Language Invader
You won’t get to be anybody alive: America was told to cover her eyes
Same as the Lady of Justice Waters; nobody gets to leave and stay alive—
If we have to fly coach it’s better just to walk or take our chances in the woods
I have an atlas with me: all the knowledge of lines and ground and dirt
Cities are all the same The country is all the same Opinionated and cold
Too cold to move: there is so much unwelcome distance, it’s almost like
Drowning all over again with no dog to save you/me.
Gasoline Notes
Feeling like the wrong kind of party guest: ingenious yet deadly interloper
I’m probably just parasitic in relation to myself, no one else—it doesn’t get better
Shocks in the world; people leaving without goodbye; it’s the kind of trauma
That slithers up into a person’s head & this event occurring and reoccurring all the time
I’m feeling so useless and evil—all I’m bringing with me is questions
My shoes are covered in moss and dirt; I had spent the night dying in the forest
My mouth once knew your brother’s mouth, but we don’t talk about it
I’m sitting here and I’m staring in my cup and then up at the counter and then
Down into the cup again: shadows gather around the lamp outside: parking lot, 2 a.m.
Unable To Move At All
Madness in your nostrils; dark desktop computer with wheezing diagrams;
You are running out of time, says the bookcase and the pillows underneath the red table;
All this beauty is going to fade into glass and carbon and saintliness
Mary is forever in Mexico on any holiday except this one: tonight is me screaming
Peter came around exactly two years ago to say goodbye in his own way
I spent so much time feeling sorry for everybody that I didn’t even see the bear traps in my own
world; loud thick metallic snap and crunch of bone
Metaphorical dynasties fall, crumble—eject their lonesome heroic pilots out of the sky
I stop at the end of the world and the end of the world looks a lot like Brooklyn
All of these buildings and things—that’s all we get to leave behind for the kids
Doesn’t that just make you mad?
Alexander Russell is a journalist with background in art & design. Originally from Ukraine, he's lived in America for 15+ years. He writes for work as well as for fun; he greatly enjoys collecting DVDs and CDs. In writing as in life, empathy is everything.