the writings of blake ellington larson

yo vivo en san diego

Chester y yo estamos soñando grandes

Podríamos incluso hacer un jardín de hierbas

Pronto nos haremos amigos con las abejas

fuck the castle

I have a hat

I do not wear my hat

my old world blues

is spelt

sent and drift

tucked and drugged

tuthered ‘n such

I can’t stop breathing

it’s like everything inside me

just wants to

get away

I am


many postcards

to you

and who

I was


oh, memory, you sleepy sith

you tired traveler, you distant warrior, you imaginary me, (you turn into dreams, don’t you know?) like a river, I collect and let go of everything you have to offer, we’re cool like that, you and me and our collective un belief, you and I and our collective acceptance, you and I and our shared sun. you the moon to my earth, but, I remember, I do, and there you go again –

how evil the sun

shone so darkly powerful

in it’s brilliant defiance

of my grief

you are

where I’m at

my greatest image of you is

not a picture frame worthy

I am a lone cowboy

I do not have the photos

to prove it

I am an endless drought

of surging inspiration


of all things

music is memory

don’t pick the flowers

let it rain

elevator soul

glimmer and switch

glitter and twitch

wrestle with which

we were night’s welcomed dew

the two

of us


yr strings paint brushes

and you




like you

I’m a nervous castle

like gristle on the grapevine

we were taut and taunt

ween and want


my future tattoo:

I said kiss me you are beautiful

these are truly the last days

you grabbed my hand

and we fell into it

like a daydream or a fever

dear spirit/thunder

test me

I will best you

it was a new kind of dark

a poloroid postcard

a cardboard cut-out

neon dusk

in the autumn sun

when I go deaf

won’t you join me

fireball and all

shit and solace

steel mojitos around

we’ll toast the captain

set sail for spain

search for mermaids

herbie, the one eyed pirate shih tzu


survived katrina

but not the anesthesia

perched on the corner of the bed

with the cone of shame on

the last time I saw him


every time I hear a siren

feels like

you’ve been


your breath

ever since

you died

I am faded paper

limestone and yellow’d I am the sun and the strawberry moon and I collect daisies on the daydream walks I take from memory makes me hungry for Spring’s late night butterfly’s and I am nothing paper like steaming coffee or tea or perhaps there is no daydream and it’s always winter makes me fonder for the subtle things like mint and I have to wash my hands again

my new poem is not the song of the river

bloom and cotton

your final burden

exit:  stage left

enter:  curtain

bloom and cotton

your final curtain

exit:  stage left

enter:  burden

my butterflies are quiet

it’s not the wind

wakes ’em up

in the morning

my first thought is anxious

it collides with the pages in my cloud memory like books and cobwebs and candles and the smell of old wood and everything up close looks like words I’m making up in the moment and there’s no end to the wind

music is memory

let it sink in

I am a cloud of indecision

my antlers and my spirit animal dreams like cotton spread out abounding my mattress in kitty whisper nap time for years the alarm has been going off and we’re just about daybreak and the napkins aren’t enough this wind is treachery I’m glad we’re set studied on nervous noise and not that damned clicking from the window it is drowning the smell of old europe and I’m still not used to it damn the bridges and the locked doors and why am I on this ratchety train it smells like newspapers and sweat and that pigeon keeps staring at me and the clutter in the mildew like dew in the mornings is but fog on my windshield keeps catching up with me

people are like spiderwebs

carry a toothpick

I am the nothing dragon

hear me roar

two sunflowers

in the shade of

each other

taking turns


the sun

my new wind is blank paper

it shuffles to the sound water makes

makes clear what





my new heart is blown glass

it bows to the sound of winter

keeps cool-through

crescent moons




for Autumn’s


and frogs

yr love is the blanket of sun

keeps me

invisible warm

I am the nothing jasmine

and you are the cure

found a new home without you

like throwing rocks and gravel

this place

keeps changing

this island

isn’t us


i am haunt




when our souls were ships


yr parents took us to kawaii

and you were afraid of

deep sea diving

so we stuck to the waterfalls

and our guitars

and we came up with a shared philosophy;

the burden is upon us

and like the oddballs we were

I still have photos of us

smiling, when

we got into that airplane



we would die


my soul crux

my perpetual

soul crux

gets lost in you

truth, he said

tastes a lot like


we have roots

we grow


days are like rivers that

slow down enough

for you to

write on them


is a powerful beast

the trouble with writing songs is

sometimes they

go boom

my thoughts are all but colorwise

sadness, though

shone like a rainbow

when you called

grief is not guilt

it is not malice

it is love

pure love



waits for no one

save the horses

save the world

celebrate everyone

you know

who you are

celebrate everything

you know

who you are

my spirit is the avalanche

keeps me covered

yr spirit is the blanket

keeps me covered

sometimes, when I dive into you

it’s like breathing under water

but, most of the time

in life and in death

come wander with me

the Salvage King

you and I

forever in search

of calm

if horses were feathers

I’d make a raincoat

out of the songs

you left behind

art is process



yr songs make the rain in my heart


the sky is beautiful

I wish you were her

I was sick with love

made like a balloon

I drifted to sidewalks

where she found me

the difference between life and death is

I get to swallow you

dear dark

it is not yr crimson glow

draws me to yr furnace

I am not

breathing for you

I am not trees

not the feet

you will meet

I am not my heart

it’s you

yr steel thunder

is the marsh mellow

to my silver lining

I’m thinking backwards

I’m looking forwards

to you

I don’t play with fire


dear dark

I am not your foldboy

this is not laundry-town

I have a bus ticket

yr spirit

is the pinata

that hangs in the breeze

and someday

yr candy

will shower me

the inside words

say little of the wind

and the dew

and you

and i

when i sleep

you are still alive

warranted, you

arrest me

pooh bear and i

didn’t suck our thumbs forever

we were playing the long game

on stage and in private

we had each other’s scratchy backs

as they say


one of us got caught

one of us

with their hand in the honey pot


the whole time

my skin is all over the place

like a baked lemon on a soft day

like a persimmon

in the neon sun

used to write poems on postcards

in the dark of the porch

staring at that photo of us

sitting in the sun

yr in my clouds

and my thoughts are clouds

and so are you

you can’t just press a leaf and hope it dries

it has to live a little

it has to know the sun’s heat

there will come a time when someone

will ask you

what is this dried for?

you have it so neatly displayed

is this the smell of comfort?

are you a time traveler?

have you been sent from

a half-dream

blinded by light?

do you know what year it is?

who is our president?

what color am i holding?

all i need is

a blank stage of postcard paper

a stack of some thirty ought six

or whatever

i need to make notes

this apocalypse is killing me

we had to take her car

’cause you were gone

and we couldn’t find you

i remember walking the train tracks

for no reason

we were so worried

we had to take her car

your ghosts are pillows

i didn’t intend

i am a man of stone

i know

where i come from

dear self

you are younger now

our love




(i do not know the cold like you know the cold)

everyone who’s ever loved me

still loves me

like an avalanche

you still me

to the bone

my greatest diatribe consists

soft air like sith

soft air like silk

two colors describe

what it is

to go with out

thirteen years ago to the minute

i was sleeping in my bed with a girl

we both had red dresses on

it was a hot summer

and a long story

i miss you amy

fuck you world

dear dark cliff

stay off



i shed the haunt

i wrestle with want

i am

and i am not


when you got nothing to run to

you run from everything

sometimes it gets so quiet

i could throw a stone

my heart is the octopus guides me home to you

my pank-blast furnace

loves the technicolor in you

it wades dark movies – light

clips the clips

i set yr leaves

atop plops that ground yr gristle into soft light

i don’t mind

it was just a song

the fire waits

(for ray)

my forever is a little black book

i snuck into the fireplace

when you weren’t looking

i was awash in the great jet lag of your death

when it kicked in