I'm hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own
I wasn't going to post about my Yuletide nominations, because I pretty much went with the usual suspects, but I've been waffling about a couple things, given the relaxation of the franchise rule thingy, and then angelgazing said, "We should nominate one of Richard Siken's poems. But which one?" And I said, "Why not just the whole book? We should nominate Crush and list Henry and Theodore and whoever else is named (Jeff)." And then I went to look and someone had already nominated it (though Theodore needs to be added to the character list)! Oh, hello, I am totally reworking my requests in my head now to fit this in. I mean, seriously:
Henry's driving,
and Theodore's bleeding shotgun into the upholstery.
It's a road movie,
a double-feature, two boys striking out across America, while desire,
like a monster, crawls up out of the lake
with all of us watching, with all of us wondering if these two boys will
find a way to figure it out.
(from Driving Not Washing)
you know you want to write about Henry and Theodore and how they ended up there and whether they figure it out!
Here's Henry again, being kind of an asshole:
You can't get out of this one, Henry, you can't get it out of me, and with this bullet
lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because
it's all I have,
because I'm hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I'll be your
slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this
bullet inside me
'cause I couldn't make you love me and I'm tired of pulling your teeth. Don't you see, it's like
I've swallowed your house keys, and it feels so natural, like the bullet was already there,
like it's been waiting inside me the whole time.
(from Wishbone)
(I am totally writing a story someday called "Turn myself into a gun." I just haven't figured out how to do it yet.)
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/231092.html.
people have commented there.
Henry's driving,
and Theodore's bleeding shotgun into the upholstery.
It's a road movie,
a double-feature, two boys striking out across America, while desire,
like a monster, crawls up out of the lake
with all of us watching, with all of us wondering if these two boys will
find a way to figure it out.
(from Driving Not Washing)
you know you want to write about Henry and Theodore and how they ended up there and whether they figure it out!
Here's Henry again, being kind of an asshole:
You can't get out of this one, Henry, you can't get it out of me, and with this bullet
lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because
it's all I have,
because I'm hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I'll be your
slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this
bullet inside me
'cause I couldn't make you love me and I'm tired of pulling your teeth. Don't you see, it's like
I've swallowed your house keys, and it feels so natural, like the bullet was already there,
like it's been waiting inside me the whole time.
(from Wishbone)
(I am totally writing a story someday called "Turn myself into a gun." I just haven't figured out how to do it yet.)
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/231092.html.
people have commented there.