April 2013
0 posts
9 tags
Drip
Drip the drip on my shoe. Drip Their pipes are leaking. Drip This girl wants to dance. Drip This guy next to me wants to dance. Drip He looks like a Kevin. Drip Kevin is too shy to dance. Drip I wish I could dance. Drip My ankle is wet. Drip. Drip.
March 2013
16 posts
11 tags
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Every Woman on Earth is a Superhero
I am a sidekick
and women are heroes,
saving the world, one world
at a time.
How could I hope
to make
a duo
fit to save these streets?
I don’t have X-Ray eyes
or super strength
like every girl I meet.
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At the Base of Breck
At the base of Breckenridge,
I don’t see the snow stop the sky.
The two pages
share their perfect words;
the soft, unwritten sky
with the wrinkled wastepaper earth.
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Seasons in Seconds
Gathered the green of Spring
between fingers.
Watched Autumn orange
engulf the life of landscape.
Let warm Summer water
swim within me.
Added white Winter
to the inches underfoot.
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Blood of the Behemoth
The lights die on the giant’s hide.
I become lice, hiding,
clinging to wire hair.
Ice air stings me,
and cradles the creature.
Night stirs the blood of the behemoth.
My own bursts forth,
painting my flesh, freezing.
Arteries beat to the heart of
a beast,
out of the valley,
of the coal black below.
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The Price of Beauty (Building Snow II)
I leave due South today.
Did I fail?
In building what I dreamed,
did I succeed?
Touching the air, making it real.
Building each new.
Now dragged up by tires
and shaken from trees,
burying my first victim
in my new back yard:
his last tracks.
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Quitting Time (Final Snow)
Shaking in my car,
I wanted to be home
more than warm.
The first turn was easy,
done a thousand times before.
A second more?
Pound per inch less?
Either or, I guess.
My door faced due North
while it approached the tree,
I cried out
as the trees reached for me.
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Work Pays Off (Snow's Revenge)
I plan to work through the night.
It’s been some time
since a break.
At one point,
my eyes were drawn from my work
to watch the progress of familiar tracks.
The first, and then the last.
I’d left my work
on the air
to watch him slide, and see
that I, Brandon Knoble,
Architect,
had built my home
in his trail of snow.
My construction of his destruction.
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Driving to Work (In Snow)
The sun disappeared behind
the clouds, which I knew would come.
I smiled, while tracing
the spine of the mountain,
valley to peak
with hungry eyes.
Took the left at the stop,
and another at the sign,
and began to ascend.
My car graced
the cloud’s embrace
of the hill.
Slowly, almost one by one,
the snow fell and flew
in my path.
I left the first trail of the day
and...
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Brandon Knoble (Building Snow)
My fingers bleed and ache
aligning each crystalline structure.
I was sent up the mountain
for such purpose,
such promise!
Seeing, feeling each
frozen shard
snap in place,
as per diagrams,
deeply gratifies my being.
However, now
and then
an error occurs.
My white cargo,
dear work, tread upon
without second thought.
Touching the air,
making it real.
Building each new.
Why I waste
...
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And now for something completely different.
Some fresh stuff tonight, I figure most of these are as done as they’re going to get. The first five are kind of a five part poem I wanted to try (I have been listening to a lot of concept records lately, and the idea of a continuous story intrigues me). Everything after that is a bunch of nonsense I’ve been working on over the semester. Enjoy!
8 tags
January 2013
1 post
8 tags
A brief absence
I’m going to be taking a brief hiatus over the next couple months to focus on my writing and my classes. I’ll be spending this time writing and editing what poems I have and will be posting them periodically (depending on when I feel they’re finished).
But fear not. Ask me some things, I’d love to hear from my old and new followers!
December 2012
11 posts
13 tags
The Faux Sober
My father, dreamer.
My brother, dancer.
The prance: the Faux Sober.
The former, of sleep,
will continue the beat,
while the latter, of liquor,
lies with two left feet.
Come and chat while we are online! We're chatting... →
withknowledgeofthesituation:
withknowledgeofthesituation:
PARTY PARTY PARTY PARTY PARTY
PARTY? PARTY
Party
Come and chat while we are online! We're chatting... →
withknowledgeofthesituation:
PARTY PARTY PARTY PARTY PARTY
I’m here too
withknowledgeofthesituation:
I don’t care what anyone says, Christmas in Hollis by Run-DMC is the only acceptable Christmas song. Merry Christmas everyone!
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Perfect
She’s perfect.
Her hair is perfect.
Her laugh is perfect.
Her smile is perfect.
Her body is perfect.
Her nose is perfect.
Her teeth are perfct.
Her eyes are prefcet.
Her legs are rpfecte.
Her ankles are fpretct.
Her voice is ptddwif.
Isn’t she?
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Teddy Bear Suicide
A key to the throat
never gets the job done.
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Road Kill II
Deer on 99;
Dealer on Main Street.
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Road Kill (revision)
Blood on the pavement;
A rose, blooming.
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Do You Know (For Mom)
Do you know
where I go
when the ocean waves
grow too high?
Do you know
about your uncontrollable laughter
after you remember
funny stories of your daughter?
I remember
when I’m drowning with my anchor.
Days have come and gone,
it’s not hard to see
between seas and dawn
your light guides to shore.
Do you know
you bring me home?
Do you know
you help me float?
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Road Kill
For days
the rose
will grow.
November 2012
4 posts
12 tags
The Church
The church of eternal life.
The church of salvation.
The church of my father.
The church of God.
The church of the broken.
The church of the beaten.
The church of the damned.
The church of open arms.
The walls that held me.
10 tags
The Absence of Love
Writing in the absence of love
tows a growing abscess
of poor tidings
most won’t mind to avoid.
13 tags
Fairy-Tale Ending
The scene is set:
see Prince Charming
examine the smooth arches
of Cinderella’s soot-laden soles.
See the smile of assurance
announcing a celebration
of a fairy-tale ending.
See another servant
you don’t see in the movie
who lost first love
to this fairy-tale ending.
A few thoughts on Tumblr Writing Elitism →
ordinarywonder:
Do you ever think that maybe you’re taking Tumblr a little too seriously, in artistic terms I mean? For all intents and purposes, this is merely a blogging platform. Not the HQ for the new golden age. I mean, I get your message. Yes, professional, and academic writing does require standards. Why? Because that’s a standardized industry (necessarily so because it’s a consumer...
October 2012
10 posts
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Sonnet Exercise
There was a boy who tried to write a sonnet,
yet could not fix his gaze upon it.
He tried all kinds of rhymes, and failed to see
a way to write the words to make it right.
After class, the boy walked up to me
and asked if I could spare a word or two.
I shared with him some things that he could write
about that most people these days relate to,
imagining the journey he would have had
if he had...
9 tags
Seeing Sounds (Sound Exercise)
I’m seeing sounds
on the front page
newspaper
says to be there
or be square.
The share of
the headlines
need refunds
from poor brides.
Though most guys
are tough guys,
in a beehive
they
all
die.
Seeing sounds
all around,
by the pound
and hand-me-down.
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Writer's Gush
Some days, I fear
my words
may stray
too deep.
I write,
rewrite,
revise,
and by the time
it’s complete
my portrait
bleeds.
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11 tags
Dropped Dollar Revisited
The dollar I found in the street,
now dry,
now clean,
is grace.
Her face
fixed in peace
and each crease
and wrinkle
work themselves out
in my wallet.
Then I remember
someone lost this dollar
and maybe
I don’t deserve her.
I can lose her
and get change
or give her
and trust
in a younger man’s hands
to see to her better use.
Besides,
she craves
to be whole.
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September 2012
19 posts
11 tags
