The gloom of the newspaper room
"You know you can set fire to the capacity to say." -Neil Gaiman

This is exactly what we were dreading:
Tonight, a river, the columns and columns.
I push this word to the right, you reconsider.
Press it into paper, clarify, let it die soundless.

In other words you are without wandering,
You know your needle and your path of contact.
Let the detectives line up in the streets for their meager
food of words; you have had your hunger.

And it looks gray, and it looks black and white,
and it's over for tonight.

posted by Adam at 10:15 PM [edit]

On a day when a car hit me on my bicycle but I wasn't hurt

Modesty is only an apple: you know you're
beautiful, why not just say it?

A car hit me and more than anything it just surprised me.
Standing in the middle of an intersection, looking at my knee,
blocking traffic but not quite able to move yet.

Hate the music. It makes you wonderful. And your pajamas
are flaked with something golden.

All the traffic lights in Texas are playing color games for you.
They confused traffic and left us all waiting, left me with skinned knees.
I had a walk sign. She went anyway.

All the blood I bled didn't stain my clothes. So where did it go?
Into the pavement of Texas? The washing machine? Missing you?
posted by Adam at 12:00 AM [edit]