Song for trust

 

Bump.

 

Regular slick flow, and a held hiccup

Feels sweet you know, after a few minutes

After a few minutes, shoulder socket aches

A numb hand, and a swelling lip

Every every night we total, and paper spits out

The report works well, to keep track

To keep track, and settle our accounts.

Your account of me, might mismatch

When I’m down, near your knees

When it’s mugged, the air and heat

You finally feel your skin, and a touch

What’s twitching, your need or your hunger

Your need or your hunger, is it any difference?

With a broiling, and a hug wrapped thick

Slide into pants, slide into blue jeans

Both of us a shiver, out late in the back

Both of us a shiver, out late and keeping track

Out late and keeping track, and it suddenly-

 

Jumps.

 

Recall a sun, gentrified

In its glow, its setting hums

We were both settling, into an eventual humdinger

We were both in love with, and out of

We were both, fluid and skimmed at the top

When the cream lands, it splats

Then dries in the day, then a dog licks it

Then a dog licks it, and others recoil

At the sight, at the singleness of this dog

This dog licking spoiled, and then along it trots

With a smile, relaxed and spilled across a snout.

I left with a smile, I left with a sharp inhale

Eyes twitching from stress, and a machination

That bends every choice, into a marathon

Into a marathon, is how most enter

Is how most enter, telling of their exit

Sometimes it’s just worth it, an enthralling

An enthralling, and digestion

And digestion, comes after a sickness of fullness.

Lump.

 

Were you at home, when your original desire

Locked eyes and held you, worked a foreign air

Languid and disruptive, and destined to bend

And destined to bend, you did bend

But with a poker in hand, the whole way tense

The whole way tense, the whole way unrelenting

Even if the goal, never resembling that original

Seemed to hunch like a beacon, a hill unknown

And launching toward, a regular durge.

It rained, it rained for one million years

And your oceans filled, though they filled slowly

And you brought life, in and around wherever

It could fit, it could push through placenta

Warm lines of air, flowing directly into

Flowing directly into, never ceasing

Never ceasing, you brought in air

You brought in air, all around and warm

Will they know warm air, and the deafening

Of one million crickets, singing as the warmth drops.

 

Slump.

 

Terror of the bed tonight, longing for an extra hour

Longing for an extra hour, and lounging in effortless

This will continue, and for months it will pour

It will spill onto passerby, and swish in their mouths

You’ll notice strengthening of muscles, and dirt

And dirt, will begin to collect in the corners

The noises will combine, to a fruitful chime

And bring you some solace, and time

And time, will continue through and back around

You’ll as a circle, rip tear and careen.

For the time being, careening is effortless

To stop the careen, to stop the floating

In the middle of the day, without the clocks wish

You’ll notice your second hand, and stop

And stop, it’s not worth the minimal effort

It’s not worth the minimal effort, but wait

Wait and you’ll receive, the effort of waiting.

Trust.

 

What can be owed, to an eventual trust

The rushing blood of time, or the eternal.

Or the eternal, forever perched in mind

Overseeing not fate, but a sense of purpose

While direction is the end, and not a sense of purpose.

However you spend this time, will it not eventually end?

So.

Relearning alot.

Remaining aloft.

This is growth.

This is change.

Not expected.

But desired.

And perfect.

 

Lushed.

Patience listens up

Hi All,

A fun change this month – a new look! Collaborator/longtime friend/cousin Katie Hands graciously shared her work for this post in addition to tips on site design. Katie is a wonderful writer, and hosts her own blog, here. Please take a look.

This month we focused in on the theme of Patience – one that both of us have been wrestling through lately. It’s a trying time. As we know. The search for patience can sometimes feel like a lost cause. However, time takes its time. Brighter days. The revolution must be joyous.

Enjoy!


Days gone by
by Katie Hands

There are many things
I never told you
Because I didn’t take the time

The words spilled out
Inside my head
Drowning out the rest

Those words I spoke
But didn’t speak
Haunt me to this day

There are many things
I should have said
But couldn’t form the words

Days go by
And each year ends
But the thought of you remains

And everything I never said
Will while away the days

For each new morning
And impending dusk
Will be the only remaining change

One day I’ll tell you everything
If given the chance to speak
And so I’ll wait in the days to come
I’ll wait for you patiently


youth,
by Alexander Gudding

*note: a “>” indicates a redirection of thought

you’re home
when you want to be
haunted

this forest is for your tree
and your tree a forest

with a collapse
and winded, the branch
heaves

so too this feeling,
without incident.

>

a late walk
jeans melting into
thighs.

house lights enthralled
with their occupants,

the looks of
parents listening
intensely,

buildings brown’d against
a blu’ing sky.

>

nowhere,
patience strides
frequently

and rules minds
and holds limbs.

where earth-bound,
a body touches
skin,

and a thought,
lived in.

>

a rumour
lengthens out over
time.

a synapse tingles
to remember.

fussy hands
over a head of
hair,

the spirit’s knuckles
crack and pop.

>

heading out
bending through
solids,

patience mourns.
in times of unrest

its ink settles
at the edges of the
heart.

a heart it seems,
can change color(s).

>

no cleverness
can expedite
growth

as bones take
their time, their breadth.

what feels like waiting
under each other’s
moonlit

desperation,
desperate. desperate.

>

impatience, stop
listing gains like
groceries.

let friendship
and unlimited fervor

build in plain sight,
build bridges
alight.

the runner stopped,
and fed.

>

a body new to
its yearnings encounters
incident.

lipstick underlining
each new word, learning,

a body can be
as gentle as any
other.

the morning will arrive,
all the same.
patiently.

>

air slowly
leaps as we
kiss,

our hands are Beautifully
arranged on the face.

We tiptoe along each
other’s fault lines,
quaking.

stuhp


UMa: Ursa Major

bend your face alittle
over your lease
up above the end of the street
your body out in public
healing in real time
your knee unlocks
eases itself into the lake
a warm body with
a cool top

you chose gentleness
in this new heat
how is strength always
hiding in the bending
grass
how does it arrive w/
the morning
some mornings
and lend uncertainty
a better blanket
to keep the air in
sitting content or
some kind of happy
on the stoop

hopping
through the past
few months
myriad ectothermic
friendships that glisten
new against the passing
glass
as the entire pier
shifts from deeper
currents farther out
again,
does it arrive w/ those
same currents
events nearly imperceivable
until suddenly-
the sea

or a body’s back
on the wooden floor
a warm thing
and a hardness
linking Earth to
shoulder blades
no need to hammer
them into submission
or die for the cause
in anticipation of
a sundowne

be the bear they say
an ursa major
how to balance the
inner she-bear
with longer and longer
claws that push from
the floor
of a darkening sky
no matter if, or
when, an easier
rest approaches

either way
it’ll take
some black lipstick
or blouse to entreat
a dance w/ a new version
on the street newly
tarred
no, not barren or
destructive
again,
choosing an embrace
and pumping
each others blood

hands
take my hands
heap them on
until the dreams
continue through
their best parts
unabated
and then the drums
from out the mouth
beating
out to the corner
join me in the flight
a membership
an annual event

yes the revelry
yes the red lanterns
yes the silence on the
edge of the celebration

we can escape there
Any time we need

the voice and lights
fading as we exit
again,
softly

july. thirty. won.

Anddd we’re back. This month featuring the illustrations of Jacob Storer. We explored with some new styles, writing and painting in tandem, one medium influencing the other – and some slapdash random amblings.

Enjoy!

1)

IMG_9088
One fresh off the press to start:
So many new bodies and edges and
Shapes
Distort the memories of your skin.
To now, where I would hush to see it.
Fall forward, as if it were a pool;
And never toe the bottom.
An early dust with cold blankets
And a bright, muted sun
a day to suffer a
Joyous rebellion
Your forearms
Still lifting
Still and ligaments
Soldered into some thick-clothes
Busting shock of ice
As a greeting.
Welcome home to the plains;
No cap here
Just thinner
And thinner sky
While a weighted car turns over
in its bed of metal.

2)

IMG_9087There’s that fear again.

Peeking around the corner.

Framed against the purple.

Come to sabotage through silence.

Through the dark.

Light makes the biggest waves.

Seem benign.

In their sighing.

As they slam into shore.



3)

IMG_9090dandelion
dampered

darling
design

delivered
desecrate

Bud, bud, just – relax

dood
don’t

Tell me to relax

Dialogue

Dinner
Somewhere

We spoke of patience earlier
And what that harboring
Could eventually unleash
As an ocean

Ribs spreading from within
Like fins from long ago
Our heads swell
With the sudden

Akimbo

Hold on we say
Throttling the dash
Amassing inner wealth
Over atrophy

We’ll rim around again

Certain

Have to look don’t we
Even when we don’t know
What we’re looking at
Well

Worth the business
Of looking

Or spreading the wings of vision
Over the clouded sun
Our spots grow
As we glisten

Full on the air of place
And decision
We’ll apply a straight line
To accentuate

IMG_9092

Thoughts like baleen
Unnerving sense of expansion
In crowded lines
Pointing both up and down

Bump

Bump

Lunge

Ralphed all on

Is it an aerial view
We missed all along
Instead of a wall dripping

Maybe.

IMG_9091
Pollen suddenly collects on the island and the corners disperse they seem to dwindle if nothing else and leave the rest of the shapes desolate of texture or populace as they spread from one island to the next to the next to populate and impose or direct the water’s flow now that the land has been had the land has been decided for, not with so attempted that it now submits to the growing blend

Too late for the islanders

Bridges have been built
Across acidic lakes
Cross-hatched parcels
Lent to one another

An endless stream of dirt
That will eventually compress into a crown
Atop the holder’s head
Holds them all up

HARPOON & LIPS

So, the format has shifted a bit, or really just the schedule.
We’ll go monthly from now on.

This Month, featuring the photography of Cole Witter.

Cole is a very skilled and thoughtful photographer, and has been doing some incredible work throughout NYC for the past couple of years. Luckily, he obliged me when asked if some of his photos could be featured on allthisthunder, and then generously provided the images that populate this post.

Please check out more of his work here.

Enjoy!



1)

Home Late

home late

find a flower. Butter it.
grease and satin. better now.
steely neck. arm wraparound.
all my friends. are dancers.
when you greet them.

some are made of steak. and horseradish.
the preferred dressing. they let melt in the sun.
all my friends. are nudely.
legs out. every hair immaculate.
when they greet you.

we mix colors. others don’t agree.
and slide together. a random joke.
we clean one another. of the AM.
and babble into. then learn our monsters.
how to greet them.

where to rest together. a community.
blooming in utero. atypical silos.
search for the staple gun. our needs.
they’re healthy. they’re brimming.
that’s how they greet you.



2)

Ida

ida buried her grandmother just once

Ida plunges her plow into the ground
And cuts a single note through the cool earth

-but it’s graphic
-some earthworms die

Ida walks from the field burning a stick
And it’s all the field can do, not to sigh

-slick and weathered
-she muscles through

Ida buried her grandmother just once
Among that cloudless patch of grass and sand

-she felt garbled
-and rendered lite

Ida searches at dusk for what she found
Years ago on a similar sojourn

-there are worries
-she’s worried out

Ida returns to her robust memry’
When she was the depth of the ocean too

-when she poured
-her power out

Ida returns to her robust memry’
When her spine ran the length of the cliff long

-when she cracked
-a boulder halved

Ida leans her weight against the alone

-and sunset bends



3)

Processed with VSCO with c9 preset

in front of nature

Gawd these legs-

That walk took fucking forever—————————————————————-

*You fill me up

You know that/

You fill me

Sometimes you only seem lent to us
And i worry you’ll become a statue
For others to walk by in a tall room
And wonder at how-a-wonder
The time with you must have been

-Cut

               You’re cut
You’re so cut
               I see your stomache
And mine is aching for yours
               I’m full on you after, so

                                                                                                  No stop shouting

Not so much
The mood
Anymore
Huh?

OK WHAT’s WRONG

Remember you’re from me
Remember my forearm
Remember several different waiting rooms
Remember the events
That lead to us

There

Cee?

Push back to me – and that milk – rushes through – brand new – my eyes up at yours

I’m in control



4)

helpful

Put some sunscreen on

built from

a body borne.

Else,

why devote time,

to the sky.

you’re wondrous,

without

anything.

And what,

a feat.

Feed.

the field,

where

wander dawned.

and bodies,

in assembly,

speak.

Each,

in their

confusion.

Colorful.

wreath

a health,

around them.

naked

in oldness,

its nudity.

it’s new

To me.

Baby Boi Jibberish

1)

DESPERADO:

this animal
is ragged
but this animal
has god

a thin body
and a pearl
cross.

does the circumstance
absolve from
the consequence.

regular lawd,
applauded.

-dip the prodigy
“this will bring rain.”


 

2)

THE SECOND-TO-FIRST TIME:

WHY, YOUR FOREARMS
ARE STEEL.
RUN MY HANDS
AMONG THEM.

“FINGERS-A-TANGLE”
BABY BOI JIBBERISH
OUT THESE MOUTHS.

CAPITALIZED BY
THESE BODIES, BONES.

IS OUR SCENT
AS BLURRED TO YOU
AS IT IS
TO ME?

AND-

DOES YOUR FATHER
LAUGH LIKE MINE?

AND WOULD HIS
HEART
SLIDE AROUND
IN A FLABBERGAST,
TO KNOW ABOUT US?

DON’T TELL ME-

DON’T TELL ME-

HE HASN’T WONDERED

ABOUT THE DUST WE
LEAVE ON ONE ANOTHER.


 

UNder Under under

Bubbler

I was feeling so burnt until you came,
now I start to fill with liquid again.

 how do you return to blow up old lungs.
why is it we seem to be leaning in.

 I’m trying not to read what you just wrote,
invisible underneath a wet tongue.

 Even when you’re pulled tight against my hips-
I almost wish, with guilt, that you’ll never end.

 What has carried us back to the same stream,
and why do you glisten new and unforgiving.

 How does this happen to two of our kind.
What sentence pulls us together through time.

 well if it doesn’t pan out we can always
float to the bottom and turn a few times.

just to get a foot down on the floor
of some designed and weathered parquet.
open a small fridge from a small corner
and stare at the essentials hardening there.

you seem to know a skills based life,
a needle in the correct position to give a
deserted body the rain it needs to start
a flood

nyc