kid_hideous

random meditations: finding a "real job" is bloody awful. I just finished my B.A. and so begins the tiresome cycle of sending out resumes and getting "i'm sorry" emails. I studied English, which (hooray for me!) means I can write and edit well. Wow, now there's a skill NO ONE needs. Well, they do, actually...quite badly. But I haven't seen a single bloody listing for an entry level editorial (or even copy-writing, for chrissakes) job. Everyone needs a managing editor! Apparently I've entered the world's only field entirely devoid of entry-level possibilities!!! Fuck!

Excuse the vent. Right now I'm wishing I'd actually invested some time in all those random dreams of apprenticing to be a tattoo artist, or piercer, or masseuse, or...something. I'm a man in need of practical skills.

But at least the writing's going well (despite all the writing-time this site is so rapidly consuming!). I've got poems out for review all over the place and I'm working on a short story to submit soon (which is what I should be working on...lol). If anyone's interested in reading, let me know: I'd love to get some preliminary opinions.

listening to the Swans. I love the Swans. the Swans make me happy.

Rambling done, here's a new poem:

Psalm

None kneads us again from earth and clay,
none bespeaks our dust.
None.

Praised be your name, none.
By your will
will we flower.
You
towards you.

A nothing
were we, are we, will
we remain, blooming,
a nothingrose, a
nonerose.

With
the pistil, darkbright,
the stamen skyravaged
our corona red
with the crimsonword we sang
over over
the thorn.

*

Your
being, beyond, overnight
with word hold you here, there are you,
all is true and a waiting
for truth.

growing, the bean before
our window: think
who near us watches and
grows.

God, read we, is
a shard and a second, scattered:
in the death
of the scythed he
waxes.

there
leads our seeing,
with this
half
we regard.