that time

a poet cries for no one and everyone at once
and she hadn't seen him there, but
he'd seen her and
he couldn't pass by any longer
she had nothing to say, not sorry-hello-
and he couldn't just wait anymore
leaves are rain in the winds of june
strange breeze brings things for what they're worth
upside out and inside down the world spins oddly tilted

for what it's worth, i would have stayed forever
would have lived a lie if it was you
uncomfortable was easy in your bed and
me was we in the context of your embrace
you know i miss you, yeah?
like before-blooms too deep to drink
my fears like wildfires quenched in your eyes
and to think i was surprised at the time
that i wanted to leave

under covers sinking ships are saved in the night
to sail another dawn, just one more moment
before becoming lost at sea
and moonlight pretends it's permanent while
seeping its way irreversibly into your skin
blood runs concealed under present, past and
we must take cover from impending future's flesh
each day that you rescue me from myself brings
me-- at once further and closer to truth
i'll take my time
to hide from you and watch you slowly fade
watercolor too thin to stay bold

my secrets like bruises stain my bare skin
and i know you mean well and the world
but i still won't let you see all of me.
it's hard to stop loving when i'm not sure
if i still do, ever did, maybe will...

been a while.

just found a bunch of old writing in random notebooks and such while packing to move. probably nothing worth remembering, but I'd rather have them on here than on random pieces of paper.

1)

I go to Salvation Army to buy things I don't need,

things no one ever needed and that's why they're there in the first place.

Sometimes they play decent songs and I'll bop along to the music

through rows of apple-printed teacher's vests and

century-old prom dresses and

suspenders too tiny or too huge for any normal-shaped person.

And these plants, are they plastic?

No, alive-ish, and dying, and so am I,

but aren't we all,

and I move on to the electric gadgets,

some working, some long dead,

first the large (why would I pay $700 for a moldy fridge when

i can get a fresh one and

a smile with more than two teeth in it

for less at Lowe's)

then the small (what the hell is this amalgamation,

hot-air hair curlers and jumper cables and a lamp had a baby?)

and then I see something I could maybe actually use,

a griddle, but it's dirty,

and the rest on this shelf,

the twin quesadilla makers and the George Foreman grill,

caked with greasy cheese residue, make me wonder

why people don't wash things before giving them away,

why people don't just use a fucking frying pan.

2)

love tumors in my brain,

and tomatoes in the garden,

grow slow and keep me sane--

but i hate them, beg your pardon.

up by veins and through by blood,

you creep slowly inside.

slice me open, organ flood;

inhibitions forced untied.

various kitchen utensils:

forks and spoons and knives,

force us to live in these stencils

leading our samehouseseperate lives.

set me free set me free set me free--

no, hold on tight, don't let me be me.

3)

you spoke like my never-had mother

you made me

want to write

want to write more

and look into eyes and

play with the dirt and

faint.

you made me feel.

made me want to wrap myself in

your metal skies and

taste your sweet silverglowing sweat

and dew

and damp

and bloom.

you made me.

4)

i'm not daughter

after four years of college, i know the difference between drunk and high

invaluable education

she and i aren't close

some letters to write

formal goodbyes

she said, "i didn't mean to ignore you."

5)

i can see the stars shifting west,

and you're here but i'm there and

we're everywhere but each other.

and my tablecloth shoes want to go back to the desert,

but the graves and the spaceships

and the half-done cigarettes and

i love you because.

6)

the what ifs are killing me

sinking their teeth into my

ams and ares and will be-s

and tearing the flesh off my is-s

they yesterday their way into my tomorrows

and they keep me from living today.

my heart used to beat, once.

what-next. what-next.

but it's slowed to a dull what-if.

7)

my thumbs have fallen off

but i am not worried.

when the first to go are the most important,

you do not bother yourself with the rest.

it will be easy when my mouth and

my knees and my eyebrows are gone.

easy when my everything follows suit

and finds somewhere easier to be.

8)

a room full of mirrors and i can't see myself.

air glows incandescent and i breathe neon.

a bullet could come through these walls,

any one of these walls.

i can't press this button.

bows and curtsies and i'm still alone.

my lungs are bleeding.

a bullet could shatter this glass.

i spin and i spin and i knock shit down and blow shit up and

sew my mouth open and

a bullet will come through these walls,

any one of these walls,

any one of these upsidedown days.

9)

there is a bird who sits on my shoulder

he pecks my eyes and my teeth

he won't go away

he has my face and he sits on my shoulder and

he won't go away

my neck is bare. my thoughts are glowing.

he won't go away

he am I and I are him and

I won't go away anymore