worms are the words

2011-12-15T01:43:00.001-08:00

I do not writewhen I am in lovewhen I am heartbrokenwhen I am curious, optimistic and giddyor missing, actively, your closenessor empty and dryunder the pillowsall afternoon escapingIt is only late at nightor early in the morningwhen my heart is quietand still and darklike deep watersand there is no real hurryto show the colorsof the passing moodand anyway the colorsare not anything likethe opaque and textured redsand blacks and yellows of passion and piercing painbut the soft and muddled blue and green of sentimentalityof contented longingwhen everything is in washes.

Daddy

2011-11-30T21:04:00.001-08:00

Daddy
I only said the word to the empty nights
As if you would come to make any of it right
if you could- make my brow un-furrow
my fists unfurl
take the world off the shoulders
of your sad little girl
A word like a blanket
A word that I said
only to the blackness
that engulfed my bed
your absence was the weight
to my world
kept my feet on the ground,
kept it all in a whirl
I thought I'd be your pearl
Now you lie under sod with a stone
overhead
that stone says Daddy to no one
Daddy is dead.

lines

2011-11-07T12:03:00.001-08:00

We never know where the end of the line is
Whether it is us, whether it is here
Or if the line goes on through us
And this is the middle
Or near one edge somewhere
All we know is what’s behind
And even that is distorted
Probably more than we would guess.

In my line are architects
who build sturdy loves
build them up until they’re
high enough to look up to
and then the rest of life
was just taking care of each other.

They only really loved once
And since they built it so high
Everything else was in the shadows.
I have loved four men
Four loves with mingled shadows
None towering and none sturdy.

One
I ironed his trousers
And woke with him at 5 for his shift
Too early for breakfast, so I watched him
Brush his teeth with one eye open.
He introduced me to the ocean
And to my own father
And talked about our love as a deal.
We wept when it was over
And it took almost two years
For me to take down the bricks.
I think about him every day
With a different kind of love.

Two
We loved each other in pieces:
Congruent, regular, consistent,
But inconsistently scattered
Little triangles of love, obtuse
So much love, dwindling to a point.
We drank a lot of tea and tried to get each other
To stand up straighter
Until around each other
We slouched more than ever before.
And I go away each time afraid
That someone will put this love to shame.

Three
We swam, we stayed up till six
Watching foreign films and taking baths
And writing love poems
Moved to Williamsburg
Saw plays, ate pasta
Took the train to Jersey where I picked out dishes
And furniture.
When it was over we held each other
On that couch I picked out and cried for hours.
I see him sometimes and the recognition
Of who he was once to me only
Sometimes flickers and then is gone.

Four
We recognized each other immediately
The night we met in the dark.
We talked on the phone five hours a day
Until he came and filled his suitcase with my clothes
And books and beads, flew them home
And we made each other into family
So close we didn’t have to be too nice
Talk friendly all the time.
The times we sobbed into each other’s neck-
We cried ourselves dry.
Our love dissolved into a dune
At the mercy of the wind.

That’s the line until this present moment
Where I sit in this tiny little part
Of time and space
And imagine putting those loves in shade
And imagine that the line goes forward
Forward further than behind even
Or imagine that it stops now.

looking for the next thing

2011-10-22T13:13:00.000-07:00

This could very well be it
Who knows where our days will take us
I may lock eyes with someone in line
There are so many lines to stand in
There are so many people looking
For the next thing
Sometimes I am looking back
Hoping someone will be better than you
At making me feel something
Or you may strike up a conversation
With a girl in your class
And that will be the beginning
Of the end for us
I’m just going to the market
To get some things for the soup
(carrots and celery, really that’s it
we got everything else the other day)
do you want anything?

Nothing is Small

2011-08-05T13:47:00.001-07:00

There are whole mornings like this
swimming from room to room
feeling like I could will myself
to fly, nothing feels real
in the face of life or death.

I sit at the window
but close the blinds.
There are whole mornings like this
almost every day now.

I'm waiting all day
for the evening
when I walk up through the hills
and look out over this city
having done something difficult.

Nothing is small in the face of love-
Nothing is quiet and nothing casual.
A walk is not a walk
forever and never take up all the space
the here and now would occupy.
and everything is difficult
and everything is important.

You Say Yes

2011-08-05T10:38:00.000-07:00

Yes is the word you say
You say yes, you say
Yes! When there is doubt
When you could say no
You don’t say no anymore
When something in you
Says no you turn it into a flower
You picture paper-like poppies
In intricate detail
And now its no longer no it’s a flower
And then you say yes.

There is Nothing new Under the Sun

2011-07-29T12:35:00.002-07:00

What has been will be again,
What has been done will be done again;
There is nothing new under the sun.
-Ecclesiastes 1:9

You’ve gone again and left me with all the weight
Of our love that is Sunday afternoon and your long eyelashes
And my golden arm against yours, milky white, in the bath
And our sometimes everything communion with god
The kind of oneness that loses you
Are you still listening?
I clear my throat, I shake you and study your face
And know you are gone
So I shoulder our love alone
Until you come back sometimes in a moment, blinking
Sometimes in a year, calling me honey out of habit
And pretending something is different when nothing ever is:
There’s nothing new under the sun-
Just a bunch of fractals, reflections of filaments
A funhouse of mirrors- we distort ourselves
And our love to fit the space we allot for it.

Teach me to be a Woman

2011-07-29T12:35:00.001-07:00

Do I weep less or more on the shower floor?
Should my hips be swaying when I walk?
Do I give always more and more and more
Yet still lounge like a cat and purr when I talk?
Do I spend days making bread in the kitchen
In high heels, fingers covered in rings?
Is there any hope at all for me
if I don’t sound like a bird when I sing?
What if I growl and I pout and I bleed?
And I leave all the dishes in the sink
What if I sweat and what if I curse
And what if I’m strong and what if I stink?
Should I grow my hair long and braid it
And paint my nails all shades of pink?
Can I still swim in the surf? Would it negate all my worth
If I take too much time out to think?

2011-06-19T08:19:00.000-07:00

This is not a house it is a dream
and you, Rissa, with your pieced together family
may live in it come the first of July
but it will remain my dream.

the doorknob in the bathroom only turns to the right.

that little plant to the left of the front porch,
under the bush with the rose bush growing out of it,
is rue. To keep the mosquitoes away.

the fireflies come out at night if you sit out under
the pecan tree. The squirrels eat the pecans
before they fall- every one. so don't get excited.
Or make plans for pie.
Firefly larvae are called glowworms.

pecan trees are self grooming. This means swings
will fall off with limbs attached.

the garden needs water every night.
that hose. You will have to learn the ways of that hose
yourself. It has been cooked into kinks and will never
be right. turn on the front faucet with your own pliers.

This is important. Bo and Al live in the yard. Al is the small one.
He is partial to the tomato plant on the porch, but Bo
who is fat, likes the underside of the cucumber leaves best.
You will only see them at night. They are my dream but I leave them with you.

The frogs who live in the pond next door are louder than you can ever imagine.
Where do they go in the daytime? If you find out send word.

There is a board on the kitchen side of the hallway near the bathroom door
that squeaks any time you step on it on your way to the bathroom in the middle
of the night.

the bathroom window needs a screen. If you leave it open a giant water bug
will indefinitely await you. And they fly.

a bird lives outside the little bedroom (the windows don't open).
This bird will wake you minutes before your alarm every time.

Thunderbird coffee has the best lattes I've ever had.
and the worst live music.

I put all of these holes in this wall.

The tree in the front yard died and was a stump for a while.
Then it grew into a bush and all the neighbors hated it.
Now it is a tree again, and beautiful. If you want to know
what kind of tree, ask Joel, two doors down. He has a book.

Desmond lives at the end of the block. He will take the chickens
that I dreamed up with the blue eggs. His eyes match the bluest ones.
You may keep the pile of eggs Maybelline has left somewhere in the yard while Georgette hogged the laying box she preferred. (I can't find them.)

Get caught in a heavy downpour at least once while in the shed.
The tin roof is heavenly.

The front porch is perfect for Sunday mornings or late nights.
If one of your best friends dies tragically, eat some caviar
on the sidewalk under the full moon.

too tall

2011-06-19T08:07:00.000-07:00

Everyone pairs off
But I awake at nine
Alone, a match for
Nobody what with
Such a tall standing
Spirit demanding to
Be looked square in
The eye. Demanding
That yours stand up
Straight all the time.

2011-06-04T09:26:00.000-07:00

the kind of love you can only have for an acquaintance
and only if you're a man
and only if you're the kind of man who needs a myth
and only if the myth you love is everything you've snuffed out in me.

2011-06-04T09:13:00.000-07:00

remember when i was afraid of the sun hitting the water
wouldnt move through the refracted light, terrified
because light isnt supposed to loook like that
move like that

there is light all over me now in lines with sharp corners
blinds to keep it out but it comes right through
i let it into my navel so my womb glows
and stop using words like never

at night i sleep with the shadeless lamp on
not never dark but always light.

wallace stevens

2011-03-07T16:00:00.000-08:00

we all have to do something
because nothing doesn't exist
but man made up sundays
and man made up god
and man stands on the mountains
and points to the stars.
Good.
someone is doing that.
i will drop crumbs
of chocolate on wallace stevens
and not leave my house
and that will be the thing i am doing.
and even though it is monday
man made up monday
and wallace stevens made up god
and what good is pointing to the stars?

sunday

2011-03-07T14:52:00.000-08:00

it's the different weight of monday
that makes the breeze not blow
through the chimes in the trees
although it's windy when you walk
through the hills.
it's the change of light that makes coffee
on sunday an event but on monday
an activity.
i don't want to live in mondays.
come read the LA Times with me
without thinking about such things
as what you should be doing
or what you will be doing monday.

the story of my life

2011-02-05T13:13:00.001-08:00

There the flowers are dying
And there I am not learning French
And there is a pile of pens, some that don’t write
Petty displeasures bring real dissatisfaction
I want to dance now
But there is nowhere to dance
Where I will not be seen
And judged.

I am afraid of judgment
Because I was never loved enough
Because as a child my eye was too keen
Or maybe because I shared my birth
With someone else who was always there
Taking some of my love, some of my blood
Some of my room in the womb
And he took a lot of the love
More than his fair share
And my eyes were too keen
Maybe it was both of those
That started this mess.

The world my mother lived in
Was an ugly one
There were dead flowers
That were not even flowers
She said they were weeds
When I gave them to her in bundles
I said love me in a thousand different ways
But she never could hear me
Never could love me until I grew up
And looked down into her eyes
With coldness, my jaw hard
My soul dark and bitter.
And even then it was something
like pity and regret.

Sometimes I don’t wish to be loved
So much as I wish to have been loved
To have had a mother who knew better
Than to have paraded such blackness in front of me
And allowed me to be dragged
For so many years, such important years,
Through that violent hateful road
By those weak mean men
Who couldn’t stand that keen eye
That set jaw I had at seven
The defiance I showed in the face of the belt.

Look what you did to me
You weak pathetic man
You snuffed out so much life in me
That my blood barely moves even now
magnified on the screen.
Twenty years later my fire hardly burns.

If you ever die I will weep
For your six year old self
Who needed a mother- you fathered me
Like you were mothered
Not having the wherewithal to do it better
And you must have been broken to bits
To have done what you did
So very many years later.
If you ever die I will weep for that
And for the day you brought us packaged cookies
And we thought we might have a father
A family
And for the first time you humiliated me
And the embarrassment I felt
Me at six, like you at six
Our poor souls, broken so early
If you ever die I will look into your gray face
And try to forgive you your ugliness
That cost me my life.

My kindergarten teacher talked to me
With a slightly raised pitch
That I didn’t understand
It is the way most people talk to children
Most people talked to us like we were evil
Because we were dirty and poor and always late
My kindergarten teacher talked to me
Like she wanted me to like her
And it bewildered me.

There are only a few flowers left on the little red plant
The rest of them are shriveled and dead
The music has stopped and I no longer want to dance.

I make myself tea, and every time I do
I am angry that my mother never taught me
To cover the tea as it steeps.
My mother doesn’t like tea of any kind
And I am angry at her for that too
For lacking anything I can be proud of
Or find sophisticated or clever
I changed her more than anyone has
The last of her children, and the darkest
Forced her to grow, disciplined her
With my sharp tongue-
She talked like an uneducated hick
For forty years until I scolded her
Enough times, her grammar
Her words shaped all wrong
It’s not worsher, not worter mother.
She never taught me a single thing
Except for what not to do
By example, exactly how not to live.

Yes, I am angry at the world
For the flowers that dare to die on my table
For the people who get in my way who dare exist
For my body for thinking it is dead
For the happy people who had a chance
Who went so school, who had new shoes
Who were held when they wept
Who didn’t worry about money when they were children
Angry at my anger even, my inability to let it go
Angry at life for not being prettier
For not being anything like utopia
At anyone, everyone, for not living up to their potential
Or even trying to be as great
At love for being such a painful empty thing
At any opinion, any ignorance
But most angry at eyes that don’t look.

I went to find my real father
The songwriter, the mean one
The one with the cleft in his chin
And the cheekbones
She said I was just like him
Through clenched teeth she said it
And she hated him
He was mean, she said
And she said mean with narrow eyes
And narrow lips
And she shook her head
So I treasured the idea of him
I made him into a god
The ideal man- good like a cowboy is good
A poet, misunderstood
With sad kind eyes, but a drinker
I finally found him and he was nothing like that
But he had seeing eyes
He never loved me but he had seeing eyes
And he died just in time.

If my mother ever dies it will be the end of me
Nobody ever loved a person more
I rubbed her calloused feet at night
Her back through that Neil Diamond tshirt
Her toes formed a point on each pad
From the heels she handed out drinks in
Mine are starting to do that too
So I do the math and calculate how much time I have
I used to cry at the thought of her dying
At the thought of her working so hard
At the things I heard people say about her, about us
I always knew I was stronger than her
Always wanted to protect her
Until I started using my own tongue
To knock her down a peg.
If she ever dies I will weep for that
Just like I used to
For her ignorance that makes her innocent
For the happiness she never had the sense to strive for.

No man will ever be my father
If he handed me the world even
He would only be god
If any man ever says the word to me again
I will look him dead in the eye
And pour into him every ounce of pain
And humility and deafening rage
And every bitter tear ever cried
Every bit of me that has ever been touched
By the idea of daddy
And I will say is that what you think you are?
No man will ever be.

I mothered myself.
I rocked myself to sleep, singing
Have you ever been called white trash?
Will there ever be a time when you are ashamed
Of your shoes? Your car? Your mother?
You live like that a year and tell me then
That you know how the universe works.

The one man who adored me
Breathed Budweiser in my face
All the broken men, the big broken babies
And with shame like you’ll never know
I looked up at him and smiled
Sheepishly I smiled
Smiled like I thought it was ok.
So as not to embarrass him
He was the only one who said a word
Those nights I was beat for spilling my milk
I’ll show you no use crying
I wept bitterly, hatefully
The one man who said a word in my defense
Didn’t say it very loudly.

Now I am a grown woman
Drinking tea with honey from the farmers market
So hoping I can climb out of this hole
So hoping I can look the world in the face
With out this darkness leaking out.
I know I was bright once
And filled with nothing but love
And trust- didn’t I ever trust
That life could be a nice thing?

2011-01-27T01:52:00.001-08:00

All of my loves are whirls.
I am a wheel.
I am in love with the world.
I want one to be real.

2011-01-27T00:58:00.000-08:00

the sound of water hitting water
and then i miss you
the thought of being anywhere lovely
doing anything great
and then i miss you.

attempting to straddle the brinks of abysses

2011-01-20T15:01:00.000-08:00

squeeze me tightly so i cannot breathe
and, while you are squeezing me, roll me up
into a little ball and stuff me full of yesterday
and keep unraveling time until tomorrow comes with it
and cram it all into the tiny ball that is me.
i want to swallow up texas and italy and paris and prague
and california, the oceans the skies, the stars
i want all of time and space to come crashing back into me
and implode back into nothingness
where it belongs.
all of this rushing to reach the place
where time is unraveling from its ball
and attempting to straddle the brinks of abysses
that are too vast for human legs
to catch the expansion before it escapes-
i want it all back
i want to be back
to be squeezed so tightly i cannot breathe
with all of time and space inside of me.

i recognized myself tonight

2011-01-15T02:48:00.001-08:00

I recognized myself tonight
In the way jeff smiled at his new wife
And in the life of the party
That was not one person-
that was our laughter and lulls
and laughter again. Our smiles.
Our warmth rising up
And settling back down
Before saying goodnight
Lets do this again
Lets do it every week
Same people.

I recognized myself tonight
Looking at Adam
Whom I always knew
He held me once as I wept
In the darkness
And once we were darkness
Suspicious and a little bit stale
A little bit hardened
But only around the softest parts
Our hearts quietly hopeful
His smile tonight was gold
He put a diamond on pretty Allison’s finger.

I recognized myself and it’s been so long
Since my face hurt from smiling
since there was anything but soot
in my dirty chimney heart
any elbow room at all
for clumsy happiness
stumbling along stupidly
feeling around for light switches
along walls that aren’t there.

to the tune of famouse blue raincoat

2011-01-10T13:56:00.002-08:00

You took me off the mantel and you put me in a box
You shipped me off up North and you left me there to rot
And I burned you in a fire and turned back all my clocks
Fell in love with someone else and said that I’d forgot.

But I’ve come home to Los Angeles and I woke to find rain
Falling in fat drops on the banana trees and palms
And with out really meaning to I remember you again
But by noon the rain will stop and I’ll be left with just the calm.

famililarity

2011-01-10T13:56:00.001-08:00

That’s just the way it goes sometimes
You sometimes will wake in the late morning light
In a bed you’ve not laid in in quite a while
Next to a man who held all of your heart
Once in his tight fist
And then gave most of it back to you
Seemingly scarred forever
The first thing your eyes will rest on
Upon opening
Will be the pair of paintings
You’ve stared for so very many
Cumulative seconds at
And it will feel as if no time at all
Has passed since you last
Traced those wispy shapes with your pupils
And though you will expect to feel this
As a sharp blow to that still bruised heart of yours
You will instead feel only quiet
And, being the first to get out of bed,
Will turn on the faucet to that so familiar bathtub
And sigh a little deeper.

hoarse and weak

2011-01-10T13:55:00.001-08:00

In a voice hoarse and weak
Barely able to speak
I begged god, like a child,
Just one word: please
He knew what it meant
Cause I’d asked it before-
God give me the will to live.
He said yes then forgive
So I tried that for years
It was like searching for gold
In the desert, my faith
Not my reason pushing me on.
Now I don’t know
If forgiveness is real
Or how I should feel
When my mother says
Just come home.

apollo's pen

2011-01-10T13:54:00.001-08:00

I’ll give you everything except my pen
Apollo wants it back before I die
He turned me into a winter wren
But somehow something must have gone awry
I was left without a voice, just this plume and a bird’s eye
And too small a well of ink for such a vast mackarel sky.

I petitioned him with thousands of amens
Using eau de vie to refresh my ink supply
I sent these prayers time and time again
He hoarded them for years, all bundled in my sighs
They warped from all the tears but now they are bone dry
Like the red winged black birds that fell from the sky.

I’d give anything to be made whole again
But I possess nothing but this time
That heals all wounds, yes, but then un-mends
And, anyway, never was really mine.
Time that has its fingers in everybody’s pies
That waits for no man, only time doesn’t die.

mythic

2011-01-10T13:51:00.001-08:00

I haven’t made you mythic yet
As that takes time, pain and regret
In fluctuating amounts and to varying degrees
But it wont be long before your eyes
Are no longer blue-gray but blue as the skies
And you are as handsome and invulnerable as Achilles.

But I’ve always been the fifth muse
And if I can help it this time I’ll choose
To be the myth myself and let you be
I’ll make of us a more paradisal pattern
Like the Golden Age of Ops and Saturn
And we’ll have a much less violent family tree.

2011-01-03T13:14:00.000-08:00

the postman is coming by, always so cheerful
with his stacks of junk mail that do feel better
than peering into the black bottom of the mail box
but i forget
because when i open the lid and shuffle through
the possibility of a letter
only to find department store coupons
for things only the too comfortable would want
the thud-like momentary quiet is hidden
under the shuffling around and sifting through
of hope.

promise, implied

2011-01-03T11:38:00.000-08:00

there is promise, implied, in this new year
gleaned from various horoscopes and friends'
insistence that any day now things are going
to work out, which could be no more valid than
the missionaries I met as a child who, with
their infectious confidence brainwashed us all.
There are signs from God I find like surprises
tucked away in secret places I come across
now and then- signs that possibly say "I am
paying attention," and also something else,
something incoherent I assume will be sharper
in hindsight, but that I take as a promise.
But I hope God isn't like a lover who avoids
eye contact when you bring up Thanksgiving
and lets his promise, implied, break along
with your red ripe too-fair wrung out heart.

I tell myself now as many times as it takes
that I am safe and strong and stable, I am.
to prepare for this new era, I sit quietly
listening to the clock when it is being loud
Not knowing what direction it'll come from
and, really, half expecting it to pounce on
me in the middle of the night- this vague
possibility of some kind of a promise, implied.

loud

2011-01-03T11:28:00.000-08:00

the clock is always there
on the table next to my bed
my head just a foot away
the little shiny square black box
just like my mother had
but i do not always hear it tick
and i do not always hear the scream
silence brings out, like the highest string
on a violin perpetually played
but sometimes these noises are so loud.

sister

2010-12-30T13:00:00.000-08:00

because sometimes i move with out meaning to
just end up somewhere and realize i'm staying
drive away and leave my glasses and my flute
my favorite boots and my toothpaste
and because now i've found myself
these long few months with out pajama pants
and, this being winter, (even if it is california)
a little cold at night, a little tired
of my oxfords and my heels
my sister has sent me a package
familiar things I've done with out
(and except a little bit of mouse poop)
things i am quite happy to see again.

my new living room now smells like her smoke
from her cigarettes she must smoke in her home
i wouldn't know where she sits when she smokes
i know so little about this woman
she knows so little about me
she wouldn't know that I don't wear some of these things
which sweaters i would much prefer to these
we make reasonable assumptions
based on interactions we don't understand
so much defense that we have to store it up
stack it in the shed in boxes
along with winter clothes we leave behind.

she sees in me a tight jaw
a fight a fist and a fiery temper
but not a little sister
i see in her the kind of weakness
i find in most of the girls in hollywood
in most people i know well
an uncalculated need that is unmeetable
an unknowing that itself isn't known.

she grew from a seed in the same womb as me
curled up in a ball around her new heart
was nourished with smoke and packaged food
and then born into an ugly world
a little girl- my mother's first little girl
fifteen years ahead or behind me

but we both found it too hard to die
we both cut our arms open too many times
but carried on the next day with the banalities of life
(i had to fax some papers-
i wouldnt know what her day was like)
we both hope for more, of that much i'm sure
now i've got three boxes of life spread out on the floor
smelling like cigarettes
and i know i'll be warm when i go to sleep tonight.

elementary

2010-12-29T13:11:00.000-08:00

my elementary school depression
staring out of windows
not turning in school work
bewildered at how everyone else
was accomplishing so much
wanting to die at seven
someone said don't worry
be happy
and i looked out from my foggy banks
into her enormous smile
and felt nothing but confusion
and the same heavy dragging.

every day i told my teacher
i needed to go to the nurse
i needed to lie in a ball on the cot
she rarely believed me
but i wasn't lying.
i needed to be nursed.

i planned a surprise party
for my teacher's birthday
and it was kind of a success
in those days people said party
and they meant chips and dip
i was always disappointed
party to me being much more free
and much more alive
and life too.

twenty years have passed
since someone gave that teacher a magnolia
and i learned that if you touch it, it will die.
for twenty years i've peered out from the fog
and felt nothing but confusion
and dragged my heavy feet along the bottom
of life, bewildered.

winterscape with fox

2010-12-05T01:06:00.001-08:00

This house is cold
It has trapped the dark of last night
And I have to go outside for warmth and light

All of life is spent seeking warmth and light
Opening or shutting windows against the bone char black
The careful grays of morning muddled with zinc white

A white so cold and brittle it is married to the night
My feet are cold as ice, but outside the sun is nice
The underpaintings cracked and is letting in the light

The days are short and stacked upright, the sun has stage fright
Winterscape with fox has become my life
Climbing down into my foxhole seeking God till the first light

wearer of other people's coats

2010-12-02T21:52:00.000-08:00

Other people's coats
with pockets full of other people's posies
and pieces of napkins and reciepts
of other people's purchases
lives lived alongside mine
mornings drinking coffee
from the same machine
more than three goodbyes
in a single day sometimes
and sometimes none at all
not one
I think I may be pregnant
you are so angry at your mother
overly intimate, we share such things
as if we still may know each other
this time next year.
I borrow your coat just once
to walk to my car
and my hands briefly touch
the contents of your pockets
and then immediately
cross across my ribs.

Thanksgiving

2010-11-25T15:26:00.000-08:00

Thankful for being alone
For the quiet humming of the refrigerator
and occasional squawking of the same one bird
the hot bath, the heat in general
for knowing what I want
for being without loneliness
and almost without want
but not numb or without hope
or without feeling
moving slowly through the day
not waiting but watching
knowing this is where i most want to be
and, today, alone.

infinite space

2010-11-14T02:13:00.000-08:00

Sometimes your feet are so cold
That every step feels like a bargain
And you are on the losing end
You walk far past the place
You never thought you’d make it to
Before you realize
You have infinite space
Inside you
To store up the bitterness
That makes each step forward
Possible.

my heart must have a hundred rugs

2010-11-14T02:11:00.000-08:00

my heart must have a hundred rugs
and you are swept underneath them all
and still everywhere, dirtying up the place
with your microscopic dust.

somehow you’ve gotten into the corners
and formed a permanent grime
but it’s dark in there, and i like to think
that you don’t see it unless you’re looking.

i want to marry john keats

2010-11-09T13:51:00.000-08:00

i knew we were stuck in between
swimming upstream and swimming downstream
but you made me picture the beams
the faucets, the fixtures, the color schemes
i knew it was only a dream
that you made me dream
you made me dream.

i want to marry john keats
a dying poet with blood on his sheets
someone just as dark as me
who holds up the rugs that I sweep beneath
but there is no more john keats
he was writ in water and vanished like steam
just like the dream that you made me dream.

so i’ll sit on the floor with my tea
and honor the holes in my self esteem
alone with a head full of dreams:
i’ll move to france and eat crepes and drink chablis,
write my name in the mediteranean sea,
and visit dear keats in italy.
I'll dream all my dreams for me.

2010-10-29T01:51:00.000-07:00

hands in prayer with aching knees
i prayed to god that i'd believe
or at least that he'd come back for me

he would if i were pretty enough
he would if i believed enough
he would were there such thing as love

morning tea

2010-10-22T09:32:00.000-07:00

morning tea not so much for drinking
as for holding
my dreams must have been sad last
night
i can barely climb up out of myself enough
to sit up
I want someone to grab me
and with all the desperation and tragedy
of the passing day
to hold me to them tightly
and weep
as if they're so sorry
about everything that's ever happened
a hug that really says
I'll be damned if I'm just going to stand by
and let anything bad
ever happen to you
again.

for paris a hundred years ago

2010-10-20T21:39:00.000-07:00

there is no city that never sleeps even paris
in the middle of the night there is nowhere
not anywhere
to go to for men in smart hats
and ladies brimming with poetry
and strangers who have something to say
in just the right way
to make the long hard days okay

even los angeles which from the air stretches out glittering
like gold
far into the night
is dead asleep at four, with only a scattering
of dead eyed souls who need you to want them
tucked away in Canters.
They appraise you while they talk
and they talk like used car salesmen
who need you to post their bale.

i walk the streets alone sometimes
and let my shoes click loudly
while all the city sleeps.

happy birthday mama

2010-10-18T02:21:00.001-07:00

Happy birthday mama I’m still alive
I’m sorry I didn’t send you a big surprise
A birthday card and flowers would’ve been real nice
But happy birthday mama I’m still alive

I don’t know how I made it through all those nights
Begging god to take me and no end in sight
Some days were so dark and my heart so tight
But happy birthday mama I think I’m alright

From the age of 8 and onward I’ve wanted to die
But finally just last week I gave it a try
Cut up both of my arms about 29 times
But happy birthday mama I’m still alive

2010-10-15T12:56:00.000-07:00

how loudly do i have to scream
before god hears me
before my mother sits by my bed
before someone says it will be ok
my heels kicked the dryer
while my mother folded laundry
and maybe never heard me
all the times i said i was dying
so then i started praying
morning noon and night
with my eyes shut tightly
so none of it escaped
just god please
someone said find something
to hold on to
but all i had was a silk scarf
that i fell in love with
and needed instead of a mother
but i cant hang my life on silk
the days went by so slowly
wanting to die on the playground
and still on the playground wanting
to be erased from the record of time and space
or to not want to be
the lifetime prayer to want to live
that god cant hear
how loudly do i have to scream
before she stops telling me to be quiet
and comes to sit by my bed

t o m m y

2010-10-13T23:18:00.001-07:00

tommy wants he wants he wants
sex sugar sleep endless admiration
for what a sweet smile (and look how smart-

says too much in too many words
stumbles around syllables and spellings
because he needs you to know that he knows)

three weeks worth of sugar in days
and i knew right away of his wanting wanting
wanting but never doing giving being

his thirst is not like ours
that can be wetted with sips- his gulps are big
and still he wants he wants he wants

he wants us all in the same way
he wants and wants and wants wants wants
you last night and me today.

I Should Have Been Born One Hundred Years Ago

2010-09-29T22:59:00.001-07:00

One hundred years ago
Had its own troubles
The far away was closer
But the tears were just as salty
The universe was smaller
And so we were bigger
But death loomed just as near.
Now the far away is as infinite
As anger and maybe moving back onto us
We know the volcanoes are waiting to blow
And the fire from Heaven is gathering in the clouds
As we wait out our longer lives
With an eye on the clock and our faces to the sky,
An ear to the ground, just as afraid to die.

young guns

2010-09-29T14:53:00.001-07:00

My youth is perched precariously out on a limb
As it has been always
I notice my mother is not sad anymore
The way she was when I was four
And then I realize she never was
The sadness was always mine.
My mother was always fine.

I always assumed she wanted more
Than eating ramen on the living room floor
And fucking drunken married men
And leaving us to the ugly whims of the hollow
And the broken
With shards of glass for hearts- dangerous
And pathetic.

We were dirty, but she polished the coffee table
And told us to get out of the way
I tried to make her happy for years
I polished the coffee table myself
I rubbed her back and her calloused feet
I cried for her until I fell asleep
The only one crying was me.

2010-08-23T23:49:00.000-07:00

love is equal parts punishment and pleasure
major and minor chords measure by measure
bury me like a corpse and dig me up like treasure
hurry up and get it over with then leave me at your leisure

the one who has the lightest heart has the upper hand
the loser is the one who most gives a damn
the only way to get ahead is to cash out while you can
every woman wants the man who will leave her in the end.

up and up and up and up

2010-07-26T20:25:00.001-07:00

But what happens after the climax
But what happens on the other side
the downhill side the easy downward slope
we will possibly crash
or we may skid slowly to a halt
one or the other
but we will never climb to such great heights
together
again.

The time we fell in love for the week end

2010-06-18T12:35:00.000-07:00

I didn’t think it was a good idea in the first place
To love a man who was only in town for the week end
So we loved each other silently for two days
Over breakfast potatoes
(the only thing I remember eating with you)
And I dragged you around Santa Monica
And I took you to cold Venice Beach
And I shook- not with doubt- but with cold
And dreadful anticipation
Well we stood paralyzed and I ended up in your arms
And it’s all very blurry
Because it was a long time ago
And because it was such a quick short thing
But how relieved you were that I loved you too
And how sad we were when you had to leave
And you begged me to come with you
And I nearly did.
You swore you would send me a postcard
And that you’d be back in six months
And I thought I’d die of longing
But the postcard never came
And I forgot to miss you after a couple of weeks.

When we saw each other again,
And each time since,
We have ignored the time
When we fell in love for the week end
Probably because it is irrelevant.

the mud and the slush and my lover and me

2010-06-08T16:41:00.000-07:00

stepping on tip toe,
following no one
seeing the future
in my mothers face
i walked slowly backward
into many tomorrows
and hoped you’d not notice
the steps i’d retraced
while summers slipped by me
and i grew much older
you got much smaller
and then disappeared
i cried in the darkness
i smelled your old t shirt,
i clung to vague sorrows
and unfounded fears

it rained love that spring time
it fell all around me
soaked right through my soul
seeped through to my heart
before i could blink we
were eating thanksgiving
our souls interwoven
so as never to part
but lies broke in pieces
and fell by the wayside
the mud and the slush and
my lover and me
and viciously we threw
sharp words at each other
we’d pick at our wounds
and then cry when they’d bleed

on life’s highways and byways
i looked in the hedges
listened for reason
and waited for peace
i brought no gospel
but my own misgivings
and, remembering you, i
felt nothing but grief
as twilight fell softly
and settled to darkness
i rose to move onward
with conviction and grace
and with out even thinking
walking forward with purpose,
i began to look tomorrows
square in the face.

you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep!

2010-06-08T16:40:00.000-07:00

Into the dark, into the deep,
I toss my wishes, weighted by coins,
A penny a wish seems awfully cheap.

Into the abysmal unexplored
They sink to the cold, to the crushing depths
To lie among treasures I cant afford.

Sometimes instead of wishing I spit
Into the void I watch it disappear
And a moment later I hear it hit.

But when I draw I’ll draw for keeps
Down to the dregs, where the sediment stirs
I’ll cast my bucket into the deep.

My love for you is not unique

2010-06-08T16:37:00.000-07:00

someone else has you

tied up in their stomach

tied up in their heartstrings

knotted in their throat

you are not mine alone

other people loved you

other people love you

other people had your

heartbeat on their cheek

not only me.

my love for you is not unique

my love for you is not unique.

high horse

2010-06-08T16:35:00.001-07:00

I borrowed your high horse
To drive to the store
We were out of our minds
And lookin’ for more
We were wasting away
In the heat of the day
I borrowed your high horse
And you said you’d stay.

Sometimes we run
As fast as we can
Away from the fear
With the fear in our hands
But the things that we run from
Are there anyway
Sometimes we run
And sometimes we stay.

I built up some walls
To keep out the pain
Then I got stuck behind them
And the tears fell like rain
I couldn’t escape
Without wounding your pride
So now that horse of yours is
Scarred on one side.

I’m coming back home soon
And I’m so afraid
Of tossing and turning
In this bed that we’ve made
Of mending our fences
Or letting them rot
Of saving or losing
Everything we’ve got.

I’m up on this high horse
But I’m coming down
To look you in the eye
On firm solid ground
We’ll stand flat-footed
Until we agree
To leave you to you and
To leave me to me.

private tragedy

2010-06-08T16:32:00.000-07:00

You are my own private tragedy
The root of every sorrow and every desire
And now forever unattainable
But no more so than before
You put your arm around me
But only one
To say hello
The root of my every want.

Now my wants and sorrows sit
Side by side on the floor
And you lie flat under sod
Somewhere on the gulf
Now I wonder if I wouldn’t
So often wish to join you
If you’d have used both arms.

to imagine how it feels to fall

2010-06-08T15:13:00.000-07:00

oh god

I miss peering over the edge

oh god

the pacific ocean that

pulls me toward it

like an aching need

that coincides with sadness

but is not born of sadness

that develops with sadness

not from

the need to peer over the edge

to look down and see

how far down

how far to go

to throw anything I can find

into the air that fills the space

to imagine how it feels to fall that far

to sit with my nostrils flared

as something that is not me

falls and sometimes spins

and hits and sometimes bounces.

2010-06-08T13:19:00.001-07:00

The world is big and round and full of empty aching dread

Unless the little light above the stove illuminates the kitchen

And the rest of the house is quiet

And the rest of the world is dark.

2010-06-02T18:26:00.000-07:00

it's when you're closest to life you're least scared to die
riding down comal st with sharp rain in my eyes
surrounded by lightning that rips round the sky

it's when you're closest to life you're least scared to die.
the baby took its first breath the mama started to cry
i howled the whole way home and couldn't say why

it's when you're closest to life you're least scared to die
i didn't eat for two weeks every breath was a sigh
i layed in the bathtub and cried my eyes dry

i was as close to life as i'll be when i die.

:)

2010-05-28T23:44:00.000-07:00

i wonder now that i'm here
when i'll run into that man
that in my youth i thought
despite thorough dissatisfaction
i would spend my entire life with.

i think that it would be fun
in the most terrible sort of way
that is to say completely comfortable
and morbidly interesting.

strange to think in six years
i will come across your picture too
and feel none of the disgust
as i wonder unemotionally
if she subconsciously hates you too.

On Olive in May, and her casual way of wandering onto me

2010-05-28T23:34:00.000-07:00

baby chick when you walk across my toes
the world unwinds and spins the right way round
and all the gravity that funneled into my stomach
on my furrowed brow
springs up toward heaven lost forever
there is nothing left in me to think or say
for half of the morning i am suspended
and contentment envelopes me
like no man ever has.

i want to have sex with someone else

2010-05-23T20:08:00.000-07:00

i want someone to say something to me

i want someone to say it exactly the way it is

or exactly the way that it is not

i don't want anything in between

because that's all anyone hears anymore.

i want someone to say to me,

come for a walk with me

lets have a baby

do you want a glass of ice water?

stand up straight

i dont want to talk to you anymore

you're beautiful in the morning

read me a poem

i hate when you wear that dress

take off your clothes

knock, knock

lets go see the foxes

i hate it when you leave your dishes in the sink

i want to have sex with someone else

please don't leave

i'm sorry

i love you

jesse

2010-05-23T19:03:00.000-07:00

aching aching aching for the absence that you take
i wouldnt mind the silence if you'd leave before it breaks
it is what it is, what it is changes twice a day
forever never more forever go stay stay go stay
i wished for love so hard i couldn't think i couldn't see
you wished for love so hard you fell in love with everyone but me.

dandelion greens and the great truth

2010-05-23T18:53:00.000-07:00

sadly, sometimes dandelions grow better
when you don't plant the seeds
and water them with the kinked up hose
left in the yard, uncoiled, in the hot May sun
but when the wind, one by one
picks the fluff and blows it at random
about the yard
and it happens to rain.

sadly, sometimes
we don't have dandelion greens
when we want them
and sometimes
we don't want them
when we have them.

A shudder and a scream

2010-05-15T18:37:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I shudder.

(I know you do too).

And I think my soul

Must be retreating

Because it was too close

To the terrifying truth of things.

I don’t know what else it could be.

I screamed today

So loudly I thought I’d damage myself

In some irreversible way

Something wanted to escape me

And even the scream didn’t let it out

Only quelled it for a moment-

But it felt like the thing to do.

I had to do something.

What is this feeling

That begs to be nurtured

And demands complete attention

And then disappears for weeks

With out checking in once

And then drops in unexpectedly

Casually like family, and so dramatic.

Nothing else seems quite so real

Or important

And even the ugliest part of it

Is so much more comforting

Than the monotonous humming

Indifferent numbing convenient

Drumming of its absence.

I haven't been twenty two in years

2010-05-15T17:37:00.000-07:00

Dear Carla the days of cursing your name in my half sleep
as your high heels stomp about my living room
like a parade of elephants on stilts
are forever gone.
I can hear your laughter in my head,
Thunderous and sudden like a punch or a kiss
but I haven't heard it in years.

And, Frank, you can never again be twenty-two
so even if we again sat on the kitchen floor
eating bread fried in butter
or playing kickball in the park
it wouldn't be the same kind of sitting
the same kind of playing.

As for me, my days of weeping
bitterly or desperately
in public bathrooms or sidewalks
or in Chris Holmes' front yard
of spending the night in jail
and earnestly wanting to die
have given way to an easier sadness.

I sit in the darkening evening
surrounded by the things
that made it through the transformation
sipping herbal tea like we used to sip margaritas
an easier sadness because it's almost like happy
except when I miss your laugh
miss knowing you
miss my awful awful youth.

snails

2010-04-15T15:10:00.000-07:00

he said to me: you look very pretty today
and looked at me like i look at snails
or caged snakes
with his hand on my shoulder
i glared at him and gave him the finger
so angry, but immediately sorry.
thirteen years later i met his wife
who looked at me like i looked at
that woman you danced with all night
(she shook my hand so hard
when i met her at the party-
do you wish i shook hands like that?)
almost the way I'd look at a roach
that i was too afraid to trap
and too afraid to not
who looked back at me
like i was a chicken she would catch for meat.
He looked at me like i look at snails again,
and this time i liked it
and so did you.

2010-01-31T22:05:00.002-08:00

I remember when your smell was new

Before it became familiar and comforting

Before it lingered on my clothes

And in my sleep caressed me.

For some time your smell was not tied to calm

But to excitement and discovery

And later when you broke my heart

The smell of you distressed me.

coffee

2010-01-31T22:05:00.001-08:00

I sat with dear J over coffee today

We talked about the nature of love

Of the tragic way we all run away

And then ache thinking it a mistake

Absent

2010-01-31T22:03:00.001-08:00

I watched you sleep

Your eyes were swimming

Off far away,

I was uninvited.

Your eyes were swimming

But my spirit sinking.

Your voice spoke to me

In flat dull tones

My voice fell too

And, tarnished now,

It mirrored yours

But amplified.

Your absent smell

(Now living elsewhere)

No longer lingering

On my pillows

The sage sits smokeless

In the ash-less tray.

You kept me warm

Then came the cold

Fingers and toes

And hearts grew numb

Before the winter

Even whispered hello.

death

2010-01-31T22:01:00.001-08:00

I woke up cold and stiff and numb

The earth was warm and still it spun

The keeper of my soul had left his throne

I woke up cold and all alone.

Last night I lay me down to bed

With painful weight in heart and head

The keeper of my heart had let it break

I prayed the Lord my soul to keep or take.

I woke up cold and stiff and numb

My heart still, my mind deaf and dumb

I heard life singing in the trees

Unaware of what had become of me.

The Lord had not granted my prayer

To protect me here or take me there

I woke up heavy and cold as lead

Still alive, but good as dead.

Kipling

2010-01-31T22:00:00.001-08:00

A man like that would make Kipling wince

But then a man like that wouldn’t mind.

He would look at Kipling with that heartless stare

And then he’d leave us standing there.

At least I have Kipling.

Lana Turner

2010-01-31T21:59:00.001-08:00

My mother was Lana Turner

But with a smile that would make

your heart ache

if you knew what would happen:

a lot of mean men

kicking and cursing

and yelling and hitting

and a lot of nothing

in between

silent dinners and sleeping alone

for the rest of her life.

Five times she thought she'd got it right

But they showed her.

Her thumbnail stayed black

For years

And then went her heart

So now she has nothing

To show the world

But that absurdly complacent smile

That says that's what life is like.

pairs

2010-01-31T21:51:00.001-08:00

I’m in Paris, which is just pairs jumbled up.

Everything sounds so round and aimless

And yet so crooked and quirky

The grooves all snap into place here

With out force and with out frowns

Ah! the picture I’ve been trying to put together

For all of my life

But could never see

Until now

I never knew the shape

Until now

Never even knew what it was.

something, not this

2010-01-31T21:43:00.000-08:00

I sort through the cupboard

Waiting for something to snag

On the fabric of my memory

And for that happy tug of aha!
yes!

I know that I will know it

When I see it

That forgotten thing

That is not this

And is not this

And is not this.

ache

2009-07-20T08:22:00.000-07:00

every day i wake
to the slow hum drumming ache.

2009-07-19T13:02:00.000-07:00

I waited, guarded, to see if you were worth it
but I never could tell from the shadows where I stood
watching from the corner of my eye.

With you it's like checkers
Once all our men are kings
but all we do is dance with ourselves
back and forth
safely on our own sides.

I watch from the shadows, with out even looking
and we both keep our distance
and we both dance alone.

For Smiling in Ecuador

2009-07-19T12:35:00.000-07:00

I know a boy who says a lot of pretty things
that are less pretty
because they are just pretty.
And for all the pretty words
he never smiled with me in Ecuador.

Instead of all your pretty words
I'd rather listen to you shit.

my father wrote me pretty things:
angel sing a song for me, he said
but never once wished me happy birthday.
Never once.

So set the bile to delicate piano
and flourish your excrement
with meaningless imagery
if it sounds good.
They have another word
for prolific shit.

I smile when I wake

2009-06-06T17:39:00.001-07:00

I smile when I wake in the morning
And your name doesn’t immediately strike a chord
sounding throughout my soul
stirring the ache that has settled with sleep.
i smile when i wake in the morning
and the twinge doesn’t start with the opening of eyes
(which rest idly, dazed but content)
But waits for me to remember my own name.

It might not even hurt

2009-04-01T23:56:00.001-07:00

It might not even hurt
Any of the things
I’ve been bracing myself for:
When that boy
Finally moves on
And when the alarm
Rings too early tomorrow
And when I do jump in
To the cold water
And when my mother
Stops knowing who I am
And when they sell the house
And when my face looks old
And when I haven’t spoken
To certain someones
In twenty years.
But tonight
Even the fear
That it might not hurt
Is painful.

Once there was a Shadow

2009-02-18T04:25:00.001-08:00

Once there was a shadow

Who lived far in the depths of space

And couldn’t help but feel

Lonely and out of place.

It was cold and it was gloomy

Up where it was always night,

And when she looked at the stars in the distance

She wondered about their light.

That shadow wished on every star

And on every blinking light

For a place to hang her hat

That was cheery, warm and bright.

She read a lot of books

About lots of places far away

But she mostly liked to read about

the light that fills the day.

And the more our shadow learned

The more our shadow yearned

To touch the light that fills the day

(Though she feared she might get burned).

Every night before she went to bed

After she brushed her teeth

She’d look through all the stars above

And all the stars beneath

Looking for the light of day

Imagining how it would feel

Thinking she could take a trip

To see if it was real.

So one day she packed up all of her books

And left the depths of space

She traveled over light years

Till she found our Sun’s resting place

She waited all through nighttime

And all the way to morning

Until she heard the early-birds

Singing out their warning

And she knew the Sun was coming

When she heard those early songs

Our shadow’s knees they shook

But she stood there brave and strong.

And then the sun stretched upward

And climbed from his soft cloud-bed

And stood up tall on the horizon

To see that the flowers got fed.

And the taller the great sun grew

The more our shadow knew

The friendly sun would fall on her

And the light would shine right through!

The sun climbed higher up the day

And our shadow’s guess was right

The more sun that touched the shadow’s skin

The more she turned to light.

That shadow, she just shook her head

And, smiling, she sighed.

She knew she’d found where she belonged

And all she’d done was tried.

It Doesn't Have to be a Secret

2009-02-18T04:22:00.001-08:00

It doesn’t have to be a secret
If you like a girl
If you want to sleep with her
If she makes you feel alive
If she flirts with you
With her eyes
And knowing you can have her
Makes you forget
That life is meaningless
That love is not
What they say it is.

It doesn’t have to be a secret.
Tell me.
Let me share your excitement.
Let your eyes shine
And relax your lips
Into the smile they want to form
And let me see you feel alive
At the thought
Of such a simple thing.

Blackberries

2009-02-06T18:07:00.001-08:00

blackberries

Under heavy clouds,
walking to the harbor,
wild blackberries
(some still red)
peeked out along the path.

Still very sour,
they gripped my tongue,
instantly transporting me
far away in time and space
to 1987 in East Texas.

My tongue distinctly remembers
eating sour blackberries
with my grandmother.
My mind
does not.

Obla di Obla da Life Goes On

2008-12-23T18:48:00.000-08:00

I don’t care if it’s already been said or done.
It’s all been said or done.

A man’s whole life
hung in the balance
of 6 PM tonight
And I was
cleaning out my composter,
cursing the fact that something
that was supposed to be so “easy”
was so “difficult.”

I forgot to say a prayer.
Forgot even to
Think good thoughts.
In half an hour’s time
I forgot about the man
And his whole life
And the hopes of
His wife and children
And family.
Everybody holding their breaths
And me cursing my composter.

Auden already said this.
Said it well, too.
Everything important
Has already been said
And we may as well all
Sit silently.
But even if I’m
Not the first-
Even if I’m
Not the last,
It strikes me as important
To note
That a man died
And KFC aired loud commercials
While I wept
From the core of my soul
And never recovered.
And what were you doing
At that moment?

I am not Louis Aragon.

2008-12-23T15:33:00.000-08:00

Let's laugh the two of us let's laugh
At what we loved
At what we loved the two of us
Yes because this poem the two of us
Is set to imperfect time
Like a history book out of order
In which Napoleon befriends the Iron Chancellor
And they fight to the death
And neither Yellowstone or the Big Bang are discussed.
Yes let's laugh the two of us at these harrowing sorrows
That torment the pits of our souls with despair
Yes because something must still
Some thing
Reconcile us yes let's laugh
The two of us it's imperfect
A kind of irreparable hope
Underlying the ache
Let's laugh like thunder
Let's laugh that's an order
In imperfect time
A history book out of order
So I am speaking to the past Go ahead and spit
At the truth spun to gold if you feel that way.

-Dawn M Batson

I am not Louis Aragon:

Do you know when it truly becomes a story
Love
You know
When every breath turns into a tragedy
When even the day's colors are laughable
Air a shadow in shade a name thrown out
That everything burns and you know deep down
That everything burns
And you say Let everything burn
And the sky is the taste of scattered sand
Love you bastards love for you
Is when you manage to sleep together
Manage to
And afterwards Ha ha all of love is in that
And afterwards
We manage to speak of what it is
To sleep together for years
Do you understand
For years....

....The last word of love imagine that
And the last kiss and the last
Nonchalance
And the last sleep no kidding it's comic
Thinking simply of the last night
-Louis Aragon

My Father Was a Mean Man

2008-12-19T23:03:00.000-08:00

My father was a mean man
And, oh, my mother
My mother was a sad soul.

My father was broken
And, oh, my mother
My mother was un-whole.

My father was a poet
And, oh, my mother
My mother was naive .

My father was a drinker
And, oh, my mother
My mother had to leave.

My father was a sad soul
And, oh, my mother
My mother was tired.

My father was un-whole
And, oh, my mother
My mother was uninspired.

My father was naïve
And, oh, my mother
My mother couldn’t bother.

My father let her leave
And, oh, my mother
My mother met step-father.

Step-father was a mean man
And, oh, my mother
My mother was a sad soul.

Winter

2008-12-19T22:45:00.000-08:00

I looked up at the stars tonight
The first stars I’d seen since October
And they were only a tilt of the head away.

I walked in the cold with my hands out
Remembering looking forward to Winter
The way it sings the black keys.

Love was all there was to hope for last week
And now it’s a good night’s sleep
And something to laugh at.

as freedom is a breakfastfood

2008-12-11T00:11:00.000-08:00

as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
--long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame

as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men's hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
--long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung

or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common's rare and millstones float
--long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late

worms are the words but joy's the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
--time is a tree (this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough

e e cummings