over two decades in the making.
a timeshifting autobiographical poetry collage w/photography.
a diaristic, nearly "daily writing" (ad)venture.
new pieces are posted most days..
**new and in progress** --
recordings of each poem are being added.
these are read by the author & posted to each poem's page.
--Del Ray Cross (contact delraycross at gmail)
a long time under flying saucers. later we still got glow behind the waterfalls. went immediately to the French big dog #340 and also got with its glue. there was lots of jazz. I tasted your make-up. pretty cool. it was nuclear. Saturday was the best. fourteen years we danced. and at the Cajun restaurant I’d keep the sweat from dripping down your ribs. a whole lot of time in Salem. thirty-five years of lights. it was very loud. I proceeded to lose my new fleece gloves and threw a telephone up to the stars.
rejoice I worked so hard this week even the staid birds done gone frightened by the copters other’n that and squabbling with the men who fear Mauricio’s
let them see their music high in that book I’ve already read whatsit? like lush leopards who crash against the window that is usually just lashed by the puffity wind
here he is he’s from Colombia and on a Saturday night to boot first a couple a pelicans wanted to do coffee ’n heard Ezra slur “hath no blood o’ crimson?” they were very studied seemed better than Ross’s crew
we quite deftly spluttered “death to such smut-mongers” which I’ve got to factor into office politics and the people who actually want to kiss my dire ass
oh to be very thin I say this because it’s so pretty to me even when nobody’s flirty nowhere ah the heartblocked life o’ the new kid
I was dancing at 9:30am not flying to Florida in tercets reading fanzines inside my blue pants two-three days floored so grouchy with no long-term mercy did he apologize via e-mail nope I know this makes no sense I’ve been wondering why so many youths and yet no carrot cake I write a few letters now it’s the point at which I pick up the pink duster you’d think he’d have sent me a message by now listening to a Russian hummingbird over that tree like the helicopters over the anti-war rally last weekend I was there make no bones about it it’s cloudy now and just when he decides that he loves me there’s too much cigarette smoke
who therefore is not agnostic surely everyone is drink water look at the bay from the 28th floor this I hope will get me out of Toledo I just have to be smart read poetry schedule meeting regarding intellectual property to defeat love I must be very pleasant just admit I have the stability sip coffee look up time on telephone’s LCD panel put letter opener back I already know him from the carrel he’s the bartender at Rocky’s mousepad uneven look up at my mint-new penchant he’s standing in front of Klamath Falls tacked to the pegboard next to my computer with Big Apple tack sticky note says office space if possible add’l invitees mtg goals we also talked with a congressman on being observant I’m artsy reserved intelligent should I go Christmas shopping the waving of the white flag anything to take me away
Chalk it up to experience or to an exceptional gift for flattening things. I’m at the Gypsy Cafe and my mind is not my favorite song. I wouldn’t object to a little remorse; it’s to be downright expected but, in fact, I’m literally weeping from a burst of traditional matter (having parked behind the house by the kitchen entrance – of our old apartment on Catherine). Everything so full of endless possibilities, pink and cream roses splayed against an old brick wall, snow pittering into the recycle bins, old movies at our noses in the slim living room, some brown birds flying in through the open windows, mesmeric sex in the, soft skin of.... For revenge, I’m leaning toward the idea of Boston.
just for the record I’m eating tuna over Paul Hoover let’s write down this message “half a box of donuts” I’m a complete jerk and a total asshole “it’s dark, you know?” and I’m really sorry and I guess it was all a big shock “no more birds today” I just wanted you to know that I really do want us to spend some time
hello dear innocent I’ve a feeling a little of being in love for me to admit like cake like Prozac is both help I agree with people your sentiments it’s hard for me to admit I drink more coffee than things are ok more bundt cake more doldrums self-deprecating to learn all there is in 3 or 4 weeks and start over again makes me better more stable in the moment onions and tomatoes a caramel apple with nuts I would love to know you in the snow falling down on the job let me finish let’s just spend the night together
There was the fact that he had been disengaged. That he was in love with someone else. That the laundry was on. That I hadn’t written any of this. That the vacation had just whizzed by. That I was out of breath from six flights.
This is not a justification of any kind. It’s been nice, all in all. I’ve just sort of grown to accept it.
Clouds deepening, a quiet I’m not used to. Clothes into the dryer. I tried calling the number at 1110 N. Monroe and it had been disconnected. Humidity unbelievable.
Now I bet he was right, although I am a bit curious. According to what I’ve heard, he’d been talking about splitting.
A pink box sits on the third shelf up from the bottom. Underneath the pajamas. I wonder what’s in it, though I already know; I know what an experiment this life can be.
during a seminar on the internet last night these thick voiceboxes or whomever were incredibly close to smoking the cigarette of my lead-laden love I thought I was in Cleveland but the plaid-shirted man said “endanger your success!” this big news for another day is just what I wanted I assemble church bells and bang them just about to within the dim fullness of the moon’s breath yesterday he exhaled into my ears and basically said that I’m not meeting any of the goals and objectives that had been laid for me so I open the booklet of shame and spew any confidence that I can perform into the bell-ridden night look at the pink bay grow indigo under the bluer bridge that’s starting to sparkle so okay I’m a scapegoat I have to ride out this rodeo but it’s time for me to live this could just be the shot in the arm that I never...
