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“It’s worth knowing who’s going to whisper your name when everyone else is screaming.”
―
―
“Because I live in south Florida I store cans of black beans and gallons
of water in my closet in preparation for hurricane season.
I throw a hurricane party in January. You’re my only guest.
We play Marco Polo in bed. The sheets are wet like the roof caved in.
There’s a million of me in you. You try to count me as I taste the sweat
on the back of your neck. I call you Sexy Sexy, and we do everything twice.
After, still sweating, we drink Crystal Light out of plastic water bottles.
We discuss the pros and cons of vasectomies. It’s not invasive you say.
I wrap the bedsheet around my waist. Minor surgery you say.
You slur the word surgery, like it’s a garnish on a dish you just prepared.
I eat your hair until you agree to no longer talk about vasectomies.
We agree to have children someday, and that they will be beautiful even if they’re not.
As I watch your eyes grow heavy like soggy clothes, I tell you When I grow up
I’m going to be a famous writer. When I’m famous I’ll sign autographs
on Etch-A-Sketches. I’ll write poems about writing other poems,
so other poets will get me. You open your eyes long enough to tell me
that when you grow up, you’re going to be a steamboat operator.
Your pores can never be too clean you say.
I say I like your pores just fine. I say Your pores are tops.
I kiss you with my whole mouth, and you fall asleep next to my molars.
In the morning, we eat french toast with powdered sugar. I wear the sugar
like a mustache. You wear earmuffs and pretend we’re in a silent movie.
I mouth Olive juice, but I really do love you.
This is an awesome hurricane party you say, but it comes out as a yell
because you can’t gauge your own volume with the earmuffs on.
You yell I want to make something cute with you.
I say Let me kiss the insides of your arms.
You have no idea what I just said, but you like the way I smile.”
―
of water in my closet in preparation for hurricane season.
I throw a hurricane party in January. You’re my only guest.
We play Marco Polo in bed. The sheets are wet like the roof caved in.
There’s a million of me in you. You try to count me as I taste the sweat
on the back of your neck. I call you Sexy Sexy, and we do everything twice.
After, still sweating, we drink Crystal Light out of plastic water bottles.
We discuss the pros and cons of vasectomies. It’s not invasive you say.
I wrap the bedsheet around my waist. Minor surgery you say.
You slur the word surgery, like it’s a garnish on a dish you just prepared.
I eat your hair until you agree to no longer talk about vasectomies.
We agree to have children someday, and that they will be beautiful even if they’re not.
As I watch your eyes grow heavy like soggy clothes, I tell you When I grow up
I’m going to be a famous writer. When I’m famous I’ll sign autographs
on Etch-A-Sketches. I’ll write poems about writing other poems,
so other poets will get me. You open your eyes long enough to tell me
that when you grow up, you’re going to be a steamboat operator.
Your pores can never be too clean you say.
I say I like your pores just fine. I say Your pores are tops.
I kiss you with my whole mouth, and you fall asleep next to my molars.
In the morning, we eat french toast with powdered sugar. I wear the sugar
like a mustache. You wear earmuffs and pretend we’re in a silent movie.
I mouth Olive juice, but I really do love you.
This is an awesome hurricane party you say, but it comes out as a yell
because you can’t gauge your own volume with the earmuffs on.
You yell I want to make something cute with you.
I say Let me kiss the insides of your arms.
You have no idea what I just said, but you like the way I smile.”
―
“Books can break a man open,
even ones about a panda, maybe especially so.”
― Ab morgen ein Leben lang
even ones about a panda, maybe especially so.”
― Ab morgen ein Leben lang
“What if there is this time bomb to love. What if it's like you fall in love with so many people who just aren't for you, and with each one, your heart toughens up, and you have to find the one who is right for you before your heart is completely calcified in your chest.”
― The Future for Curious People
― The Future for Curious People
“I think our souls are always being hole-punched, like old train tickets. In the end, we're all perforated. If we were buckets, we wouldn't hold water.”
― The Future for Curious People
― The Future for Curious People
“I feel like I’m going to get in a fight one day about the validity of falling in love so fast. Not a heated one because why would I give a shit if some other person gets it or not? Right now, it’s no longer the big flooding rush like when I saw her naked shoulder. It’s just this honest, frank truth. I love Evelyn Shriner. Love doesn’t start with need. Love meets love and just fucking recognizes itself. I’m supposed to be scared to death. Modern man isn’t built for these kinds of things. But I feel good.”
― The Future for Curious People
― The Future for Curious People
“Her love could stretch on unconditionally and endlessly, like
it’s a universe within her. I’m drawn to the edge of that universe. I’d like to fall into a black hole of it somehow. I just whisper, “God.”
― The Future for Curious People
― The Future for Curious People
“I tend books the way someone in an aviary tends birds.”
― The Future for Curious People
― The Future for Curious People
“Writing should be a little bit grainy, it should be a little bit raw. It should be every single thing flowing inside of us, and most of it isn’t pretty. If there is nothing at stake in what I’m reading, if there is nothing at stake for the writer, I am just not interested. You gotta be there. You have to basically bleed for it. If not, why are you trying to put this in the world.”
―
―
“As a kid, I went to the library because, in books, there were people really living lives, and unlike my parents, they talked to me about important things.”
― The Future for Curious People
― The Future for Curious People
“What happened in the bar doesn't matter anymore. None of that matters. It's already the past and the past is dead. It's a shed skin. The present is worthless. It's just a thin membrane between the death of the past and the endless offerings for living in the future. I pick the future.”
― The Future for Curious People
― The Future for Curious People
“I’m alive. This might be the first time I’ve ever really been alive in my whole fucking miserable life. This moment is what causes wars to start. The only books worth reading have been written about those lips.”
― The Future for Curious People
― The Future for Curious People
“You’re breaking up with me because I’m not a successful
guitarist, and because I seem like I’m just a guy handing out pamphlets on a street corner!
You’re disgusted.” This is why Adrian is disgusted with Adrian and has nothing to do with me.
Very little of our relationship has much to do with me, which is one of the actual reasons I’m
breaking up with him. He loves me but doesn’t really understand me – so, in effect, does he
really love me?”
― Ab morgen ein Leben lang
guitarist, and because I seem like I’m just a guy handing out pamphlets on a street corner!
You’re disgusted.” This is why Adrian is disgusted with Adrian and has nothing to do with me.
Very little of our relationship has much to do with me, which is one of the actual reasons I’m
breaking up with him. He loves me but doesn’t really understand me – so, in effect, does he
really love me?”
― Ab morgen ein Leben lang
“Notes on a Candy Cane Tree"
What did I think about before you touched my thigh? Let me say this: I’m going to touch you until my fingers fall off. If my fingers don’t fall off, I will hold your hand even if it’s sweaty. And let me say this: You are lovelier than clouds that look like lovely things. I have only loved a few times and the last time was when you rubbed my neck under the monkey bars. We weren’t much younger than we are now. I still have the same haircut. You still have only one dimple. It’s on your left cheek and it looks like you fell on a pebble. I love that it looks like you fell on a pebble. Let me say this: You taste like candy canes. There was a candy cane tree in my old neighborhood. My neighbor hung candy canes on the branches of the willow and I snatched them in the middle of the night. It was December when I rode my bike the quickest, like I was going somewhere to meet you. I like you more than the candy cane tree. Let me say this: I am uncomfortable in my own skin, so I hold your face. I hold your face and your hips but mostly your face. You have a lovely face. Let me say this: I love you like monsters like scaring little kids. I make a list of words I can use to diagram your body: petite, mellifluous, comely, milk, necessary. Please, forgive the humming; you see I rarely taste candy canes in March. When I don’t taste you I taste sweat. Not good sweat, mind you, sweaty sweat from the men’s locker room. Sometimes I taste pizza, but that’s only because I loved pizza first. Let me say this: My love for pizza was fleeting. I was young and naive and thought that extra toppings meant something. These are fine days because they end with you. Let me just say this: I’m going to kiss you until my lips fall off. If my lips don’t fall off, I will kiss up your spine until I run out of spine. Then I’ll start over.
— Gregory Sherl, [PANK] Magazine 4.09 / September 2009”
―
What did I think about before you touched my thigh? Let me say this: I’m going to touch you until my fingers fall off. If my fingers don’t fall off, I will hold your hand even if it’s sweaty. And let me say this: You are lovelier than clouds that look like lovely things. I have only loved a few times and the last time was when you rubbed my neck under the monkey bars. We weren’t much younger than we are now. I still have the same haircut. You still have only one dimple. It’s on your left cheek and it looks like you fell on a pebble. I love that it looks like you fell on a pebble. Let me say this: You taste like candy canes. There was a candy cane tree in my old neighborhood. My neighbor hung candy canes on the branches of the willow and I snatched them in the middle of the night. It was December when I rode my bike the quickest, like I was going somewhere to meet you. I like you more than the candy cane tree. Let me say this: I am uncomfortable in my own skin, so I hold your face. I hold your face and your hips but mostly your face. You have a lovely face. Let me say this: I love you like monsters like scaring little kids. I make a list of words I can use to diagram your body: petite, mellifluous, comely, milk, necessary. Please, forgive the humming; you see I rarely taste candy canes in March. When I don’t taste you I taste sweat. Not good sweat, mind you, sweaty sweat from the men’s locker room. Sometimes I taste pizza, but that’s only because I loved pizza first. Let me say this: My love for pizza was fleeting. I was young and naive and thought that extra toppings meant something. These are fine days because they end with you. Let me just say this: I’m going to kiss you until my lips fall off. If my lips don’t fall off, I will kiss up your spine until I run out of spine. Then I’ll start over.
— Gregory Sherl, [PANK] Magazine 4.09 / September 2009”
―
“I feel like I'm going to get in a fight one day about the validity of falling in love so fast. Not a heated one because why would I give a shit if some other person gets it or not? Right now, it's no longer the big flooding rush like when I saw her naked shoulder. It's just this honest, frank truth. I love Evelyn Shriner. Love doesn't start with need. Love meets love and just fucking recognizes itself. I'm supposed to be scared to death. Modern man isn't built for these kinds of things. But I feel good.”
―
―
