Wednesday, November 12, 2008
-
we'll never protect ourselves from the fact that anything's possible.
like one day
Lindsay crossed the street
and the next day Lindsay
crossed the street and died-
the semi swerved like a whip
cracked right at her sternum
and she flew like a flicked eyelash, light,
like nothing,
and landed a heavy corpse on concrete:
everything precious is always crossing the street.
everything ready to end abruptly, without mercy,
while you sob over a body, construct crosswalks,
stoplights, paint white lines, possessed by ideas of justice.
there are delicate bodies, there are dense metal machines
and so much to look at over there,
over there, over there.
there is distracted wide-eyed love,
there is apathy crouched in the dark
and so much to look at over there,
over there, over there.
i've got to know any day i could just be dropped clumsily
fall to the floor and feel myself go in sick circles,
like a quarter
until i finally lay flat.
Friday, October 17, 2008
-
BACK AGAIN. Current Location: Madrid, Spain.
OFF THE TOP OF THE HEAD:
i nearly died this summer.
hibernating between file folders
i was close to death, papercuts piling
on my old papercuts, opening everything up.
i nearly died this summer.
practically drove into the guardrail
there's one suspiciously slippery spot
on the highway out of the city.
i know i died this summer.
i felt myself packed into the furnace
the moment i understood love
and how he never,
never, never
knew me.
i wish i could say i feel reborn.
that im not just rot walking.
---------------------------------
REALLY OLD:
despite all my best efforts
my whole spectrum's so sordid
that i cannot come clean.
i would not die for any of my lovers
but i let them say they'd die for me.
------------------------------
NEW-ISH STUFF:
1.
no soy solamente que soy.
volando entre
poder dado
y poder hacido.
Navidad says her hair is like a siren's
she shows me
how it covers her chest completely
and BAM
i want to be transformed
with the power to sing all men to death,
extract my revenge in song,
watch them struggle in the whirl.
2.
theres this popular perfume im convinced all men wear
in spain. i imagine it stinking up my bedroom.
my third day here, i couldn't eat-
the shrimp had eyes! eyes!!!
and brains!!!!!
i imagined pupils expanding,
blackening in boiling water,
its twenty tiny legs curling up at immediate death.
i realized i cannot pick apart the bodies of things,
understood yet again that smells
and men will never
be something i can truly stomach.
3.
i took off my heels because i sounded
like a lawyer traipsing down Plaza Del Sol
at roughly 6 AM. no less than 3 minutes
later there was blood everywhere
a sharp bit of broken glass
in my heel, hidden between bricks
and cobblestone. i bled all over
a ticket stub i shoved in my shoe.
click click click.
they told me this was status quo,
this painful pair. minutes later i felt nothing-
probably the whiskey, or my pride,
or both. he kissed with lots of tongue
and i felt that. the air is drier here,
streets small as sidewalks, he pressed
me against some historical monument
and i felt invincible,
shoved my tongue back, not worried
about open wounds.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
-
sitting on ross's driveway i almost expected something to come charging at me
from between the trees where i heard twigs breaking
maybe something with tusks and fur
or teeth and a beard,
breath full of whiskey,
or sandals a sundress
someone skinnier than me
and with bigger eyes,
she's funny. and cool,
and never laughs too loud.
I try and look away from her and think about how i should work out my triceps,
how i need a cigarette.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
-
marry me?
I love watching you listen, smirk, and frown
and how in the water of Lake Michigan
we hurled rocks at our reflections
covered in rainwater.
I'm awake at 7 AM, still high
on amphetamines, writing
while you rustle.
You took up all the room in the bed.
And I didn't mind,
and I'm pretty sure that's what love is,
delight despite discomfort,
and the way you struggled
just to stay awake through my stories. -
Dissolution
All of us clustered,
those huddled moments.
Me, Emily, Wes, Billy
in the basement on the squeaky
sleeper-sofa mattress.
We slept, woke, slept again,
until 5 PM. No reason.
And inbetween the occasional
swiping sound of the comforters,
the cringing springs,
we'd hear gears.
Shifting Discs 1-5,
It would go in a circle
shuffling its way back
to what had just played
carousel clicking, the hum like a trapped insect,
circling around, and minus that one album,
empty. It was odd and electric,
the sight of green LCD lights
shining off Billy's eyelashes
while he touched us,
Me and Emily,
both of us never really knowing how,
or where.
You, Me, Emily,
drunk in the middle of the driveway
wailing into the well of our circled bodies,
containing the echo.
You, Me, and Emily,
The dissolution of summer
the cement of suburbia
and three girls terrified
not saying a word, pouring years
of stifled salt water
into each others ears.
You, Me, and Emily.
Three rocks on the beach,
I think the picture's still in her bedroom.
When she's not there I sneak in
and see if it's still taped to the wall
Kristin, Jenn, Emily
carved white into the shale pieces
we found in the sand.
That was before it picked away at me
waking up eroded, recoiling from visions:
his hand clutching her outer thigh
the way he'd repeat "oh my god,"
and flutter his eyes so quick they looked closed.
I'd be watching them,
Emily's head hanging down, hair like willow branches
sweeping, swinging around his face-
They never look up, never think twice.
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