little thoughts

blood bruise

2008-09-15T09:11:00.001-07:00

what a thing to hear
once uttered it can't be returned
turned outside, from in
it aches like a deep bruise
bleeding internally

2008-06-29T09:50:00.002-07:00

your beard and a wispy soft roughness
shivering on my cheeks
a taste and then its gone again

softly, through the white fabric
covering myself, covering me
a kiss down below

i cant say a word
or a whisper of this to anyone
except into your ear
trapping myself into desire

-ing

2008-06-17T17:03:00.003-07:00

walking on concrete and garbage
swimming in ditches
and bathing in sunlight

eating red plums
drinking warm white wine
while selling bits of gold

wearing green dresses
bicycling past highways
and crossing bridges over salt water

to move on past these feelings
not believing it was difficult
and so it became that it wasn't so hard

i feel it all

2008-06-14T09:22:00.004-07:00

cycled tears
recycled
over and over,
how can it hurt since january?

with foolish moments of calm
where genuine, the smiles warmth
made my rooms illuminate
over and over

until the next month
and the next recovery
trust recycled
built up to cave in

crumbling
like time
like pie crust
like my silly little broken heart.

2008-06-09T00:18:00.002-07:00

crushed
every angle, like a recycled pop can
empty, of all susbtances
i can give no more

with every beat

2008-05-11T12:15:00.002-07:00

regret, it hurts
a disgust with your own insides
an incision in the gut
bleeding out, but not enough to kill you.
just enough to seep throughout
outside of the veins
touching your bones

its never like christmas morning
not anymore
instead its like a chilling phonecall
one you overhear, and you know its bad news

listening to irregular sighs
half sentences
quiet mumblings
this is not what you want.

2008-05-01T16:15:00.000-07:00

icantwrite

another silent goodnight

2008-03-24T17:14:00.002-07:00

inside of his boring girl
he is a tourist

the bored boy
lacks to see her luster

he takes a trip, twice a week
not ever really seeing her

she thinks of him always
and fumbles inwardly with exhaustion

like a thinly sliced apple
she feels her core disregarded

she will give up soon enough
no longer able to speak

when a love cannot be given words
things do become boring

mascara

2008-03-13T16:13:00.003-07:00

the rule is
once your mascara is on, there should be no more crying
thickly spread, lash by lash
tears are for girls, and i am a woman
gracefully girlish
womanly eyes
i stare like ice, icicle eyes
blinking too often
holding back the rush
and the sigh from wine soaked lips
red and cracked, chapped from the cold
and the forgotten kisses

2008-02-26T19:54:00.001-08:00

i'm very sad

in the ICU

2008-02-25T17:13:00.004-08:00

he looks like he's sleeping
a lazy nap in the warmth-filled basement
his log fire doze

except all of those mechanical sounds
and wires
and the moving graphs
make it clear that everything is too technical

he looks comfortable
but this is no cozy place

there is a difference between a heart attack and a cardiac arrest
and then the myocardial infarction
terrifying terminology

she cries, which breaks my heart
because they fell deeper into love every day
he was mellowing
he still chopped his wood, stubborn lifting and lugging and falling
but he did the dishes, held her hand and poured her glasses of wine.

he's seen hell. 1945. maggots. limbless, but alive.

wake up. don't leave us this way.

notes to myself (like hugh prather)

2008-02-23T17:15:00.005-08:00

its like that open wound on my hand
it just won't go away
it stings
and i drink a few glasses of wine and
think i'll stop feeling the pin pricks
but it only gets worse
i feel numb and saddened deeply
deep like my mind in a tunnel

i'm a tunneling rat.
over the last few months
i've learned to forget myself
and my problems
and now they're flooding back
meaningless things were giving me trouble
and now the meaningful things overflow in my glass
like too much red wine

i want a cigarette
but i'm trying to quit because its not healthy
i disapprove of myself
and of my breakthrough bleeding
if i didn't smoke, the pills would work better
and maybe i'd be brave enough to say
i love you.

but i'm not because my heart holds back
it encounters frozen terrain
and only when i'm drunk can i begin to say what i mean.

i remember those bopping heads,
that adorable song.
i'm listening to it now.
"hold my hand when you cut me down"
i feel like kicking my own ass
i'm a wrench, stuck twisting some random piece of metal
hopelessly, i allowed myself to
become "tired of trying... when i don't get nothing back"

i almost punched a wall today.
maybe if i had, i would have broken
the fragile, minuscule, birdlike bones in my hand.
and this would be hurting much less.
a broken hand would be a wonderful distraction.

no one reads these words, so i can say what i want.
my conscience is cleared here.
i always knew he didn't care for me.
i don't know why i allowed that.
never once was there any reaching out to tell me i was special.
no flowers, no postcards, nothing much of anything.
i let myself be walked all over.
as usual.
this is why i find it hard to trust people.
i can't let them in, because they will never like what they see.
they would learn that i am unnecessarily complicated.
as soon as he got a hint of that, he told me i was being too serious.
up up up the subway escalator. "you need to relax"
but he didn't help me relax, not one bit.
i wish so fucking much that he had.

it sent shivers down my spine when it touched my shoulders.
a circular motion. gentle. nails brushing the surface of my skin.
but that's not enough.

it means a lot.
but he doesn't want me.
and that, this time, it breaks my heart.

so, i'm drunk. and wishing i could just sleep all through the day tomorrow.
waking up is going to be hella hard.
its been that way before.
and i just hate that feeling.
its like every bone in my body is heavy and numb
but at the same time i feel everything to the highest degree. in a painful way.
i'll have to drag myself to the surface and splash my face with cold water.

intellectually, things were missing.
i could talk about political bullshit for hours with my big poppa.
we argued like bitches, but it was in the end a good thing.
i miss him, and i still haven't called my only american hero.

challenge is a good thing.
we didn't challenge each other enough.
not once a yelling match.
or any outbursts. maybe that's what was missing.
we didn't talk about much that ever shot my nerve endings.
like a match striking metallic ribbon.
and then when we did it had to do with my heart.
so i couldn't even speak because i was almost crying.

i can't talk when i'm about to cry, if you want to know a secret about me.

now, i'm almost catatonic. staring at the wall, a t.v., a mirror to see my sad blue eyes.
tomorrow, it'll be staring at people on the subway. they'll be uncomfortable. i won't even realize i'm staring.

the worst thing is that tomorrow i'm going to have to pretend to be happy.
cheerful with the customers.
this is life.
i want to move somewhere else.

i just realized
my
heart
is
broken.

my lost gestures

2008-02-23T12:34:00.004-08:00

this time 'round
on the final coast down.
this time my heart fell too.

how is it possible to ache?
to miss something that never found me.
something that never grasped onto me,
while i clawed onto it
the way a desperate taloned claw
grabs a beautiful struggler sailing on the wind
underneath those dangerous rainclouds.

remember when we watched that nature show,
or when we listened to 80's tunes and actually laughed
even danced
i think you forgot to remember that
ages ago,
after those frozen tundra images melted
after glaciers receded.

i remember all this little bullshit,
and i feel crushed when i think
of it all surrounding me.
when i recall all the romance i planned
but never had the courage to follow through with...
because i knew that it wouldn't be reciprocated.

all the remnants. i took the influence and
downloaded it onto my hard drive, my lifeline.
i felt over eager. i still do.
an unsent valentine card.
that mix tape.
lingerie i never bought. but i tried it on.

i know he doesn't miss me yet. maybe he never will.
i miss him already, which hurts the most.

i want to tell him about all my lost gestures,
but i can't. it won't help.

weighty mood

2008-02-22T15:29:00.003-08:00

on the counter
yogurt and diet coke
an apple a day.

a running game,
on a treadmill moving nowhere.

on the brain
a weighty mood
and things left unsaid.

an ugly little brown bird on the railing
sits for a minute and floats on by.
not very gracefully.

and the fear
of speaking up.

and the guilt
of consuming too much
of ingesting everything in sight
but not giving myself up to anyone.

never fully.

a small sound. laughter maybe.
but probably not.
it was a key in the lock of the downstairs door.

a waiting game, looking at the digital numbers.
not giving in.
not yet, but soon.

-----

this writing is bullshit.

threadbare

2008-02-10T11:19:00.000-08:00

falling back into old habits
it always feels like the right direction
like an old t-shirt
comfortable
that one in the corner of your drawer
you pretend to abandon it
but you can never bring yourself to get rid of it
so you put it on again
and you become
perfectly threadbare
showing your bones

this was accidental (edit)

2008-01-23T05:58:00.000-08:00

original (November 4th 2007)

this was accidental,
this fall into a non-direction.
i thought that moving would make things more obvious
but i still shiver,
because i don't believe in god.
we're just faithless chess pieces, praying
and playing with ourselves.
i miss her, memories are like a forgotten time capsule.
i am absent of him, dreams taped into a dark box.

things i saw
they broke my heart more deeply than any lover could.
and there is not a thing to do,
no response, no prayers, no god to talk to,
no way to explain my visions
or the terror that stares at me like an un-moving glass eye.
no way to starve it away.
there is just the exhausting fear
that everything up until now has been an accident.

orange

2008-01-22T17:18:00.000-08:00

a lot about me is broken
not my heart
or my foot
but the zipper on my coat is,
and so are my thoughts.
so, i drank some wine to try to forget them
and i strapped on my hiking boots
caked in red dust and african mud
...big poppa knows exactly what i'm talking about
and i stepped into the snow, into the white
it rubbed them clean
but i know where i've been walking
and i'm sad about a lot of things right now
but it can only get better
i'll just keep down this path until i'm fixed

real

2008-01-19T20:44:00.000-08:00

it can be too hard for me to speak when all i want to do is disappear i'm shy with everyone and its hard sometimes to speak without crying when the words don't come out the way they're supposed to because i can't even think of what i want to say. my friend, she was nice i'm following her advice and i love her and i'm calmed for a minute but i still want to cry because i can't speak but i know that if i open mouth i will just start to cry because i feel so confused i think i might be depressed some days because its so hard to smile and i have to try really damn hard to be happy and the moods of other people rub off on me so easily especially foul moods and then i'm just not myself. i haven't felt like myself for a while now, its not a good feeling especially when i know i shouldn't have to try to feel happy. but now its going to be even harder to smile because now i'm really sad. real. i already miss yesterday's sadness.
==
sometimes its so bad that i freeze up. i'm never that excitable or loudly enthusiastic so i say things in my head instead of aloud. i censor myself from the inside out. i'm not confident with me. i guess that's why i don't dance around naked or smile at strangers anymore, i lost that ability a few years ago and now i just pray for killer razor sharp hip bones and pretty sunken cheek bones so that i look pretty enough to feel sexy even if for just myself.
==
i think, maybe, i need to take care of myself before i can let anyone else in. its not fair otherwise, to anyone.

{nothing]

2008-01-09T16:13:00.000-08:00

Unreliable

A leaky gas tank

Betray me

It’s a cloudy day

Self centered

Among the daisies

Wait for me

Because I’m not giving in

Don’t wait for me

Because I am

Candy floss memories

Fading in and in and in

Slowly seeping out like that leaky gas tank

Moments make me laugh

And then I’m sad

sharpening

2007-12-05T12:16:00.000-08:00

like running, into something and bouncing backwards
a slingshot
its not taking too much work these days
no suffering, don't really know the concept
its mostly healthy
an enjoyable effort
feeding on luxurious calories
keeping it inside, the soul
happy to report, hip bones are sharpened
like a pencil, like incisor teeth
digging into my hands, when they're in my pockets

cutting onions

2007-11-30T13:26:00.000-08:00

you just took a knife and dragged it through my heart
slow-motion, like an old black & white movie
now i'm so numb, there are no tears.
slow-motion pain

notes

2007-11-27T12:32:00.000-08:00

when i wear these stilettos you can see the tiny bird-like bones in my feet

paperwork, it never ends
like a horizon

its snowing
right now
and windy. a white breeze

these shoes are not practical in the snow.

Being Healthy // Metallic and Lovely

2007-11-24T21:57:00.000-08:00

Being Healthy

Haunting me always
Sick desire to be perfect.
Cheek to cheek lover:

B.
Skin, electric touch
Sweeping hair, gently away
from Glowing faces.

C.
Pounding harsh pavement
Hurts like Hell (in a good way).
Wait for vibrations

D.
Eating normally,
Three healthy squared meals a day
Because I might Love:

E.
Lips are red and chapped
Come now, kiss them tenderly
You, my newest friend.

Metallic and Lovely

Oh when my heart Beats.
Perhaps I am a Vampire.
She who knows not Blood.

i forgot to mention...

2007-11-13T17:24:00.000-08:00

B B fucking C
what about A?
for all the other things we forgot to mention?
i am tired of reading about UN envoys and drug wars
rape in refugee camps
celebrities gone wild
bird flu
my dead grandmother's Alzheimer's
and what to do to prevent it in myself
and how to remember instead of forget
of studying HIV-1 and HIV-2 and AIDS
and realizing that there really can never be a cure
and all the rest of those African infectious diseases
(times 3)
and being frustrated at how easily malaria can be prevented
but how mostly we choose not to do a damn thing about it
one day, maybe it will all just become too much for the earth's core to hold up and we'll all just drown when the rock we destroy implodes
constant killing in the DRC
D is for death
middle east, don't even know what to say
Kingdom Come, revelations to the Sudanese
of India's supercomputer races
of eating disorders and american gangsterism
of pesticides
and why i should eat chocolate when i know better
because it will just make me fat
of acid rain
of plastic surgery and climate change
of kanye versus 50.
google became a verb,
i think i'll go watch tv.

like olden times

2007-11-13T16:56:00.000-08:00

what ever happened to the olden days?
to leadened sketches
romance on paper
to Audrey Hepburn's old soul accented words
that classy black and white silhouetted dream

a dream i had last night (but in colour)
i was in bed with a non-stranger, and the sky and
all its stars were overhead
more than a dark ceiling
instead, friendly shadows
filtered through moonlight
from afar.

2007-11-04T16:10:00.000-08:00

this was accidental
this fall into a non-direction
i thought that moving would make things more obvious
but i torture myself and shiver
because i don't believe in god. not one damn bit.
we're just faithless chess pieces praying
and playing with ourselves
i miss her, memories are like a forgotten time capsule
i am absent of him, dreams taped into a dark box

things i saw
they broke my heart more deeply than any lover could
and there is not a thing to do
no response, no prayers, no god to talk to
no way to explain my visions
or the terror that stares at me like an un-moving glass eye
no way to starve it away
the exhausted fear that there is nothing to do
and that everything up until now has just been an accident

2007-09-19T19:22:00.000-07:00

how come
i want you and you want me
and we can't do a thing about it?

history.
its a long highway, with wide turns that leave behind trails with tire marks
that never quite fade.

i could ask her
like a fiancé asking his future father-in-law for his blessing
but history likens it to pulling a leech off of the thin skin behind your knee.
painful
awkward
dangerous, like a drunken game of roulette.

sad, how things that fit together are polarized.
magnets. trying to attract a positive to a positive.
it should work, but it cannot.

its a slideshow in my head again

2007-07-29T16:15:00.000-07:00

its been far too long. here i start again.

people breaking hearts. mine unhealed.
ma huang. fluttering beats. open valve. torn on the left, just a bit. hanging, never repairing.
i've been a nomad for the past four years.
staying long enough in one place to take what has grown for me. selfish but never fully taking it in.
and then moving onwards, stowing away, ending up somewhere else
to start all over again. planting little seedlings. breaking through dry soil.
opening the earth.
disturbing the place and leaving it for newcomers.
leaving people behind, taking others with me.
i remember all those who left me, their travels taking them elsewhere.
i remember each hand touching me. he touched me just for a second in the eternity of everything. and i still remember each time we wanted to touch but didn't. or couldn't because we knew we shouldn't. each wink. each smiling eyelash.
each note. each electrical stormy breeze. each drunken sleep. shared cigarette. answering machines. the vodka lime. my nervousness. fabulous lips. hands. long lists i wrote to myself to try to understand these feelings i still have even though i'm in another place completely. away.

each heartbeat next to my skin.

none of it has meant enough.
maybe in this new space it will.

hello/goodbye.

healer

2007-03-04T19:06:00.000-08:00

i've given up
let go
or maybe just decided to be healthy.
an extra cellular burst
an inter stellar implosion
the skin around my fingernails
bleeding and raw
my blistered heel
healing my insides
my outsides make me act terribly

You

2007-02-08T19:16:00.000-08:00

Today was wastage
(I ate a muffin)
my thoughts are harmless
but they damage my ego.
i'm self-preserving, phobic of failure.
Do I ever jump, really in deep... (?)
No. I gently role out of his bed
and walk into my Snow White universe
To Wait.
My eyes are half-open. Half-alive
My memory is made-up logic.
And I ate too much today
Scales will jump, and I will fall backwards
into cycles.
Lacking other cycles...
monthly nothingness.
Numb. Did he feel my hip bones when I was numb?
Did he feel the bones crawling down my back?
I imagine each notch to be a milestone.
when I'm tired my words are crazier.
Because I think clearly creative.
Finger paintings
cold finer tips, cold on his face, cold in his hands, cold inside my mittens.
Running, running, running.
RELEASE.
A sign. Something, its not nothing.
People try to feed me.
Yogurt, Jack Daniels, Potatoes.
Please, just realize that while he was thinking of her, I was thinking of You.
far away.
in a city where I live, not now, but it is my my home.
and this is not. Home, it is not.
Home.
East Coast? Home?
Central, my heart is linked. But I know that
the continent in the center of the map is where I belong.
Heaven. The Hell of the world is my heaven.
Because there is only hope in hell.
Look past my coldness.
Look past my thoughts of You.
Rejecting his handfuls, I really just want to be beside You.
... the blue-eyed one.
In an electric charged air, in a stadium, in a bed with your sister on the opposite end.
I remember eating pasta and finishing wine,
and snacking on fish and chips.
Now, this notion that I can only reach You if I'm ethereal.
I can somehow float into Your world.
Surprise. I'm sitting naked on the edge of his bed, smiling but not happy.
6:30 am.
I should take these caffeine pills for breakfast, and rip my thoughts apart the whole day long.
Again. Detroit suburbs. summer, and then winter.
Feed me, but with Your god-damn beauty.
Your games, Your joint rolling in Your father's bachelor pad.
People see me as a weak-willed fairy tale character.
A big-boned stepsister.
East. Eating cookies. Listening to music on the beach, thinking of You.
Waiting. Do You know that I wait?
Like a universal traveller. Can We meet half way?
I keep writing. Trying to find what it is I need to say.
Words are so bloodless.
Protein bars, so that my silhoutte emerges.
Do I want to disappear? Or become beautifully visible?
Neither. I want to float to You.
without a trace.
without my weight pulling me into the Earth.
I'm just your regular Taurus.
reading horoscopes, magic eight balls. watching tea leaves in my empty mug.
Fixed to the soil.
A tourist in my own city, trying to conjure up clarity.
Someone once told me I was Jaded.
I remember eating Melba toast for lunch that day.
And a Power Bar and coffee for dinner.
To angel my jaw. To sharpen my smile.
To sit at the edge of the right bed.
To avoid fingers down the throat.

lovely bones

2007-02-05T20:01:00.000-08:00

again:

rushing down corridors, and through open doors, and never sleeping well, running lull on the treadmill, miles in a null neutral, on auto-pilot, thinking of nothing and everything all at the same time. and wanting something but not knowing what it is. maybe the morning will be better, than this sleepless night. an orange in my hand, and caffeine in my soul. a piece of yesteryear, a slice of pie on the counter. not in my stomach. but in my mind. and then, humming fridge, the trickle down of the tap dripping. i'm glad its not silent, that would be eerie. healthy democracies, background music, my humming eardrum, the distance between. here and there, nowhere. and happiness, somehow. a smile in the darkness. a 5 minute nap. a single piece of paper on my bedroom floor. random thoughts. an agglomeration of useless words. procrastinations. and the wish for lovely bones.

2007-02-05T19:39:00.000-08:00

things that should make me happy
make me sad
nostalgic. for something.
for everything.
for nothing.

my heart is a cave, an open cavern
ready to be filled with something malleable
please, please
soon
because its getting hard to feel this way.

because its getting hard
to fall asleep again.
my insomniac over-active, unfocused mind
is back and terrifying.
i don't ever dream, my sleep is wakening.

a solitary selflessness
a selfish jealously
all combined together
in me
in my cavern-heart

2007-02-04T17:25:00.000-08:00

humdrum.
this is so all over the damn place.
is it going to be messy?
or is it going to be nothing?

i think that your arms are beautiful
wrapped all around me
they make me feel beautiful too
like a golden wrapper around a stale hard candy
minty
exciting
or nothing much.

the mind is a trickster
it reminds you of the old during the new
no one knows why
summer days come sliding back, and februaries of last
rush into my heart
its not a broken thing, but its sad sometimes
the feeling of never knowing
but always caring

he's not in this city, and i'm not in his.
this is not my city.
it is a city i hate
for dreamers like me, this city just loses luster
and hopes become stale
like an open box of uneaten chocolates from last december

aim(less)

2007-01-18T21:56:00.000-08:00

another late night
watching late-night sitcoms
on fuzzy static stolen cable

and then, listening to the quiet calm hush
of cars driving on snow

imagine

2007-01-13T22:22:00.000-08:00

maybe tomorrow
now: cold feet under my covers (in the literal sense)
and a bruised toenail, blackened
calloused, so that they don't feel the tenderness
an early morning, but its already morning.
a late night that has passed.
my cold shoulders are pressed against the damp wall.
behind it is an alleyway
and there is a door, leading out to the street.
above, the two buildings connect to each other,
but i don't really know the neighbours.
i imagine that they are home at this time of night,
safely under cozy covers, unconscious to world
as this house is awake
as i imagine what is happening elsewhere. somewhere
anywhere but where i lie.
it is almost over here.
almost finished, completed.
tomorrow: new imaginations.

old imaginations. they always remain.
this blues-ey song.
this slightly off-key beautiful voice.
those words that mean nothing to me.
but so much.
i'm going, maybe up. maybe down.
maybe i'm just moving sideways, comfortably.
but looking uncomfortable.
no, its an awkward stillness.
and that's ok for now, because in a moment i will be asleep.
and i won't feel or think about this business anymore.
i hope i can fall to dream tonight.
i see my hands, i see my hands.
i don't sleep to dream (i NEVER remember my dreams, not since I was 6 years old)
i don't sleep to dream, i sleep to forget reality
in silence.

untitled

2007-01-09T18:52:00.000-08:00

naked christmas trees on sidewalks

bare ground, footsteps scraping pebbles

a single red berry on the wind stunted bush

photograph

2007-01-06T22:25:00.000-08:00

i don't want to be
like her
your sister.

these people are
judgemental
i am filled with
these emotions

intense
unclear

i am so happy some few moments
when i realize
i am good
i will be O.K.

shit. i can't focus
these days.
shut your mouth
shut my mind.

eye contacts.
shared
recognition
tell me, where is the ocean?

high,
me, i'm floating
somewhere.

i don't know where.

pen on paper.
brain to words.
words to meaning.

my heart
Palpitating.

late at night. so i can't close my eyes without fear.
skipping beats
or double time.

and in my mind: Kevin Carter's photograph
image
i can't breathe when i see it

when i dream.
when i dream.
i dream.

my black and white striped self.

the star on my sky.
the ceiling of my mind.

they wonder why i'm silent.
i'm sad when they reinforce their height.

filling me with negative
sensations.
they are not better or pure.

no one is.

this small pad of paper.
my mother's old notebook.
stolen lists.
with my words of what?
(of this
of you
of me
of me and you)

those days
these days.

are they different?
i think, yes.
only because i am relizing my self.
my weak ness
my hun ger
my friends.

distant
driving north
and east.

its early.
but i never sleep.
its late.

too much of something
or nothing.

sparkling wine.
why?
to do this, i can write.
with those flames sucked inwards
i feel my emotions again.

all of their faces
these recognitions
but i know none of them really
and surely: none of them know me

it is fabulous.
clarity in moments of intense fog.

where?
it doesn't matter as long as its not here.
who?
you.

connections

2007-01-06T17:10:00.000-08:00

no icicles melt this year
my memory freezes instead

out the backdoor, the cat escapes.
in the backdoor of my heart, he remains.

"see you"
see me.

teacups, coffee rings, emptied ash trays.
full garbage can. full fridge.

flash frozen veggies,
damp wind,
stale smells,
chirpy laughs,
small conversations.
woolen mittens warm my strangely cold hands.

they shake. these fingers. polished, painted unnatural colours.
gems.
vessels.

seemingly unconnected.
data, visions, senses.
like veins, these slide shows, flashing memories
they are related.

melting into eachother.

and like a circle weaving in and out
within and without
like smoke curling backwards
a reversal of the wind,
i see you from here.

there.
miles away in so many ways, distance time and feeling
you said "see you"
see me too.

every day

2006-12-02T19:00:00.000-08:00

There is a buzzing in my head

And a shiver up my spine

A numbness in my stomache

An ache in my bones

the sharp pain in my shins

It feels amazing

It reminds me of how hard things are.

How solidly my thighs pump

Durable fibers pushing pulling

Contracting

My heart muscle struggles

My lungs could go forever

The pain killers dull the stabbing sensation

Its good

Its great

I’m getting faster every day

I can breathe easier

I can get somewhere

Soon

i ignore

2006-12-01T21:03:00.000-08:00

is it true that this could kill me?
one true lovely referred to it as holding your breath
she is beautifully and terrifyingly violently correct
i hold and hold. my breath inside.
and when i reach the finish line (the line i set for myself)
i realize that my ambitions hadn't been reaching far enough. so i gasp
i extend my shaking hand forwards
i drop my sanity onto the ground, which is moving beneath my feet
i push forwards
for another breath
and i hold the air in
and keep going
afraid that if i stop i'll loose what i have
so i keep going
trying to be better
trying to find a perfectly straight line
taking a breath when i need it
letting it out only when i have to
this foggy mildew pink pill
one white, no more blue.
dissolving with my over extension.
with a sip of water
with a sigh for air

we'd be good for eachother

2006-11-26T19:46:00.000-08:00

yellow curving spiral
winding delicate around a blue ice orb.
Every colour reminds me of you.
But mostly blue.
That startling cold hue
that somehow always warms and smiles from your insides. out.
colours are mostly dull now.
meaning less without the knowledge that your visit could mean something.
to me. anything, if even just an answer.
Years break away fantasy and lack.
meaning. mean. less.
greater uncertainty in every angular vision.
i know nothing about you except that i think i love everything about you.

she said you were vacant behind your ice eyes.
simple, unflawed and unharmed.
but i know that behind the warm coldness,
there is something no one has quite figured out .
i know, no doubt, that she has you all wrong.
and that no one has you right.

she thinks, also, that i'm free of pain and hurt
(but i'm not so perfect, pristine, untampered with)
she doesn't know that i'm not free of the chains that bind me to hating myself.
(no one knows) that i starve myself (for you)

i quit smoking. you'll be surprised.
and maybe my empty hand will show you my empty heart;
numb but scarred
tissues cut over and over again... never to heal.
this organ of mine finds it hard to feel,
except you. it feels you.

because, you (innocently) cut the bloodiest wounds
without even realizing what you've done.
each hello is just another cut
followed by a long good-bye.
its not good for me. this bye. its not good.

as i spiral back to where i began.

---------------------------------------

comfort is

your hand on my wrist
you holding me to you
it would be the most complete contact
such pleasure
i would simply shut my eyes
sigh
and lean my body into yours.

raw berry blue

2006-11-05T19:09:00.000-08:00

mixture berries blue
liquid metamorphosis
Feeding failures
Liquefying soul
Emptying body venom
sickly sweet stickiness
vial of perfection
To cleanse lovely confusion
chaos is normal, being
being Falling eyelashes, into coffee cups
Downwards Drownings in darkness
In Brown, beautiful bold swill
Rinse away stinging aftertaste
Cutting throat
Burning, heat, raw
Licking sores
Healing wounds
Coating stagnant insides
deep well, vacant stomach
Juiced.

Juiced.
sap
Sugary sweet sucking energy.
Away.
Sipping down nothingness
Shedding wayward self.
Haunting rhythms inside,
growl for that old feeling.
Asking those, just as needy,
For something.
For a fusion, down.

Set alight.
Just make a pulp.
might as well be bruised brutal.
Disgusting perverted wicked fun.
Or nothing
bloody, barrenness
Bare, exposed rawness
lubricated love
Greased salt
Tears grease.
Please, groveling (useless vanities)
Give your placebo… then just walk away
And run back with explanations
Fire red flowers
Bouquets of justification
To rationalize primitive emotion.
Trial and trivialize souls

Then:

De-Science me

De-Liberalize me

De-Sensitize me

De-Burn me when you are done with me.

f.b.h

2006-11-04T20:58:00.000-08:00

f b h
i hate you
i hate the way i feel when i see your name
it makes me shiver
stomach turning
beauty and bestiality
synonymous: love and hatred
like birds and bees
my knees
buckle
my heart shatters
sinks
my mind pulls in two: dichotomies
and i scream
when i know you give her gifts
and beg for her back
she is smart to leave you (reducing her own heartache)
with your hands full of sorrows
alone, lonely

< 3 years

2006-10-24T22:23:00.000-07:00

its been < three years since i'm knocking on your door.

where am i, but further away?

my self is gone and the vessel that should be holding me is more damaged than ever.

give me a light, spark me my cigarrette. i smoke my soul.

my eyes have forgotten how to cry.
how to blink.
how to erase your image.
the ocular nerve, tired and strained,
is separate and severed from my brain.
yet, it is somehow sufficiently attached... enough to send me your image:
forcefully, and from far away.
a distance.
a memory.
a separate part from me. detached.
you don't realize this detatchment.
my detachment from myself,
as i try to leech onto you.

firefly

2006-08-23T19:29:00.000-07:00

i walk into your headlights
they are bright and round like the full moon,
two harvest orbs,
let me step straight into them, let your light shower me,
and crush me, if its you at the wheel
before i'm at another waters edge without you,
howling at the sky again,
waiting for you to return my moonshine call,
walk me backwards,
stop me from straing at the satellite above us,
fixed still,
painted beside the stars,
as we move, both of us in opposite directions beneath it
walk me backwards as you drive forwards,
into my midnight,
sleepless
sand
footprints
cloudless night dream
i feel this in the daylight too
i feel you crushing me
or are we just sickly firefly,
flashlight forgotten,
night-time strangers
i'm giving up, its morning soon.

after 2am

2006-07-16T23:17:00.000-07:00

i'm drunk and i thought of you. like every night. i hate that i have this spot inside of me... reserved only for you. like sand stuck inside of the hidden curves of a shell.

still

2006-06-27T13:53:00.000-07:00

3 butterflies clouding around each other
crowding the space between wings

mother duck
4 ducklings in a square
then 8 following behind
catching up

feeling something
wanting to fill the feeling with something else

changing futures
spelling out numbers
swimming one way
flying another
but mostly going nowhere

stuck

2006-06-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

stick
you're stuck
like a staple in my thumb
like a song in his head
like a finger down the throat.

fleeting
your touch is rare
like one of those perfectly realistic dreams
forgotten once the eyes open
an immediate loss in the morning
but to reveal something honest

i would sleep with you forever
just sleep
deeply, completely
naively, but lustfully

and in the morning i would wake before you
curl around you
a cocoon
and then i would open up like a flower when you rise

i'm like a child
wanting to grow up with someone like me
someone innocent but nasty
rusty but golden

aujourd'hui

2006-06-19T20:05:00.000-07:00

(i just got back from nova scotia. a small french fishing village. i had a lot of time to think there. i did some soul searching. i talked to some people. i took some risks. i wrote some love letters that i'll never send. i wrote a lot of poems. i'll post them here, slowly. sweetly. i wish he would read them. i'm a different person now. i've gotten older and wiser... but younger and foolish at the same time. i'm not really afraid of believing that my thoughts are real anymore. i've opened up my mind, my body is my friend again. i was honest with others and with myself.)

its a chance i took
and now i've been nervous for 4 days straight
here, they call me the little thing
la fille avec les yeux bleu
but there i'm not much
there, il y a un homme qui j'adore
et il ne connait pas
its a chance i'm taking
i'm maybe perhaps halfway there
a demi-circle
a rim of light around my pillow
a whisper i don't hear

----------------------------

all those other lovers aren't you:
...he touches my palm
traces his fingers
caresses my wrist
and when i wake up
his arms are safely tucked around my body...
and i cry, because i realize that its not you
and i don't know what to say to him
so i pretend that his hands are your hands feeling mine

made-up memory

2006-05-01T19:51:00.000-07:00

a coincidental, one-sided connection

the sleep with him
i was restless
feeling his warmth beside me
and knowing its impermanence

an airplane's tail
pulling across the sky, disappearing
like smoke from a cigarette

ashes
in a teacup
the saucer missing
a piece of aimless driftwood
a hand-me-down trinket
origins unknown

my one-sided love
my right to his left
my waking dreams, his dreamless sleep
me; awake and drunk
famished and innocent

fruit, grow your womb around my core
i wait to be sheltered
seeing my hands
floating across his body
a made-up memory

the last glacial period

2006-03-24T22:03:00.000-08:00

its been a while

she retreats
frantically, somehow moving forwards
on a treadmill
away from the images
gravitating towards them
expansion
a thread to carry her
pulling violently
connecting her unwillingly to somewhere
a contraction of the abdomen
a bouy, threaded to the ocean floor
a sea creature locked in a shell
oxygen binding to coral
carbon, digits and numbers
breathing hard
she forces herself forward

poesie

2006-01-30T20:42:00.000-08:00

i sometimes think about how you touched my hands
they were cold yours were warm
thawing

we need what is taken

in time
which is abstract

you have found happiness

write your songs
sing them
and be

spider elephant

2006-01-22T20:05:00.000-08:00

tattoo my wrist.

tie my hands back.

take a drag from my cigarette.
touch my fingers.
its not enough.

"you only live once"
i will listen every day.

mould my heart.
plaster pieces of white gold together with white glue.
don't pretend its perfect.

sleepless

2006-01-15T19:27:00.000-08:00

writing poems on post-it notes
------------------------------

(count the lines
first 1,
then 1 and 2 for 3)

the sickness of first love
a decaying pleasure in the gut

the sleepiest eyes

(a spoonful
cut it down to size
with the edge of a dull knife)

he is beautifully drawn

confidence

2006-01-14T00:30:00.000-08:00

i've gone further than i ever thought i would
daring to travel
to a danger unaware; harmless in its outcome
a wonder drug
it does work
and i become who i should be
who i want to be
radiant
alive
sought after, catch me because you can
i am slow
wonderful and slow
quickly deceitful
but wonderfully slow
i swivel my hips (moving through the thickness) for you.

complemetary

2006-01-03T20:41:00.000-08:00

back to breaking the bank
breaking my lungs
breaking my long sleeps into halves
breaking promises
breaking my own heart.

--------

[wasted] poets... out there.
is your drunk poetry better than the rest?
(this was not a drunk poem)

the alchemist/hands to sleep

2006-01-02T20:11:00.000-08:00

4 months

i wasn't imagining it
saw your eyes in the rear
view mirror
looking back
at me
blue and curious
water pooling inside my memory
they made me cry for the want to curl myself inside of you
to touch
send a shiver through my veins
to flow with my blood through every part inside
alchemy of cold into warmth
lashes shy away when noticed
mine
and a hand on the shoulder
a lingering hug;
it was all but not enough.

in 2 months

i see my hands
handpick me
please
like an almost ripe apple
gently twist and pull
or like a beer bottle cap
pry me open
with you i only need to fall asleep
i think that then i would remember my dreams for the first time in years
a deep sleep for as long as you are asleep
the longest of my sleep in years
and finally restful

fermented fruit

2005-12-30T17:28:00.000-08:00

i can't see how i look
and i don't care
this fermentet fruit has made me me
me
please see my beauty

2005-12-23T20:20:00.000-08:00

In the newer of times
I will start back at the curl of my spiral
Where I began to stumble
And I will work backwards to diminish myself;
it is the most empowering result to disappear slowly
To control, once again, the body's desires
fighting natural order
forgetting hunger, releasing endorphins
Powerful flow of functional beauty
So linear, it misses the chaos and wonder of disorderly imperfect sublime
I promise to melt away, like ice in an empty glass
to leave behind a pool of clarity,
a foggy dew
capillaries and droplets.

--

These useless vitamins do nothing:
Multiple, B, all in complex
zinc headaches; splinters, detatchment from the spine
self-prescribed bullshit
Please don't force this down my throat and into my lonely gut.
Because I can do it for myself.
Measurements and obsessive amountings to nothings
My image:
imagined as something else
both better and worse
a tightness
a curling spinal column
an imperfection on the skin
a thickness from my bones
it expands and erases
multiplying and deleting
The vision:
a blurring dizziness, pathways, in dim lighting stretch with vacant shelves full of the need to be filled with something other than this.

concave

2005-12-20T10:55:00.000-08:00

give the moment a minute
feel the repition
give in to the body's desire,
the wish for a lungful of words and smoke
-- all in a sigh
a chemical hope
a fabric cacoon
milkweed soft
comfortable chill on bare skin
a piano's authority
-- beautiful cacophony
slurring lyrical movement
frozen fingertips
touching warm solid flesh
delicate firmness
a concave love

Toronto Transit

2005-12-18T10:31:00.000-08:00

Reworked from October 2002:

It was cold, waiting on the platform. I could see his breath. He sat down next to me, shivering, wearing only a thin sweater. "In Jamaica," he said smiling, "I could wear my cotton pants every day, cut just below the knee. Here, my lips chap and my eyes tear." Waiting for the train in the frozen winter, he remembered his past. He shared it with me, a complete stranger, rocking back and forth, cupping his hands together, trying to find warmth in this "sinful cold country."

three scenes

2005-12-14T18:38:00.000-08:00

Would it be acceptable?
To travel to his center, to be caved in and covered
by his dark skin.
It would be OK to cry there, for him.
Safe; even though it is he who has so much more to cry about.
Or can I crawl towards those other closed eyes.
Absorbing myself into another.
Crossed elbows, covering his chest.
He too would probably accept my tears
even though he doesn't speak my name.
===========================================
the scent of un-ground coffee beans. Shade grown 'Afrika.' Lazy days, they haven't been here for a while, in the minds of us, the serious. Maybe too deep, that lovely sound of crisp tipped pencils in old thin papered notebooks, the layered flick of pages turning. Music in the foreground, guitar, piano, his voice, he's 'fucking high' and we're all so beautiful, humming. To leave this place we all imagined hurts. In my heart, like that aching needle she gently stuck into my arm to take what is mine and give nothing. Taking but no giving. Leaving my muscles weak.
--------------------------------------------

saw

2005-12-08T21:31:00.000-08:00

I feel like a saw with no edge.
Misinterpreted in my actions.
Do you think I’m petty?
I’m not, bitches,
So why do you cut my dullness?
It hurts like nothing else.
Blunt.
I have nothing; no solid to go back to in you.
Do I?
A ranting emotion.
Over-such,
And dizzy exhausted circular,
Sweat.
Disappointment has never felt so sore.
Associating memories with silly conversations,
And my own double-fucking-standard,
Bullshit:
You know me better than that.
I don’t know why I’m not trusted to act as I would.
Does distance really do this to people?
A physical bridge that makes me doubt,
Who we are.
I don’t expect explanations,
Or god damn platitudes.
My gestures aren’t tokens:
Ride on the subway,
Toronto transit here I come,
Suitcase,
Packing up life,
Transport me back to what it was,
What I wish it remained.
Butting out a finished smoking waning want,
Filtering the past away,
The final one: I wish it weren’t and it isn’t.

(post 42)

2005-12-04T23:28:00.000-08:00

clouds fast forwarding

tree branches frozen in positioning

and a skittering across a black cat's path

comment

2005-12-03T21:07:00.000-08:00

"do you ever feel like you're living in a beat poet's nightmare
i can french kiss in your despair
suffocating in the open air
if i was on the road jack i would burn that car to the ground
straight to the ground" - euphony, matt good band

morbid yawn
tarot cards
pick one up
toss it down
sip of water
flick
bite nail
twisted ankle
bend shrapnel
cover eyes
twitch
amputate these thoughts

------------------------

its like when you get stuck
listening to the same track over and over and over
night after night
the record isn't skipping
you put it on repeat
and the words are the same
"cheap and see-through"

-------------------------
japanese pear
a yellow orb
imperfectly smooth
in the palm
------------------------
FEEDBACK LOOP:
hello you.
if anyone is reading this, i'd like to know what you think.
no one makes notes anymore.
i'm just curious.......

this is not a poem

2005-12-01T23:12:00.000-08:00

My poetry has been really horrible lately. I don't know what it is... but re-reading it makes me cringe. Its embarrassing. I think I need to take a step back. When I read yesterday's entry I feel uncomfortable with it (and I want to delete it but I won't because I need it to remind me of what not to do). When I look at some of the early poems I feel this same way. It goes in stages. It always has.

I need to take more photographs. Its really my favourite thing (and dancing too). Other than writing, when it turns out well. Not this garbage, lately. I only write well when I'm being completely self-centered these days. I used to observe everything, everyone, the most minute details; almost invisible motions and senses. My best stuff was from 3 years ago. Its not great but should dig some of it up. I will during the holidays. Rework it. Its at home, in my "writer's craft" journal: High School. I've digressed. Maybe its just harder now because I feel like everything I write is somehow stolen from something else I've just read. Too much inter-textual insertion indirectly unanticipated influence.

I miss the days of small classes and being too afraid to speak; too scared to share my words with the circle. That feeling is still the feeling I get every time I have to put up my hand and give my opinion. I have one but its mine and I'm terrible at voicing it. I can write it out it in words for you, though, on a sheet of flimsy paper, and read it aloud from the page. But from my mind it too chaotic, un-linear, disorganized. And I know I won't say what I mean.

I've always had that problem. And my memory is terrible. Good focus, bad memory, horrible thought patterns. Its a dementia of sorts. And that terrifies me. Early onset. My Grandma had Altzheimer's... skips a generation and more common in women. I need to develop my mind more. And drink a lot more Green Tea. It tastes good any ways. It will be a New Year's Resolution. For a new day. More.

Because 5 minutes after I watch a movie I forget it. I forget the main character's name.

At least my grammar isn't terrible. And I can spell (but not this late at night). And I'm always thinking. About everything I see... I repeat the image in my head through words. So visual. But then I forget the sentence I create before I can write it down. But no one would read it so its just for myself.

Self.
Selfish.
Self-- I don't act selfishly outwardly. Only inwardly because I never fully share myself with anyone anymore. Not even 1,13,1,12,4,1. (I miss her)

Not sharing.
And that just hurts ME.

my window is open and its cold outside.

i want to write a poem. but i'm not going to let this turn into another mess.

thread

2005-11-30T22:38:00.000-08:00

grasping hands like if they let go everything would just end
children skipping-lou side by side
mother stuck in the middle

father where are you,
brother are you in trouble?
you, bright but complicated
we need to share these moments:

remember running in the sand,
and the grass stains on blue jeans
digging holes
scraping shins?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

voices with authority
usually that kind of shit pisses me off
but with you; it makes me descend into love
dive into lust
into shallow seas
i really want to touch you
you're so close
shivers away
slivers
a thread
just pull and we're connected

inertia's opposite

2005-11-29T21:54:00.000-08:00

forgetting to sleep
learning to walk
on water

charging up
glowing lamp-shade beige
chills

blinking lights
colour coding
no more panic

normalizing
becoming aware
waking moments

and my movements:

(i am graceful
but my ballet-dancing days are over
blisters on toes have healed
now my heels bleed
and i dance barefoot
studio dreams and realities
choreographing on myself
hip-swiveling signatures
callouses show my progress
inflaming tendons, ignored
grand gestures
simple details
weightless... grounded
contract/release:
catching the flow
technique
movement vocabulary
performing what i never speak)

up

2005-11-27T22:50:00.000-08:00

a bruise on the under-elbow of my arm,
bluish green tender leaf needle.
the scent of vanilla insence,
masks worry in my head.
just give up,
or wake up.
after 2 hours of sleep
to realize:
"there is a reason why we all do this"
i learn about what i am when i read
about those girls,
with green-yellow tinged skin.

......................................

he said: "there are politics everywhere.
look at your glass of water. that's politics"
a scar on his face

tomorrow/ Papineau

2005-11-24T22:32:00.000-08:00

i'm terrified for tomorrow
but i tell no one
its not the act, but the results
i fear
I.V.
not me
if i lived in another country
another time
i would be unvalued for this malformation

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

papineau
take the 15 west
and then when you take it east
st. cats to champlain
see our three chairs,
thick with whiteness, greater circumference of circles, and wider width of structure
its delicate
we love it

short nothings

2005-11-23T21:36:00.000-08:00

"in pitch dark i go walking in your landscape/
broken branches trip me as i speak
just cause you feel it doesn't mean its there"
-there there (the boney king of nowhere), Radiohead
---------------------------------------------------

wrists that flex and bend

big boned and sexy

the way a man speaks
confident in content
stuttering through poetry

follow this
or that
----------------------------------------------------

fluff
bang
bash
song

candy floss hair

bombs

phone calls

funky drum beats
swivel hips
figure 8's

figure this out

--------------------------------------------------

crippled worried up all night
losing energy
inertia's pull
gravity makes us weightless
and responsibility holds down
us

---------------------------------------------------

i should work on something serious

2 am, again:

2005-11-22T22:15:00.000-08:00

i'm addicted.

i haven't talked to my best friend for far too long.
billy joel's "the night is still young", reminds me of her
and simple minds' greatest hits.

what does he want.

i have another school girl crush on an older man.
i'm still young.

now its "we didn't start the fire"
switch back one.
back to the beginning.

i'm addicted to nicotine now.

will i inherit my grandma's dementia too?
she left me that
and wonderful memories.
but will i forget them?

grandpa gave me coffee when i was little
too little
too young
i used to have cream and sugar.
now its black to avoid those extra few calories.

and i'm addicted

caffeine and nicotine

light it up again.
matched
with some One strange

this crush reminds me of a high school worship
an english teacher
i know he still remembers my name: "Hil"

and i'm addicted to writing the poetry he encouraged
words in motion
extended into space

an ant among the spiders

"piano man"

(i prefer the "U")
behaviour
neighbourhoods

this man doesn't really know my name
maybe a face
because i stare too
long

fictions

grandma's true stories
out of place and time

i haven't talked to my parents in a while
just to machines
and listening to oddly placed and timed messages
in space

am i barren here?
test me
i want to figure this mess out.

omi and api
stories yet to be heard

and whimisical
crushed
i imagine his solid arms

legs
wrapped
folded together
curling into warmth

this needs structure but its just as it comes now
non sensical
unedited
which is rare

i just erased that last line
(you can't know it, that thought)

i'm scared when i catch myself talking aloud
to no one
or when i forget what my brain tells me
plaque

oh oh oh oh
the night is still young
the world brand new
thank you billy

i should call her.
but now its too late.
or early.
time.
catch up to my thoughts.

i fogot for a mement:

i'm addicted

becoming zero

2005-11-19T21:01:00.000-08:00

pale

a part of a piece
of a dislocated rib
of a bone
over the heart
stolen
words

lack

closeness is far
away in warmer places
still cold
probably rainy

communication
so uncommunal
singular voice

lonesome

coffee without milk
as usual
missing something
to stay thin
water drinking

dancing

groups of people
feeling nothing
but others
no talking
affection
effective
affect
effect
what's the difference?
zero

becoming zero
the creative process
of loosing self
flesh
punctuation
grammar
distinctness

undistinct
short poetry
cohesively frightened
afraid

wanting
wasting

wanting to waste

away

development

2005-11-18T15:41:00.000-08:00

"Father Washington you're all mixed up/
collecting sinners in an old tin cup.
Sister Robinson you're all washed up/
collecting tear drops in a paper cup."
~ Supertramp, A Soapbox Opera

a badge
sparkling medals
lapels
glistening of bullshit
metal, bronze stinking smeared shit
unforgettable fire
voices sound
collective lie
communal deceit
voice of shit
drowing human stench
collective blindness
repetition of blindness
collective
collective badge
decay repeats
grows over top itself
web
frogs feet
decay stagnates
new growth
unimproved
unresolved
award another face
detached, distant
truly disinterested
attach another memento
attached
disconnected
glittering
fire
unforgettable
forgotten

irregular

2005-11-16T19:22:00.000-08:00

heart,
pallipitating;
like a Junebug's wings
in August
or September
fluttery, dying, dead.

November:
past the falling,
past shining,
past, caring.

NOW.
throat sticking
neck swollen
eyes drying.

benign tumor starts to grow
hormones forget to flow;
Barren.

why bother at all, my
pounding rhythm.

she told me that the heart skipped a beat.
when she listened,
eyes closed.

needle piercing vein
hand on wrist
vials
bandaged
bruised
rose red, deeper even;

in rhythmic intervals,
puncture deeper.
and the "me" will be gone
only the source
remaining

unreligious.
a number.
no letters.
a stick figure,
with too much flesh

October:
a failing.
the fallen
wing.

buzzing, whirring and rhythm
cease.

ignoring, years
forgetting
months.
minutes are what to live for...

pulse
irregular

first snow

2005-11-10T20:11:00.000-08:00

(you would never guess it)

brown watery bile
forcing up this disgust
sour battery acid sadness
a breakdown, after 3 solid months
chalky taste takeover
tepid
but the snow was bitter cold white today

(fucked up again
but its not what you think...)

its inside of me

[untitled]

2005-11-09T05:02:00.000-08:00

tendon, rubbing up against bone
a rough but soapy sounding squeak
tension, plastic band, rubber friction
expanding and aching
snapping in the cold
sheathing muscle fibers
scarring underneath
tissue, build up
a circular disc
a nodular bump
tightening, up
winding down

cameroon

2005-11-08T05:15:00.000-08:00

cameroon
around his neck
a piece of it
in ivory and bead
strung in a circle
a circle

i have it here
in my hand now
a line
a spiral
or whatever shape
i choose to make

thursday
i'll give it back to him
a circle
his home

st. denis & duluth

2005-10-30T20:24:00.000-08:00

chain
alone
walk
the streets
smoke
and drink water
and be
take risks
and move
bus rides
reading
a warm loaf of bread
freshly baked
and coffee, black
a park bench
and darkness
voices
after sunlight
a photograph is missing
forever...

moon

2005-10-20T19:59:00.000-07:00

restless
and the moon made me feel little tonight
a spot
an ash
in the breeze.
puddles from yesterday
power lines glistening with energy
moistness reflecting starlight
talking about things
conversation and smoke.
a good day
but restless.
we share the restlessness
all of us here,
unsure... not of ourselves
but of what we are doing with ourselves
with what we are doing here.
ashes to ashes to ashes to dust:
we won't be dust
we'll float like smoke
and find the answers.

beads

2005-10-12T20:09:00.000-07:00

a teaspoon of sugar today, with milk
she usually takes it black
sweet granular, the deeper the fall
bottom feeding on leftovers
tired eyes:
Open.

----

she's thinking
about the woman with beads
around her neck, a disc of patterns
traditional adornments
with a sweater underneath to keep her warm
in this bitter cold country
wind would bite through the thin, delicate fabric of her shawl
cut right through
her first visit
a bulky sweater and a million beads
every colour
but the gold and red stand out between yellow and white
she gave the girl a star, jewellery
to remember this day

---

and the wind cut through the girl but the coffee keeps her warm

My confessions in fragments

2005-10-11T19:25:00.001-07:00

Today I failed to starve myself
And the cigarette I smoked made me guilty
Dry Lips
Walking home
I saw a few lonely stars in the sky
And I felt like someone was following me
Maybe it was my own shadow
Tomorrow will be full of bones.

poetry

2005-09-26T21:04:00.000-07:00

sometimes my poems don't where to begin
or end.
there are too many words and feelings:
opaque meaning,
diaphanous confusion.
its self indulgent.
I don't know my own feelings well enough to explain them.
finger curl around raindrops
(its impossible)
windy and cold, but not bitter-
sweet, clouded memories.
I make things larger than they are,
magnifying details
all night and all day.

pallipitations

2005-09-15T21:41:00.000-07:00

hmmmm.
i feel alright.
like a good strong cup of coffee.
coffee. some milk. no sugar though. strong.

racing.
myself and others.
learning to run.
its like learning to walk all over again.

things will be ok.
because there are colours.
because there are tactile things.
and things to imagine.
feelings.

steam.

open window

2005-09-12T19:14:00.000-07:00

open window

what the fuck is wrong
with this picture
a cross section of anger
where does is come from?
rip, tears, tendril, rocks
screaming screaming screaming
silently fucking rotting, wasting
grey matter
words flow
continuously in the brain
abstract in print
a flowing substance that can't be made sense of
2 am, open window
fitful and furious
or maybe just confused with confusion
terrified, anxious, anticipating
vocabulary can't explain it
but poetry calms
even if no one reads the words

The Lovers

2005-09-11T17:03:00.000-07:00

Lover

crowns of sunlight
apples and wine

whispers

Choice, or Invisibility
crush me with your whispers
your silence
your hand resting on my shoulder
your distance crushes me
my Invisibility
choice, each movement is a calculated decision
with fuzzy logic, bottles, empties
cigarette stained fingers
i'm empty
but full of your whispers

crush me
i wish we were Lovers

dreaming inaction

2005-07-18T19:37:00.000-07:00

FOTOGRAFICO » AFRICA (Kenya)» by ALTRI STATI

This is the first picture i have not taken
here, all are mine but this

i haven't picked up my camera for a while now
or wrote any poems

i am waiting for better days
i am waiting for the inspirations of experience

adventures i dream of having are no longer enough

# 3

2005-04-12T22:07:00.000-07:00

# 3

the pictures on my wall don't include my life here
i don't know what to say, or how to act, or what to be
and i'm afraid i'll never know

i need a snapshot of my life today and tommorow
not just years ago

SEE

2005-04-05T21:38:00.000-07:00

april 2003

See...

a narrow pathway
of colour in the sky
green flecks in blue eyes
a smile that leans to the right
unstable rectangles of golden sunlight
falling onto bare bricks and grey floors
footprints
an apple
smooth flesh reveals core
a lost piece of paper
perfectly crumpled imperfection
dust collecting in the corner
crack in the wall
simple
common
beautiful

see

camera obscura

2005-04-04T18:59:00.000-07:00

"The act of reaching for a lighter or a spoon is familiar routine, yet we hardly know what really goes on between hand and metal, not to mention how this fluctuates with our moods. Here the camera intervenes with the resources of its lowerings and liftings, its interruptions and isolations, its extensions and accelerations, its enlargements and reductions."

-- Walter Benjamin
from "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction"

camera obscura

thaw

2005-04-03T17:29:00.000-07:00

creaking cracking flowing
broken pieces float

melt
warmth

i don't know what to say

thaw

farm field through moving car window

2005-03-31T17:03:00.000-08:00

vast

open space
soil and dirt and fog
thick through glass
motion speeding and landscape stretching

tendrils

2005-03-29T09:46:00.000-08:00

why have my insides become this
horrible monster that eats me up -
or starves me until I consume my surroundings?
a cycle of starvation
and now a constant battle of
measuremunt
self-measurement
worthless tendril
uncomfortable fullness
stuffing up what was previously starved and empty
but worst is the silence
each curl will open over time
tightness unwinds
my insides normalize

tendrils

a million tender pieces

2005-03-28T22:16:00.000-08:00

droplets

imagine all of the worlds beauty
trapped in a drop of rain
before it can be caught
as it is falling to the ground

cold and translucent beauty
softly sounding on the windowsill
sharply sounding as the wind drives it into the
windowpane
it can never shatter the window glass
but it fragments the heart
into a million tender pieces
an explosion of beauty
fragments

wonder wonderful wonderfilled moments
become a part of the horrid
the dirt
the scum
beauty is trapped in tear shaped droplets
like a delicate pearl caught between two shells
a sigh, a yawn, a warm whisper, a kiss on the mouth
the sound of the rain as it falls
it all last only for a moment, until the raindrop
hits the brown earth
soiled by violent rages
forgotten for more important things
battles and cries shred the heart into a million
bloody pieces
shredding beauty and ripping apart what should remain
intact
a pain that lasts forever

maybe this night
the raindrop is a tear
a tear falling from the moon
she cries for us
a sliver or a circle, she is sad
her face reflects beauty from the sun
the sun who burns his rage upon us in frustration
harmonious, moon and sun both see the world from above

together they complete their endless cycles in perfect
peace
and with every repetition they see our mistakes
the moments we forget and the moments we never notice

venus boils and mars is frozen
lonesome in their beauty
we float between them
oblivious
waiting for everything to shatter into a million
different pieces
and maybe then some of the beauty will scatter through
the universe
to meet with another star and another satellite
a seed of beauty, a pearl of tenderness, a tear of joy
a perfect raindrop caught in the palm of a hand
to remain in perfect orbit forever

2004-09-06T16:29:00.000-07:00

combinations

2004-09-06T16:21:00.000-07:00

Nations Uniting

OR Geographic Landscape

one
or both
or all

clarified

2004-09-02T20:09:00.000-07:00

blur

things are clearing now. tommorow will be sharp

care-free

2004-06-07T07:54:00.000-07:00

let me be free of these problems
these mistakes
swim in clear water
and bathe me in sunshine
gold like a fish

swim away

lost boys

2004-05-27T08:59:00.000-07:00

of the past
neighbours and friends
lovers for one night, or even just 30 seconds
which will come back to me?
the boys who left only to return as friends?

two lips

old friends, coming of age together

2004-05-26T07:30:00.000-07:00

standing or sitting
calloused heels
pretty bits of flesh
uneven skin
dancing on dry earth
or damp grass

foot forward