Thursday, June 12, 2014

lydia or

mom? mom! when the giants die, are they gonna fall on us?

Monday, June 9, 2014


















          it's a grim june. it feels like something's dying, like it's dead. my bike died and my computer but they aren't quite dead yet. those definite dead continue to haunt our spaces. dad keeps coming to me through books. i know he's influencing me, putting books to me with messages, all the things he couldn't say kind of thing. i keep dying too but popping up. i thank the light hidden stars and the king of trees whatever for the books and films, and even this pathetic nowhere blog and god above all the dogs and above all the dogs the golden child my i and i copp.  and somethings got to give and that means die i think because otherwise nothing gives, what gives. forgive me if you care. love, doug

Sunday, June 8, 2014


























when i'm gone i won't be anywhere i guess. still i'm writing to the dead. my dad's dead next week's father's day. we scattered him over chicago all the places he use to go, his make-out spots, his baseball diamond, his beach, the random spots where he rolled drunks for cash, ah me, he's scattered and we scattered him, and are scattered as well.  where was i going with this. same as in talk therapy, i seem to trail off into the same vacant wilderness.