Little girls
playing in the dirt,
wiping their hands
on their dresses.
Everything else
is a sophisticated mask.
-Jim DuBois
July 3, 2012
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Innocence
When I was
six or seven
my friend
said "fuck",
but I had no idea
what it meant.
He told me
it was a bad word
and wouldn't tell me
what it meant
until we
got away from
my little brother,
and went to a hill
in a far corner
of his father's
cow pasture.
Then he told me
that it meant
two people kissing
when they weren't
married.
-Jim DuBois
June 23, 2012
six or seven
my friend
said "fuck",
but I had no idea
what it meant.
He told me
it was a bad word
and wouldn't tell me
what it meant
until we
got away from
my little brother,
and went to a hill
in a far corner
of his father's
cow pasture.
Then he told me
that it meant
two people kissing
when they weren't
married.
-Jim DuBois
June 23, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Wet Squirrel
Wet squirrel
hopping across the lawn in a thunderstorm,
do you get lonely too?
-Jim DuBois
June 3, 2012
hopping across the lawn in a thunderstorm,
do you get lonely too?
-Jim DuBois
June 3, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Return of the Slacker - The Book!
I made another version of my blog: a printed one.
It contains all the poems on this blog, except the two right before this entry. That's over 200 poems from 4 years, all in this one book.
Click here to get a copy
Click here to get a copy.
It contains all the poems on this blog, except the two right before this entry. That's over 200 poems from 4 years, all in this one book.
Click here to get a copy
Click here to get a copy.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Vistaprint and Nothingness
I made a postcard
at Vistaprint
which had the words
"there was a time
I was enveloped
by months of nothingness"
on the front,
and as I was
placing an order
for copies of it,
Vistaprint asked
if I would like
to automatically send
copies of the postcard
to a carefully selected
target demographic.
I paused, really,
and thought about it,
because I wondered
who they would select:
The unemployed?
Zen monks?
Hermits?
Lazy people?
Couch potatoes?
Depressed people?
Or on the sadder front,
might they go to
old people in nursing homes,
inmates on death row
or in solitary confinement?
I figured that
even if they
ended up
in the hands
of a very normal,
nice suburbanite,
it would be good
for that moment of wonder,
for that,
"what the hell is this"
look on their face.
I declined the offer,
but not before
I imagined
the postcards being delivered
to newborn babies
as a welcome
to the world.
-Jim DuBois
May 21, 2012
at Vistaprint
which had the words
"there was a time
I was enveloped
by months of nothingness"
on the front,
and as I was
placing an order
for copies of it,
Vistaprint asked
if I would like
to automatically send
copies of the postcard
to a carefully selected
target demographic.
I paused, really,
and thought about it,
because I wondered
who they would select:
The unemployed?
Zen monks?
Hermits?
Lazy people?
Couch potatoes?
Depressed people?
Or on the sadder front,
might they go to
old people in nursing homes,
inmates on death row
or in solitary confinement?
I figured that
even if they
ended up
in the hands
of a very normal,
nice suburbanite,
it would be good
for that moment of wonder,
for that,
"what the hell is this"
look on their face.
I declined the offer,
but not before
I imagined
the postcards being delivered
to newborn babies
as a welcome
to the world.
-Jim DuBois
May 21, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
A Measure of What was Given
A measure of what was given
A measure of what was lost
A measure of time gone by
A measure of time going by
A measure of time
A measure of empty space
A measure of lost love
A measure of goodness
A measure of strangers on the sidewalk
A measure of words
A measure of words and meanings
A measure of mental images
A measure of days
A measure of years
A measure of what was written
A measure of what was not
A measure of something breaking
A measure of something about to break
A measure of pressure
A measure of release
A measure of things starting
A measure of those things ending
-Jim DuBois
May 13, 2012
A measure of what was lost
A measure of time gone by
A measure of time going by
A measure of time
A measure of empty space
A measure of lost love
A measure of goodness
A measure of strangers on the sidewalk
A measure of words
A measure of words and meanings
A measure of mental images
A measure of days
A measure of years
A measure of what was written
A measure of what was not
A measure of something breaking
A measure of something about to break
A measure of pressure
A measure of release
A measure of things starting
A measure of those things ending
-Jim DuBois
May 13, 2012
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