May 2012
26 posts
Can you guess how tall I’d been laid wrong ways across your mattress hoping the compass points elsewhere than to follow the length of my body as I spanned further than the distance of your two feet and two legs and two thighs spread across East and West about my shoulder and my waist and my knees bent to rest on the carpet but my arms held up locked like a bridge to nowhere but ending up...
April 2012
15 posts
1 tag
I am infinite but the sink is backed up with bits of newspaper and orange rind (thanks Hannah). She said as she was peeling the orange, I want a guy with big forearms you know Disney prince kind of arms, and I looked at my skinny arms and thought of palm trees rattling. But I am infinite and yet I can’t stop thinking about what April said, You don’t know everything so stop acting like you do,...
fragment w/ context #1 Goodbye! and I, worn loose, the tie, sworn truce, your thigh, I’m honey draped — * *She’s in front of the full length mirror naked from the waist down and she’s judging herself and she asks me how it looks. I kneel behind her and place my hand on the scar on her left thigh and I rub with my thumb the surrounding skin. She watches me through the mirror...
She thinks I’m the sky, guesses I hardly know myself, presses her fingers at the easy faint lines just below my eyes to point at worlds I might be hiding. Says, You think you fooled everybody don’t you think you can sweep us off our feet without ever opening your eyes: Static sounds from beneath the blanket. It is calm but there is movement, like heavens, gradual and falsely inert, to...
Anonymous asked: It's the guy who isn't good at sitting down. When I want to write I have no ideas and when I have ideas I don't want to write. I sit down and stare at a blank document. Sort of, both?
comely, Sara is a knife and she kissed her first boyfriend when she was fourteen and she lied in my bed and showed me exactly what it was like, even put her hand on my stomach just like he did and said, This is how he breathed and pressed her nose into my hair and warmed it hot. God, I promised, if I could love her in ways no other, forever, until I am old and she shows me how she dies by putting...
She never was happy, was she? Even if he awkwardly placed his hands above her hands in a clumsy manner that says more that he’s trying to care than that he cares, she couldn’t appreciate the attempts because he felt so maneuvered to attempt and at the most frustrating of her days she just told him to lie down and die. You can’t make me feel better. You don’t love me as he...
1 tag
Anonymous asked: I have difficulty sitting down to write a lot of the time even though I want to, do you have any advice?
1 tag
reflexive: everyone thinks you’re dead but I’m just crazy enough to call your phone and there you’re alive telling me hello I’m sorry I missed your call but I hope you’re having a nice day and I am off my hook with a phone cord wrapped around my neck telling you about this movie I think you’d like where the main character gets lost in an aquarium and while...
I woke up today after a dream about a baby raccoon and a puppy in the garage crashing and bouncing off the walls. I woke up to the scent of a pinched orange and thought how the rain woke up every feeling and animal and thought about how the waters seemed to pick up some of the light in the room. I turned my head on the pillow and caught some hair under my cheeks. She moaned. I gathered her hair...
In Summary: The soundless heat and the other sound comes like a stone but more happily, the friends say that she’s going to be fine. I wonder what the nurses say though when they catch each other at the end of a hospital hallway and they magnet draw in together with that look on their faces, that knowing look, a look that must be a professional look by now, I mean, look at these patients:...
1 tag
4.6.2012
The tide rising up the naked sheets making heavy, the pillows, and forget about the alarm clock — the metal tinkers ratcheting worry, invariably, to thoughts more tangled than your legs and mine but it is fine for we’ve suffocated the greatest of our sadness at the fixed embrace of our eyes: Dear Sara, I looked from so much quiet, b/c, I longed for what we had, and I felt...
1. You are (at the very least) just a little bit ugly. 2. You love someone that is (at the very least) just a little bit ugly. 3. You love not out of logic but because of arbitrary drives. 4. It’s possible you could’ve loved anyone in the world. But you didn’t. 5. We are all (at the very least) just a little bit ugly. 6. The little bit (at the very least) of ugliness makes this...
kind
because at the cusp of her care she wished that I’d leave in anyway if found most satisfactory even if I crushed the seeds, the eggs, the glass on the way out that constant door and fell to infinity (because I would find this the best). kind, because she wished for me the most awful wound, the kind that lasts only a day or two and is gone, untraceable, awfully forgettable, unlike the...
