autoerotique

furious

I know you said nothing. twice. again.
so much nothing. but then
I caught you shaking
I caught you
shaking
and you blamed the cold
but I know it was more like the heat
or the something
whatever that was.

I know this is what happened, but I've been losing sleep
my mind wanders
and winds
over the details that meld into blur and then fade.

In the morning with the snow falling
the ground is shining through my window
and my toes wiggle the blankets to anything closer to warm
I can smell the air seeping through the cracks of the house that whistles in the wind
and it smells familiar
and not like you.

ez

The Best Way to Know a Person

I’ve been seeing the human condition suffer from a lack

of physical contact, so they turn

to masturbating

their iPhones and Blackberries in public.

In subways and in schools,

on aeroplanes and buses,

in front of families at dinner tables, while

driving or in the movies and

at funerals.

I would like to say to these people:

"If you want to connect with somebody

so badly then

why don't you just fuck them?"

june second. twenty ten

in the space between our words fly feeling like haphazard beings of locomotion

not yet classified as flight they are free from the talons of The Label

the deep set weight, the pressure is building and this one is not to be jumped off of, this one has a metallic structure only constructible 

in a pitch-canvas tent were the absence of vibrations are the playdough of the welder-gods 

and the outcome is something no hijacked plane can ever crash into

The muffled echoing of snow 

feet movement 

under a static blanket

the absence of sound is not silence but rather something akin to death. silence is the presence of the pure,

white and black light meeting in the embrace of joy screams, 

without noise we are rendered visible to all,

our perceptions a changeling no longer willing to live without the birthmother, returning home it shall find the silence, 

silence of a horses hooves on the bones of it’s master, 

the travelers son no longer wants to be the calling boy, he has left and will not return, he goes in silence and leaves behind…the absence of sound.

within our silence is held all the noises that were not made, not yet uttered, all the meaning that we meant, floating, 

crushing 

our lips             our sense              our vocal chords 

straining, can we reach the language of the divine and return to tell the tale in the tongue of the masses, 

let us communicate under the excruciatingly inadequate noun.

silence.

oblivion.

write about a silence.

coat my mouth in honey

i want to bite you
hard.
i want to watch
as your insides,
your silent bits,
seep out,
to stain the floorboards.

i want to bite you.
hard.
i want to see the movement of a cheek,
under a tingling palm become more
than could ever have been foretold.

i want to bite you.
softly.
i want you,
its temporary,
everything, everything
don't take it so seriously, there's a now
a moment.

i want you to bite me.
hard.

rub

So Much Happiness

By Naomi Shihab Nye

It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness.
With sadness there is something to rub against,
a wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,
something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.
It doesn’t need you to hold it down.
It doesn’t need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,
and disappears when it wants to.
You are happy either way.
Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house
and now live over a quarry of noise and dust
cannot make you unhappy.
Everything has a life of its own,
it too could wake up filled with possibilities
of coffee cake and ripe peaches,
and love even the floor which needs to be swept,
the soiled linens and scratched records…

Since there is no place large enough
to contain so much happiness,
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,
and in that way, be known.

i am dedicating this to A.S.
i love you girl.
may we always be as carefree, loving and free as we were that day on the beach.

the distance of time

within the timezone

of the mushroom girl

i am left  -mapless-

within the timewarp

of the carbon emission

i am left  -lifeless-

within the timelaps

of our separation

i am left  -dreaming-

within the timecapsule

of our bodies

i am left  -hungering-

within the timepiece

of our society

i am left  -bedraggled-

within the distance

of time

i am contained.

young pilgrims

i am leaving early
[tomorrow morning]

traveling

behold the unreached
traveling

acquainted with no one
traveling

i'll not miss you
but when i'm done
i will miss
traveling

my hair is a new length.

my kind of awesome

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Parabolic whimsy

today i was a child.

i was a kid. 

i was young. 

i personified joy, innocence.

tilting, sun light, nah: sun warmth

breeze,

in my hair, 

my face, 

under my arms, through my fingers, 

swirling round

collide

rock playthings

yellow roadline hopscotch

 tightrope success

in my ears

beating, pounding

the wind, the rhythm, the sun, the lyrics.

laughing, beaming.

today i was a child.

this space is themed

waist adorned with apron strings

she -nonetheless- saunters

this space is themed

Tuscany: chipped paint,

peeking-tom wood grain

china

retina jab of colour

digital standstill

two hour laundry, pre instantgratificationism

this space is themed

Scandinavian: bear hug elegance,

toe curling comfort

blood

legfire delicacy

this space is themed

marrow churning, subconscious alliance

this space is themed

Ocean: acidification

deepsleep rhythms

goose flight equipment

womb light

under the bed there dwells

plainveiw secretwhispers: unfulfilled eroticism

this space is themed:

my 3:00 p.m. Scotch neat

my bottle of Valium

face adorned with laughter

she -nonetheless- falters

this space is open to suggestions

red rabbits

revert to childhood.

the anticipation is stronger

the taste, acquired

the hunt, innocent

my mind tightly focused

on you

the,

chocolate bringer

the,

waffle maker

the,

camouflager

the,

greetingcard resurrection

treetops

i was thinking about treetops, high places. doves don’t perch there do they, they’re ground birds

did we make them that way, us with our pitchforks, cement pathways our crumbs?

...high places

i was wondering if you’re scared of heights, if so, how much? would you jump out of a plane [with me]?

do you prefer sweet or salty or spicy? if you had to only feel one texture what would it be?

my linear questions are predictable in the way that D means drive and daisy is yellow

why do we still have neutral in cars anyways? i don’t know what it’s used for…coasting down hills? it’s fun

Predictable.

we could look at each others eyes for minutes, flickering focus

‘n i feel as though i’m falling in a hole

traps set out by my mind and
i’m setting myself up to fall with overthinking panic

if the world was muted, could we live in it

lets go barefoot on sandless beaches

perch in treetops because there the highest places around

lets think of encompassing delight, because I am no longer the one who can give the light

i am the girl who bites her lip when you’re on the airwaves, the one who beams when you write to me, the one who is memorizing you, the one who is scared to show her weaknesses

i want to do everything with you
in treetops

in high places; let's see how trivial it is,
how much we live in this moment is our doing          our pleasure

i'm a secret

My tongue, stained purple, slips past

your sugar-slick teeth

residue covered chins, intrude

sticky, excited fingers, hesitate.

Your breath is orange

sweet vanquishing tang

our mouths, left-over chill

numbed taste buds.

The sticks fall, disregarded

eyes glazed with glucose

coated in popsicle love.

Rootless Tree

Chased away by the day
For reasons unexplainable
Time flew by, as you threw your watch to the sky
Every minute slipped, And time was to swift as it left, I never catched it
I ignored the fact that it was going somewhere
And i was wasting time waiting for it
I wish i could slow down time, so My mind could imagine places, and I'd go
No notice, just hope that imaginary places let you fade into other generations
Therefore time wouldn't need to be paused, it would simply rewind


To rewind would mean,
that watch never thrown
now watch as we'd each grow
the places we could go
you could paddle, in my ducky-yellow pond,
push past the grocery line to the edge of reasons
grapple with annihilation
as she started the Staring Contest
oops,
I'm slipping from my apple-branch-perch.

She fell.
Into more than someones arms, but into someones life
Like a baby newly born
Inspired by the relationship gained within a period of time
She usually wouldn’t have the same interest on her mind
But she did.
Observed.
Chopped up perspectives, like a new form of cutting
Utensils unnecessary, but a heart willing to brake open
Felt right, vulnerable, she placed it on the table in front of her
He fell in.

Past self consciousness
past subconsciousness
into flesh lands un-chartered
shivering through shafts of light,
discarded thoughts lay strewn
prostrate and unabashed
concealing beneath them nothing but their imperfect reflections
We are the salvaged halves,
the leftover fornication's of righteous undoing
we who created you,
shall take it away,
throw it to the yipping lambs and marvel in each others halo-shadows
we, who play with the muddied shoe strings of the slain prince.

___________________________________________________


The normal is me, the bold is by D. He is a love. We were just bantering back and forth and this was produced.

Written 25/12/09.

Untitled

i am going to wait
slumber and envision

lick moisture from your
fatigued neck
cup you in the palm of my
innocent hands
 trail your scent though my daydreams
etch the hollow below your lip into my
starving mind
construct geographical maps of you callouses

tenderize the knuckles
make nice the bed

I sip
disappointing tea
from a chipped
blue china cup

you were never here

though i may taste the salinity
hold the weight
clutch at the scent
trace the hollow
recite the capitals

take note, the elasticity
tug the sheet

and taste the tea

you were but a
whisper


(Written 25/12/09. Dedicated to H. C.)

Dance

Dance, when your broken open.

Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.

Dance in the middle of the fighting.

Dance in your blood.

Dance, when you're perfectly free.

Adoration

I can break off from anyone,

except the presence within.

All I know of spirit

is this love.