Moderating Moments

Moderating Moments

Event constructed
then deconstructed
motives found
then scrutinized
praised
branded
and then boxed
passed down the line
stamped
approved unsatisfactory
returned
banned
released to the world
If we'd only found the mistake
sooner

-Matthew Koutzun

Remembering a Friend -or- I Hoped I'd Never Miss You

Remembering a Friend
-or-
I Hoped I'd Never Miss You

Remembrance a dangerous path hold still
filled with old feelings and dug up reverences
half filled with the emotions that dwelled then
and overflowing with the emotions of perspective now

Winding down corridors with many doors
the ones that are locked we stalk and we probe
answers are behind them mocking and repentful
they'll solve a mystery that happened back before

Click walk silence and full tempests of languity
as one walks backward looking through mirrors cracked
and they conceal more than they reveal of the otherside
ourselves blocking such truths that we seek beyond

Halt and step and look and tear stream down rivers
and loop and cherish one moment that existed when
foam frost fire and at least one other sense
as we cling to what once was and what once we're

The questions with replies we hear that are unsatisfactory
marking us with ubiquity and oblique references
to defy a map with no arrow a compass pointing south to
hold it up revere and pock it love it and I don't want to go back

-Matthew Koutzun

Note

Note

BEAT
Pick-up --> 3:50 p.m.
2 Oranges - fresh (no rotten- dumby)
Send thank-you cards
RETURN GIFT
thank Helen for it
Buy Groceries with money
Call mom
Wash FRANK'S clean shirts
Clean out the closet
Write to gas company
Drop off KEY
Find box with KEY
open/close

-Matthew Koutzun

Position: It's Yours

Position: It's Yours

**** is a place,
made of back seats-
theatre darkness.

In the back halls of alleys

The recesses
of the spaces we make.

Foreign hidings
of adventurous voyourism


coveted privacy.


Mistaken identities,
of niches hated-

volume
detested after events.

Altered.

**** is a place,
the one we make
one we think we ought to be.

-Matthew Koutzun

(What's your position? What's your word? How do you make your space?)

A Cut in the Sun: A Flare

A Cut in the Sun:
A Flare

A cut in the sun:
a flare,
a distinct flame
living off of itself
away from the source.

How divine
how seperate;
surragate
to something more.

A cut in the sun:
a bone,
a being flesh
growing into being
greater than the womb.

-Matthew Koutzun

(Ok, another painting by the same name as the poem.
Again, done by myself.)

Too Much Time On Your Hands

Too Much Time On Your Hands

Haven't had time to think.
Thinking of thinking.
Haven't done much of it as of yet.

Thinking of thinking,
is a wasteful time,
meant to distract from the actual act.

But the act of thinking of the act,
has caused the act,
and now I just want to stop thinking.

But stopping:
it begins,
and time thinking is wasted again.

-Matthew Koutzun

Swept away

Swept away

in the details
the moment
a silly little thing caught on tape
breathing
by a broom
by someone lifting you off your feet
a wind
on a cart
in a car heading to god knows where
by a kite
on a chance
how I'd stay if they only let me
on a whim
hold on tight
the fantasmic is a hard place to go

Matthew Koutzun