He ate mozzarella cheese on wafers. In his white pajamas. On a cloud. Was he dead? Yes, he was dead.
We tried so hard to hold on to the roast beef horseradish afternoon sun crusty bread lemon merengue pie memory even as the strong wind of time blew it from us, even as death touched us on the shoulders and pointed over the low hills.
my chiropractor is indian
with a formal english vocabulary under a heavy accent
so he can get away with saying these things
“you have such a lovely young body
that i do not imagine at your age you are single very often for very long
so make sure the next man that you see is spiritual”
i do not visit him often
because he does not keep his voice down
“every time you are angry, write a love poem.”
once i honked at a car
who cut off mine & scared me
the man got back into the other lane
rolled down his window, shouted, ‘i’m sorry’
i felt so terrible
most people are basically good
(but it’s such an easy thing to forget
Instead of writing about branch, I decided to draw a branch. I’m a branch drawing maniac. The results are on my tumblr. am I allowed to post the link? It took longer than a minute to draw. I hope I don’t get shot. Don’t worry; I’m a good oneword contributor. The link’s friendly.
and he takes me in honesty
(and that is all there is to say on the matter)
my first and only violent love
was a schoolyard boy named david
whose father shot himself on a baseball field
he cried until he choked me
and then he said sorry
and held me tighter
The trees bent down so low, he thought they were going to tie his shoes for him. Then he realized they were giving him a present: a robot, made entirely of twigs, with a tiny wooden face and the cutest pair of bark underpants.
i am terrified for the day he realizes i don’t exist
but i think he already suspects it
remember the nights of poetry
books&books and hours&hours
quoting the good ones to each other, until we degenerated back into just-ourselves
fuck me like you’re alan watts
(the memory ends –
stoned sneaking out your second-floor window because your mother’s home from her chinese classes at community college, you were a necessary right-of-passage
that i should miss
but i don’t
(i think this was our first time, but fights don’t come easy to him)
always speaking honest to each other is a really good start
but i get caught in poetry & abstractions and then we forget to settle on the same vocabulary again, i am poor at being plain and he has no obligation to be present to me
there is still some arabic in my head
and it doesn’t help the problem any, but i translate my thoughts back and forth
to pass the time between realizing he doesn’t mean to do me harm
and remembering even succulents die
either she fills the silence or i do
we are quiet enough that my noise & hers does not intersect
(living in small spaces without headphones)
driving 95 flipping off semis, because i’m without the boy that keeps me good
(he really isn’t all that far away, i just crawled out of his bed)
but this is the new one night stand, the kind that takes you past city limits
i-love-you interpreted as “i understand you, & thank you for understanding me”
\ never finished
I was supposed to resemble a goddess.. glistening and glorious with a majesty, grace and beauty no one could deny.. my tresses were curled in a tangle of desire around my dewy golden face. I glided into the room. The party seemed to pause … then I heard my husband’s booming voice “Christ love, you look like an oompa loompa, how much of that fake tan stuff did you use?”
Today is destined to roll out in exactly the way it will. I will keep focussed, I will keep positive, I will motivate and encourage all those who I encounter. I am determined that this day will be smooth and wonderful for all of those I encounter.
I am listening to the fog in myself.
It sounds like two mice are about.
They have dew in their whiskers
and they are discussing the moss.
One of them holds up a lichen umbrella
and does a funny sad dance.
They had started to crumble. the mortar was weak. the edges were chipping, cracking, busting apart until soon the very foundations would be destroyed. a lazy comment, a rebuff, a rebuke … this was kryptonite to the health of US.
puts the red lipstick on too heavy, kisses off the excess into her inner wrist
lana del rey on the stereo & a boho beauty in front of me smoking her menthols
cross-legged on the wooden floorboards in the frontroom, no furniture,
she says ‘don’t tell me you love me until after’
sitting flipping half-naked through vintage victorian anatomical art, she says, ‘this will be my next tattoo’
points to a long-stemmed perennial in an old botanists’ catalouge
her jazz musician boyfriend comes in, she laughs, her bracelets chiming, metal-on-metal, pulls him down by the forearm & crawls onto his lap
i don’t love her at all
(nothing left to do but lay down & i do, spine & the floor, missing my own musician like he was dead, daydream he’s playing a gig instead)
every shower is a bic razor
and a routine of crushing four aspirin tablets in my palm, because i never replaced the face wash that ran empty two years ago–
we were underage then but we made our own wine, (he kisses me and says we always have the most fun, i always have the most fun with you)
except i don’t remember him and he doesn’t remember me, standing naked warm under water with a new body he wouldn’t know
(longer, whiter, curvier, the excitation of new youth settled into plain proportions, i would be a virgin to him if we met again)
stretching onto my toes thinking of someone else in his place,
this is how strangers are
- Load More