showboat

(song)

it may seem cliche
but i think i'm great
i climb trees well into my twenties
i have a healthy obsession with bees
i aspire to be grand in a meaningful way
to build a vocabulary with words like anathema and vitiate
i eat cereal out of cups
i read dawkins and millay
i may prefer to go dancing
but i understand when you say
not tonight, my love, not tonight
i can almost hold a handstand, i can almost do the splits
i can list a hundred hot keys
and don't care if you watch pornography

so when you say you don't love me, why isn't it harder to understand?
why do i feel like it doesn't matter i'm a great girlfriend?

because i can be pensive and brood
my expositions can come out crude
because i can forget how to relax
and i make you scratch my back

but mostly i won't try to breach your heart's moat
to knock on your door and beg and showboat
because you can't choose who you love and who you don't

yams

they say a person can get all their required nutrition from just one plant: the yam. quite a romantic notion, but the simplicity of it is unavoidably attractive. you don't have to worry about what vitamins your broccoli is lacking, what minerals your black beans are missing. It's all right there in the pure, picaresque yam. but of course, after a long stretch of such routine, you will have to admit that eating only one root vegetable for every meal is boring. eventually you'll come to resent the yam for the very same simplicity that initially appealed to you. its sweetness becomes saccharine, its limited range of textures a disappointment. it's not that you want more, you just want different. you become upset that the yam doesn't taste like broccoli every once in awhile. why can't it be more like a blueberry sometimes? It's really not fair to the yam, which has so much to offer. It's not the yam's fault you put so much pressure on it to provide everything you need. in fact, the yam would probably appreciate a break from being eaten all the time! Sometimes it just wants to be left alone in the cool underground! the pleasure and appreciation inherent in some of the time is an idiomatic expression lost to the monotony of all of the time.

new york march 2010

Pigeons are brown
Street vendors take inventory
Money exchanges hands
Tiffanys across the way
BMW at wall st and pearl
Published poet shares his poems
Pre-order intermission drinks

on turning 25

god i feel hot. i am so sexy, i am sex. i am twenty-five and nothing can touch me, for the next ten years at LEAST. (haha?) this has to be the epitome of existence. this is the most epitomous age. at twenty-five i am still young, so young; my bad habits haven't yet made their mark; my good habits haven't yet proven their worth; i'm still experimenting with both. i am still being carded. being twenty-five is much more than becoming one year older. being twenty-five is a graduation into a new age bracket – the late twenties, 25-30, a fucking era. it has a distinct cultural flavor. in our late twenties we prove ourselves; we shrug, sweep up the accumulation of skills and accomplishments, the string of jobs, of hobbies, of lovers, and leap into an identity, and we're not expected to look back. we are the ones to shape the zeitgeist.