That one time in the middle of nowhere,
When we walked in on a man taking a poo.
We looked at each other, then him,
and we didn’t know what to do.
It was a dingy gas station bathroom, surely the locks could work?
How could his mistake turn us into the Jerk?
When we rushed the door open, his pants were at his shoes,
He had a wad of toilet paper in hand like he was reading the news.
He was hunched over doing what needed to be done,
Probably not expecting to make eye contact with anyone.
I held onto the door in disbelief at what I had just seen,
Shocked when he yelled, “Maaaa’aaam” in lowercase, It came off kinda mean.
Spooked and shook I didn’t know what to do,
Never in my life had I seen a guy taking a poo!
With eyes as big as saucers, I sprinted for the van,
I needed to get far far away from that man!
My husband laughed for minutes straight as our tires squealed,
Now I always knock on bathroom doors and keep my eyes peeled!
language — the threshold of the universe
tracing hidden membranes
each word, ganglion
where starlight settles into semantic scaffolding.
we are nerve-endings
where it shivers into tongue
quickening drum of chest.
white space exhales corona-fire
self expands, exoplanetary —
each firing a solar flare
reaching stellar drift
where rift becomes gift.
body tessellates —
flesh dreaming treillage sleep
deep in dendrite-forest
the universe yore-wakens
never separate.
intimacy resurfaces —
lowercase, unannounced
sharp as transistor-click
the universe leans closer —
a soft swirl into wrist and star.
the last synapse
burns backward through fuse
recognition in wristwire
recognition in starlace.
the universe
inscribes first
hieroglyphic axiom.
This is not my body.
Not the one that used to tell everything
to anyone—
I mean everything,
like I thought it might get me somewhere
closer to known.
I sat in a circle today,
some kind of writing thing—
you know the type.
Lots of deep breathing
and soft lighting.
Someone cried reading what they wrote
in the first eight minutes
and I—
well, I flinched.
Not because it wasn’t honest,
but because it was.
Too honest, maybe.
Or just familiar.
I used to be like that—
all exposure and no shape.
Just bleeding out
in lowercase.
And I caught myself thinking,
don’t do it—
as if I could save her
from what happens
when the adrenaline wears off
and all you’re left with
is the echo of your revelation.
But maybe she won’t feel that.
Maybe she’ll never know
what I mean.
And maybe I’m not better now—
just quieter.
Anyway.
This is not my body.
Not anymore.
But I still feel it sometimes,
rattling the old pipes.
maybe if
the spoon
agreed to wear Tuesday
we could reinvent the parachute
in lowercase.
I am wildly conscious of the fact
I don’t know how to speak up anymore.
I feel like I’m yelling and no one can
Hear me
I was told to shut up, then told to
Speak up
I enunciate so much, maybe it’ll be enough.
I’ll repeat myself like I can’t hear the voices of those
Who convinced me
I was always going to be too much.
I can hear every sentence at once
I can see them behind you
I can feel every breath, a condensation down my throat
A condemnation of a pond and I am the boat.
I promise I’m trying, opening my mouth
There’s air coming out, but I can’t hear anything
Over the people fighting over the volume of my voice
Strike a cord with my cords,
I didn’t think they needed tuning.
I’ll repeat myself like I can’t hear their voices
and if I speak in lowercase, maybe they’ll think
I’m less than too much.
mesmerising
bleakness
angst
in
muted
unease
an empty
nothingness
a
glimpse
into
the void
a
dread
from within
this
sombre
sense
of
disenchantment
OPEN FORM in lowercase without grammatical symbols ,uses spaces&breaks relying upon 'the one breath limitation' & as a 'happening' requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input &respond in a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood & thus is inherently variable.
And I remember the rain before it ever started—
the smell of asphalt humming like old vinyl static under my ribs.
You were talking about birds, maybe,
or death, or the last time your mother called, and
I wasn’t listening,
because I was thinking about a dream
where the walls kept pulsing like lungs
and my teeth floated away on tiny rafts
made of gum wrappers and apologies.
And I thought:
How did we get so tired
without ever running?
There’s a window I keep forgetting to close,
and a silence shaped exactly like your absence
folded into the corners of this room,
like the way a spider folds its legs in when it dies—
which is not a metaphor,
but maybe it is.
Everything becomes a metaphor eventually:
grief,
joy,
you.
And I keep writing you in lowercase,
because capitals feel too loud for something
I only whisper in the dark—
something like: stay,
something like: I was never good at doors,
or goodbyes,
or staying still long enough to hear the echo.
The clock has no hands tonight,
and time tastes like metal in my mouth.
The moon keeps peeking like a guilty lover,
and I say: I know.
And I say: It’s okay.
But I don’t know.
And it’s not.
phenomena
light
vibrant
frozen
frills
of
layered
energy
exhilerating
diintegrating
dramas
pervasive
impulsive
spheres
scrawled
quasars
conscious
wellsprings
of
evolved
entanglements
OPEN FORM in lowercase without grammatical symbols ,uses spaces&breaks relying upon 'the one breath limitation' & as a 'happening' requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input &respond in a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood & thus is inherently variable.
gestures
so
delicate
a
paradox
meticulous
spectral
tactile
an intimate
transience
of
ambiguity
a sequence
segmented
in anonymous
apertures
to
a
transparent
'morrow
OPEN FORM in lowercase without grammatical symbols ,uses spaces&breaks relying upon 'the one breath limitation' & as a 'happening' requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input &respond in a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood & thus is inherently variable.
a source
of
inspiration
the
visible
artistic
voice
natural
sensitivities
of
familiar
landscapes
representations
evoking
the
ambiguous
in
elegant
imagery
with
dramatic
visions
enhanced
in realism
serene
&
constrained
OPEN FORM in lowercase without grammatical symbols ,uses spaces&breaks relying upon 'the one breath limitation' & as a 'happening' requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input &respond in a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood & thus is inherently variable.
an
avant-garde
experience
intermittently
evident
this
momentary
muse
in
the milieu
a
short
tryst
of
wild abandon
with
an innate
vivid
sense
of
timeless
vignettess
OPEN FORM in lowercase without grammatical symbols ,uses spaces&breaks relying upon 'the one breath limitation' & as a 'happening' requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input &respond in a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood & thus is inherently variable.
OPEN my recited writing
OPEN FORM in lowercase without grammatical symbols ,uses spaces&breaks relying upon 'the one breath limitation' & as a 'happening' requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input &respond in a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood & thus is inherently variable.
A BRIAN STRAND FORM 3x5 (2012)
.
james
jr.
*tittle; The dot above the lowercase
letters "i" and "j" is called a
"tittle" or superscript dot.
yesss, you're pronouncing
it correctly ')
Sea serpent at the castle drinking margaritas
and I'm eating four leaf clover resting by the
spirit of rock and amethyst lyrics other vegetation
And fruits amongst themselves grapes being stumped
between the toes Footloose as the green flash of the Sun
the last balloon shows it's Iris
gathering up polished stones
placing them in the fire spitting
out the nectar of the lowercase gods
Yet instilled in dancing in ruby slippers
Such a ballerina vegetation eater vegetarian fruit picking sea serpent?
1/29/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
why do i see you when i close my eyes?
why do i see you when i sleep?
why do i dream of you?
why do i think of you when im tired?
and bored?
and lonely?
and when i'm happy?
and when i wake up?
and when i fall asleep?
why do i always think about you?
you were never mine to think about
yet
i cant stop
lowercase intended
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