I bought a pack and burned it
\nwoke up broke & earned it
\nI guess it’s inevitable that things
\nwill never be as before, reality<\/p>\n
do I second guess you? can I?<\/p>\n
sometimes Easton Ave looks like
\na tunnel, or a runway, my
\nbreath the airy commerce btw
\nPizza City and the vengeful hand of
\nJehovah, like trying to find the
\ndifference btw the puke splattered
\nsidewalk and a burst of wild
\ntiger-lilies<\/p>\n
I wish the power lines really did hum,
\nthe remnant fields rolling like
\nfractured stormy seas, I wish
\nI were incarnate most of the time,
\nmilk-crates, ball courts, I hang
\nheavy on the bush like late-summer
\ntomatoes<\/p>\n
you say that you know me
\nisn’t this unfathomable, like
\nthe outer reaches of some temporal galaxy
\ndo you see my sputtering stars?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
purgatory<\/strong><\/p>\n I want to attempt hallucinations <\/p>\n on stumbling over some indescribable emotion<\/strong><\/p>\n Lisbon sank down like a dream brushing away light from the curtains some forty thousand suddenly I taste cigarettes, whiskey sour<\/p>\n the wedding caved in like a memory <\/p>\n colossus<\/strong><\/p>\n this nights not worth the talk <\/p>\n beginning<\/strong><\/p>\n seagulls float on the morning and every day I destroy myself from the curb to the swaying power lines, dogs bark down central fragile, like a mindset, <\/p>\n gone<\/strong><\/p>\n you are unreachable like a high score, a phantom limb, I noticed, when you’re not around I am scared that you <\/p>\n you say that you know me By Dan Hoopes<\/strong>. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":119,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-36887","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36887","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/119"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=36887"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36887\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=36887"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=36887"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=36887"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nso I stare at my hand in the air over my face
\nuntil I wind up bored and forget what I ever wanted
\nhow I feel about you is a terrible thing to know
\nthe warm air, when you want to chase the rain
\nin the middle of a slow paved street with quiet
\nhouses like so many teeth, erupting like the stars
\nout of the spaces between trees, and
\nI want to lay in the street and look up there
\nbut I probably won’t<\/p>\n
\nevery empty can is an act of god<\/p>\n
\nimagining waves to Guadalquivir<\/p>\n
\na thought in a cold hotel room<\/p>\n
\nin the best of all possible worlds<\/p>\n
\nan empanada, or a worry,
\ntwo cigarettes or a cavalcade of refills for my
\ntime-defying coffee,
\nyou’re on empty at the stoplights (your dreams)
\nthat stand like a colossus at the harbor, or maybe
\nlike the egg of Columbus, or
\nyour delicate inability to make a point
\nand seem authentic in your excitement
\nfinally I’ve met Zionists
\nand swingset types, sheesha smoke
\nlike nebulae, or a swirl of half and half
\ndiluting in my eternal bitterness,
\nthat is,
\nI’ve seen the avenue long-boarded,
\nshame-walked, and thought
\nthat still, the gods defy us
\nand you too, with that Rhodes in your heart
\nnot all things can be astride, and conquer
\nsimply with steps, and bronze, and slowly
\ncast ambition, the ground
\nlike running buffalo off a cliff
\nrumbles under the inevitable destiny that
\nyou somehow control and don’t and all of
\na sudden it’s 1964 and you never thought
\nold Harpo would die or at least
\nthere would be no sound
\nwhen he did it<\/p>\n
\nthe garbage trucks tremble down
\nNew Brunswick’s tight streets<\/p>\n
\nmore often watching sparrows
\ndisappear the distance<\/p>\n
\njust like that, in one swift rise<\/p>\n
\npower lines wade into the
\ndistant noise<\/p>\n
\nor an afternoon that shrinks down
\nto night<\/p>\n
\nor mount Everest 100 years ago, maybe
\nless out of reach than dreams <\/p>\n
\nthe last, unopened beer
\nthe upper east side
\nor the moon, soho or shanghai,
\nyou are unimaginable <\/p>\n
\nthe way the moments echo<\/p>\n
\nand the you in my head
\nwill be going their separate ways<\/p>\n![\"danhoopespic\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/04\/danhoopespic.jpg\")
\nABOUT THE AUTHOR<\/strong>
\nDan Hoopes<\/strong> was born in 1988 and occasionally writes satire for The Medium at Rutgers. He plans on moving to New York this summer.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"![\"danhoopespic\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/04\/danhoopespic-150x150.jpg\")
I wish the power lines really did hum,
\nthe remnant fields rolling like
\nfractured stormy seas, I wish
\nI were incarnate most of the time,
\nmilk-crates, ball courts, I hang
\nheavy on the bush like late-summer
\ntomatoes<\/p>\n
\nisn’t this unfathomable, like
\nthe outer reaches of some temporal galaxy
\ndo you see my sputtering stars?<\/p>\n