Untitled- Unformated

Untitled- Unformated

I heard the train go whistling past
and found it was the plane roaring above.
And the footsteps through the house,
the creaking of it settling in.

And the dust that danced through light beams
as they filtered through the blinds
and the dark in each, every corner
that collides and multiplies.

And I heard the fan play music
as is fluted over glass
the hollow breeze make shelter
in the rusted oven gate.

Laying,
heat upon me
sitting in the only shaft of light.
It slowly burns me.
The traced shadow on my legs trace it's scalding embrace.

I made a cake today
and I swear I put too much water in it.
And I had to bake it out.
The edges look burnt
but still feel tender.
I made the icing softer
by liquefying it
and it wouldn't spread
only ooze
and it tore the top of the cake off
and I bits of batter peek right through.

Oh silence
you're hear with mine.

I don't know what happened today to make it worse
and I'm just sitting here in hear
and listening to everything around me
even the paused television movie
that whirs it's way playing and playing
it's sounds although the audio track is muted.

And today started so well
and then my head felt so compact
and my face- the skin was so tight
like everything was about to pop from it

And I can't stop thinking about what to say
or how to say it
AND i THINK
this is my anxiety
popping and snapping can crackling
as I eat sugared cereal
wanting to save room for tonight.

Oh tonight,
I'm thinking about the drive
and I'm thinking about my own
and driving forward and onward past mountains
is where everything from this moment
lies.

Oh lies.
oh lies
lies lies lies lies.

And lyrical lies

and dancing in them and
feeling
feelding shame
brought on my years of though and years of dogma
before it.

And what I'm I to feld now.

Feld feld feld
and take the whole forest down
leaves scatter and left
and banana leaves to trip on and slide downwards
legs upward and spread.

And listening to the fan again,
and looking at the time.

I must go.


I must pull the cake from the fridge.
Maybe it'll stay in the car.
I won't.
But perhaps I'll leave my mistakes there.

-Matthew Koutzun

Your Shadow Looks Nothing Like You

Your Shadow Looks Nothing Like You

Stretched and
filled
and held together with light
your shadow looks nothing like you.

Villainous nose
and extended brow
it does nothing to mimic the truth.

Like a moth
to a light
and the monstrous beast on the wall
your shadow betrays who you are.

The sun in you hair
and the gleam in your eye
hold you far better in the morning.

So I'll wait till noon
when your shadows diminished,
and I'll wait till night
when we can play inside each one.

-Matthew Koutzun

How we Measure

How we Measure

Oh,
it's all new again.
Though it's only a few kilometers away.

I've been moving further and further
and each time I go back
I retrace the steps that move me each time.

It's purely coincidental
that each time I've left some institution
and moved to the next
it's been further from the one I went to
and home.

But now without walls
and without form
I'm trying to measure.

I'm building with blocks
and moving when needed
and chapters, and pages are passed.

I didn't know how to mark these passages
or how to notice growth
but time and time again
I move from each institution using intuition
and am finding I'm the only institution in time.

-Matthew Koutzun

How We Stay Kindled

How We Stay Kindled

Staring at your back
I'm here
and wondering how it started
lying next to you bewildered.

What is it that makes us continue
when perhaps a spark is lost?

And you turning over
giving a squinted
and a tired smile
as you drift back away
to some bright place

I see how it works
falling again and again
unnoticed
but felt.

-Matthew Koutzun

Slip

Slip

Slip on the ice
and down the slope
and grab on nails biting
into soil and snow
as you claw to reach the top again.

Slip of the tongue
is what got you here
and what scares you most
is you can't go back.

-Matthew Koutzun

Why Are You Still Up?

Why Are You Still Up?

Why are there still seagulls screaming
at 4:23 in the morning?

-Matthew Koutzun

Five of Spades and Meeting You Tonight.

Five of Spades and Meeting You Tonight

Once I left, I wandered home.

Dizzy and itchy eyed
(from playing with the cat I shouldn't have
instead of the cat I should have)
I, awe struck by the night,
was struck by spade and shovel on the ground-
five to be exact-
laying face down on the sidewalk;
risqué blue cover: face up.

I palmed it and kept it as my memento.

Who cares if it means bad luck to some fortune teller.

I'll make my own meanings as I please.

-Matthew Koutzun

Still Fresh in the Night

Still Fresh in the Night

Walking home at 2:55
it's all still fresh in the night.
Walking the streets half lit
still have the shine from the sunlight
lit by numerous, multiple bulbs.

Spotlighting trees
highlighting and contrasting
branch and leaf from the night.
Each sprig like a mint leaf
curling and blooming from bud.

Delicate green
and softened by post lamp orange
everything is chilled in the night.
Preserved and sealed
in damp moonlight.

-Matthew Koutzun

I Never Said It'd Be Easy Living With A Contradiction

I Never Said It'd Be Easy Living With A Contradiction

I'm your rebel baby,
your lost cause son-of-a-bitch,
a rewind passage
and backward progression in one.

I'm forward passiveness
gimme-gimme generous
giving hedonist
and plagiarist of creation.

Oh baby, come forward,
and I'll age you back to youth,
another trip around the sun
and you'll be wiser and younger for it.

Wasting youth on the old
never will taste as good
as it does in the sun
on the beach in December.

So be my innocent convict-
my honoured son of God-
a fast-forward brick wall
and my future crumbing in none.

-Matthew Koutzun

Was that All

Was that All

That's all it took to break
as he looked at it on the floor.
Just a drop.
He thought about it in his head,
before letting go-
imagining the impact and the scatter.
He just wondered what if
this precious thing in my hands-
valued-
something I'd be in trouble for before-
what if I just drop it?

But the real thing was much different
in the way that randomness can only provide
and he jumped anyways.
Porcelain darting and farthing away,
twinkling and skidding across the tile.

She jumped too
asking if he was alright-
how it slipped.

It just slipped out.

Well, that's all it needs.
And a smile,
and it's done.

He wonders why he never broke something before
and smiles back.

-Matthew Koutzun

Did You See What They Did to Her Breasts?

Did You See What They Did to Her Breasts?

I'm gonna say it and someone's gonna raise a fuss:
but what's wrong with pretty?
What's wrong with something and it's superficial value?
What's wrong with taking care of yourself?
What's wrong with wanting to be presentable?

Is it because of all the terrible things people have done to attain it?
Why must someone be destroying themselves to be it?
Why must someone have paid for something augmented if they're in the spotlight?

Sure it's all image
and it's all manipulatable
but a talent like any other
it's a skill learned with time.

Pygmalion
and My Fair Lady.
Which is prettier?
And which do you know better?

-Matthew Koutzun

Busy

Busy

I'm busy on the phone again,
it cutting in and out
and me thinking in and out
during its short breaks
about all the things I need to do.

I have that big thing
and that little thing
and not to mention
all the little things
I want to keep doing.

Oh, something is going to give
and if it's not one thing
it'll be something small
from all of them
and everyone is bound to be pissed off then.

But I'm giving more of myself
and time is growing shorter
so why am I here then
writing poems
as if the list were getting smaller.

-Matthew Koutzun

Technicality

Technicality

We both could be right,
and then you had to be a bitch about it.

-Matthew Koutzun

This is what my Thirst feels like

This is what my Thirst feels like

Filling up glasses again
up and over the brim.
water cracking over crevasse
and quickly chasing down.

Splish and patter on the table
I'm going overboard,
again with ambition
withholding everything while reaching for more.

One of these days I'll take a drink.
And finally be refreshed.

-Matthew Koutzun

Broken Sonata from where I Stand

Broken Sonata from where I Stand

Does it seem odd to me?
Well,
why don't I ask you?
Does it seem odd to you?

I'm looking at this
from both directions
and I see your point,
but what I'm feeling can't be changed.

Yeah, I get where you're coming from
and you'd never do it yourself
but here I am
in the throws of it

and surprisingly
it's quite easy.

-Matthew Koutzun