold, hard floor;
A tractor three stories tall;
We went north to the funeral
His hair was clipped short, bleached
Blonde, a narcissist like me. I saw
Myself in The Bowling Alley, so
Lost in the party when I
Told Rob I wanted to die
I don’t tell anybody anymore.
I peeped the keyhole of
The door you can never close, and
Only then I realized how fleeting, how
Each stroke permanent yet the following changing
Life seems more like a painting
It was Michigan, wasn’t it?
We took 54E, then 55N.
I drove the bigger part, but one time, I read
A song of ice and fire; or, maybe,
We lost control on 55S, pinned by the
Semi in the snow.
I came here alone to the bar.
There was Wrigley Stadium and
My friend with the blonde hair.
The room’s haunted, I swear I felt
Hatred in the mirror. I crushed a
PBR on my skull half-full in the mirror.
I played four chords in the mirror
Back and forth forever
I came here alone and
Unarmed. I left the whiskey on the bar
Waved to the woman in the mesh top and
Curly hair; but
I don’t think she could see me there
Could hardly fake a smile
“Mama mia, mama mia,”
“Mama mia let me go”
I don’t belong anywhere.
“In the night, we’ll wish this never ends”
It’s gonna be this year, I know it
“I miss you. I miss you.”
I miss you, too.
It’s the same karaoke bar, but
You’re not here, and
No one’s singing Jet, and
I already had a Red Bull at G-Man’s, and
My heart could burst right out my chest
It’s colder by Lake Michigan; not by
Degrees, but by its daggers like razors-
(Not even if I tried…).
It was a beautiful dream, all the
Children of Summer criss-crossing the vacant
Gridlock in June. A beautiful dream,
A life frozen in time,
At the top of the hill at the edge of downtown
“Mysterious as the dark side of the moon”
I’ll go to bed alone.
Well, not completely alone. I’ve got
The dancing, screaming patterns I saw
Peeking through the door. I left the TV on to
Drown them out, but they found me in
The mirror again. I will never rest as deep
As Anna remembered again.
How purple light settles
The uncanny valley. Popped heads and
Pop art. “All that glitters is gold”
I guess the CTA shuts off eventually
Jerked out of the nightmare
By a knock at the door
Jerked out of a nightmare
Following me everywhere
So, there, it’s done
The punk bars with their broken toilets;
The karaoke bars filled with Queen and college kids;
The people sleeping on the train-
It really is the same no matter
Where you run.
I took a deep breath at the sight of
Skyline. Still in awe, every time, at the
Shadowy boxes on the dusky horizon
Just faster now.
Stoned in a Glass House
I looked down Broadway and Sixth
Lined with fungus
All the way to campus
Can you hear us?
It fell like an ember
A few weeks after Christmas
Burnt up, last of it.
Fell like a skyscraper
Felt like
Fire. Hands of fire
Putting out fire
Fell into Lake Michigan
Sound inverse, skyscrapers’
Roots, programmed in reflection
Couldn’t look again
At the bar again
At McNally’s again
I swear to God
My body in the speaker,
Writhing in reverb
Unsure of their intention
I drop my shoulders
I forgot a pen
I drop my shoulders
Attention, attention,
I have a bag and a scarf and
A journal with no pen
If I stay long enough,
Something always happens
Down Sixth, to campus,
A thousand separate instances
Now beneath the glass floor.
A Red Bull, Soda Water, Basket of Fries
How strange, all of their thoughts
They make such a racket
Both overstimulated but
Seeking attention
Thanks for the pen
Something always happens
I made it The ‘59 Sound again
Hands of fire, putting out fire
My unlimited capacity
To heal and hurt
“Ain’t supposed to die…”
THERE’s the second guitar
Seeking attention, seeking
Rejection, seeking justification,
“That’s just ridiculously… on”
Feeling half normal and hate it
Drop the shoulders. There’s that
Posture squared up, ready to
Fight again.
Gotta fuck it up all perfect
Might have noticed my
Retractable claws
I know what must be done
I just want to be safe again,
Vegetated on a SVU binge. Haven’t felt
Part of a damn thing that lasts
Since I guess forever
Closed my eyes and dreamt of flowers
Dreamt of you snuggled in my lap
I love you all of the time
I, your roots, programmed in reflection
In waking waters of Lake Michigan
I saw the ceiling in the living room
I saw the ceiling when I launched you
Up so high, from the pool floor, saw
The ceiling, glass, under my hands and knees
Nothing now will grow for me except you
I tossed your mother’s valentine,
Dead for some time, a poignant reminder and
Parable
Last call
Juke box’s last juke
Gian's Art Dump 