February 2012
17 posts
Today, I want to kill and love myself both. I want to do everything and I want to lie in my bed. I don’t want this day to end and I don’t want this day to start. I feel frantic in some dream’s depression: a slow glossy wave like a billion brilliant little neon feathers quickly vibrating between the smallest distances perceivable. What are they whispering? Why am I made to this...
Dear D., Why It Wasn’t Cheating:
There was a single perfect orange pulp dangling from the upper tip of her lips just to the center of one side and it is at this exact moment when the recognition of the presence of the pulp becomes this blindingly big thought seated before the part of my brain that is looking out of my body and the shape of the large demanding figure turns and asks, Are you...
You watch as I sip my coffee on the park bench and the problem isn’t you watching but that I know you’re watching me sip my coffee. So in my head I watch us, you watching me and me watching you watching me, and there is no one there in that body of mine but a self-conscious fool lifting the drink to his lips in such an awkward fashion, so unnaturally, so twisted and forced to seem...
He had long outlived the end and realized beyond the end was not another beginning but a long journey back to moments of unaging, of becoming innocent again, of falling in love with those he’d forgotten, of learning to ignore death, of being born again and again to the point his shoulders stooped from the effort of attempting to understand how new the old can be. Soon he recognized an urging...
1 tag
A. I am susceptible to live music at night and especially at night when I’m with a pretty girl with an easy face next to me sipping an Irish red I knew she’d like, but who isn’t? And I get the sense of incoherent story and significance inflating the moment in the deadly pause that quakes somewhere in the middle an amazing song, that few seconds of stillness some songs are delicate enough to hold...
1:
No one mentions the time he fell down four stories and broke a lot of bones and had to spend a year with his parents in Oregon because everyone knows he did it on purpose. If someone was to mention it now, at this moment, blame would walk into the room and look for a place to sit. Oh hello there. Is this seat taken? Why do you look so sad? It’s not as if you knew he’d try again. It’s not as if...
1 tag
Ophelia
I do not know the shape of my body until I bathe and entrust the timely faiths to slant the willow brook wrists. Unbreathing gesture of float insists placed garland of Rue upon the heads of the gathered who know not where I’ve gone. The brook is too white and milked to search for a soul beyond body. This is my advantage in death, to lose my shape and bounds, to hold the lilypads...
