Original Willy Wonka Kids

Look at the Original Wonkakids all grown up. How crazy is that!!!!! Charlies mustache is creeping me out, Veruca Salt should not look so I don't know 80's Barbie, and what is up with Augustus? You know you're dying to know what they're up to now. Poor Willy Wonka Kids all hit their hight points on this film, well high points as actors and actresses that is.

Lost 7

breathing is a necessity, but you can try it in the comfort of your living room. behind a wall or a closed door. change the course of a breath by holding it, delaying its release for a few stolen seconds. an alteration, a blip in a pattern can sometimes trigger it all. can leave you gasping, gulping for air-fulls of oxygen, an expansion of lungs, a quickened heartbeat, a change in the every day mundane.

Lost 6

I would wear blue as well. sometimes I would mix my blues with browns and oranges. orange becoming the new blue. you could see me miles off. hips swinging. women have a low center of gravity. mine is somewhere near my knees.

Lost 5

stacks waiting for sifting through. a filing system is arbitrary and feels forced. things remembered can come hard and fast instead of in tabbed out quarters, parsed and worked into squared away edges. a wish for the neat and tidy.

Lost 4

moments, as in remembered.

Lost 3

the walls are layered. work like enclosures, corrals. a wide expanse of chopped up degrees. I can fit you in, maybe somewhere in sector 5—close but with uncomfortable moments.

Lost 2

your favorite sweater. the dark blue of wool, nubby and worn. the inside of my left arm imprinted with the weave. linked and locked for moments. passed off as past.

Lost

You're lost to me. Now I'm just a floater something you might see out of the corner of your eye. The way the floater floats on the world, but lives somewhere inside. Floating there for about 15 seconds only to return in 10 months, 5 years, maybe 12. The walls are back, slathered in mortar not wood. Wood is breathable and bleeds.

Cloudy

June 004
Originally uploaded by kris497.

I just typed my blogger login at least 6 times before I got it right. It's been one of those weeks.

This is the Utah sky in June. I miss fluffy clouds and thunderstorms. I miss the blue, I've almost forgotten that the sky is blue, I can't see anything past the fog here. Everything is misted over.

Snippets of overheard conversation:
"There was so much I wanted to show you"

"Doesn't someone miss you"

"The reason above all reasons..." hushed whispers ensue

I think maybe I've just been listening too hard to the background noise in coffee shops, but for some reason I felt compelled to record those snippets. I think they'll be useful at some point.

your arms full of lullabies, orchids and wine

hot socks

sweet santa claus

top heavy with IT

If you're curious and I know you are check out IT.

I have 2 poems up at 42opus. You should read them.

Half-sies

Half-sies NY Eve 2003
Originally uploaded by kris497.

Half-sies from Chicago. I think it fits nicely with the notes on remembering. Half notes, with half thoughts, half remembered and half finished.

Notes I remembered upon returning

Chicago SOS


1. Irving Park/Ravenswood
More of a look, a time of day, the way ginger ale turns
yellow at dusk on the patio behind Café 28

The whooshing rumble
our elevated train-so many feet above.

My calves tip a bit,
jolt jolt.
But you expect it to be so
and lift in anticipation.

2. Wacker
Your French connection picture
blurry and abounding with details.
The movement, propelled forward.

I can see sounds, know them well
can hear:
Taxi cab yellow, dashboard gleam

3. Clark
Why would you insist on walking it,
taking buses crumbled with dirt,
crevices hinged on skin cells.

I told you this is a driving kind of town
you knew but didn’t care. The middle of the country
sleeps inhaling oil fumes,
you are west coast and took them in in gulps.

I prefer the slow silent kind,
the kind taken through tempered glass

4. Adams/Wabash
Ivan’s door seemed real enough to open—
quite large a decade of pain and preparation.

Ivan hidden
on the floor that doesn’t quite
match up, The new wing, the un-blending.
Architecture un-aligned, un-matched, yet workable.

You get to flank
the next gallery, severely nodding.
Would you have stopped and stood looking
had I not taken you
palm to palm to his feet?