February 2012
5 posts
2 tags
Seventy
The view from this side of Summer tells me rumors about light, it asks me about glaciers of delicate blue and the stark darkness of cosmic space, we walk together, it chatters incessantly like a child, it is clumsy and unafraid.
I pricked my finger reaching further than I should have, there were small drops, forming like tiny cherries, filling the ridges of my fingerprint, the child stared, eyes...
1 tag
Sixty-Nine
and when we were younger, we skipped the questions like, where do babies come from? and asked, where do thoughts come from? and what color is blood in the vacuum of space? we poked and prodded at existence, with all the curiousity and wonder of children discovering some constantly shifting-gooey-thing while playing outside. and we grew so slowly and steadily, like trees, that we sometimes missed...
1 tag
Dear,
all of the suspended golden particles of dust hanging in the air, bathed in pristine silence, while morning nudges us awake like a child the front porch is so much softer before the day begins - the way the mischievous wind tries to tangle our hair, how we laugh it off, using kisses and fruit to untangle any stray sleeping thoughts the day gradually shifting into its familiar forms, while we watch...
Anonymous asked: What is love? Please, I am dying to know your answer.
1 tag
Sixty-Eight
The word “volatile” comes to mind, the flick of the syllables, that sort of push and sort of pull - a book of matches in a back pocket we’ve always been patient as pebbles but still ready to jump. talking about how Sarte found supreme freedom in a concentration camp, about how Cape Verde’s revolution nearly ignited all of Europe but nobody mentions it, how history throws...
January 2012
6 posts
1 tag
Dear,
Your back is so full with poetry that my fingertips wander endlessly in an intoxicated haze of your freckled syntax, gliding through pages, those great pages of yours, i’ve carved shelves out of myself just to house them - these days, we are both overflowing i confessed all of this to your hips, in such delicateness it could have been mistaken for an exhale, and how i worship at this temple...
1 tag
Sixty-Seven
it is an edgeless field, bountiful with laughter and gold light, pure enough to allow us forever standing the way we always have, emptying ourselves into the other, never becoming any less full while the days melt, and the years fold in on themselves until they fit into our pockets we watch the world and its dawning suns, all seven billion of them, and how they ache to sleep softer sometimes, we...
1 tag
Jillian
something softer than the light, that is ever-shifting between us, but stronger than the slow turning tornado of all the things we’ve yet to do your kisses planted something in me, something like a rising moon in fall, something left to be harvested in the depths of winter to keep warm this is how easy it could all be, you shouted, while running into the ocean in february, our breath almost...
2 tags
Sixty-Six
Let’s mix handfuls of earth, ocean, and sky, add a few stars and call it home. Read me books and nutrition labels and I will kiss your arms. Bare feet on tile, moonlight pure and smooth as coconut milk, trees all humming the same song, porch swings, windchimes and fields as vast as oceans. Let your warm back teach my arms what it means to hold, i mean really hold, like the way this orchard of...
1 tag
Dear,
you are those stray rays of sun strong enough to reach into the ocean that we’ve wandered to in search of each other the words dance like children on the shore, barefoot and smiling dissolving into the sky
the sky that is you and i reflecting the ocean staring into this world that we’ve made. Love,
1 tag
Sixty-Five
we used to be so tired that we couldn’t sleep, the fire in us burned too bright, we didn’t know what to do with it, we would try to get way too close, way too fast and it would leave our trust singed, edges too sharp to hold but we worked on sitting more comfortably in these bodies that we never chose steadying these shoulders, while the years tight-roped around us not really...
December 2011
7 posts
2 tags
“so today,
from my snap-chested heart
spraying,
fully flying,
sending out...”
– Buddy Wakefield
1 tag
page 81
their bodies are weathered houses from a lifetime ago, with overgrown lawns and wild flowers around the porch, even growing through the floorboards in some spots. the whole place sways and creaks with the wind, and there are lingering memories, throughout, that feel like a girl in a sundress lying in the grass at the start of spring with the smell of rain lightly resting on all things, like only...
Sixty-Four
this is for the table-for-ones, the tired smiles behind the hesitant glances and all of those kindling whispers that haven’t quite become conversation instead of staring into the lake of memory, tossing in stray thoughts, hoping the ripples will change, let’s drink wine and virtue from the cupped hands of moments that have been begging to know us for far too long and jump and yell into the night,...
1 tag
Dear,
the sand drifting beneath these dark waves, dancing with the reflection of the sky, is you your form is the softness that is gently pulling towards the point where all things meet, it is where we are now, where we’ve always been the peripheral world of children and horizons and lovers who speak like lions and stand just the same gently pulling still, with the edge of our smiles disarming...
1 tag
Sixty-Three
beneath these trees that stand like martyrs, chins up, bare shouldered-branches holding the sharp sunlight the only way they know how, our breath floats higher and higher, our conversation grazing the sky, words doing what our pocketed hands can not even with these winter nights stretching too far into the days, trying to quiet these anxious feet, we walk for the sake of something bigger than...
1 tag
Sixty-Two
at 12th and Ave C, i laid in a dark room, flicking the flashlight on and off, trying to understand how the light could go from fingertips to ceiling soo quickly
this was well before i learned about Einstein or metaphysics or the stages of a female orgasm at 41st and Ave U, the winter bit down hard and wouldn’t let go, we played music to keep warm, even thinking of it now makes me shiver but...
1 tag
Dear,
you stir inside of me like a fever, an edgeless storm, gathering around my lungs, i feel you with every breath, the electric clouds are loud but softer than your hips, my fingertips agree this slow burning fire flickering in morse code across the gentle glaciers of cosmic space, speaking in volumes of silence, is hungry for something inhaleclinchrelease listen, let’s just sit, somewhere...
November 2011
9 posts
1 tag
1 tag
wordswithmypulse: sometimes when my atoms slow and the air is very cold and the sky seems crowded, I think of you and it all comes together and these words fill up with the strangely beautiful love that is ours and I want to fit as much as I ever could into words and never stop. inertiatic: even after these words strain to hold all of that light, even after they burst open, sending waves of sun...
1 tag
Sixty-One
there is so much poetry in Fall that I have to duck and lean and step over the trillions of words and syntax that spring out of every moment of silence in conversation, every blip of static in the afternoon traffic, every redorangeyellow burst of life that is on its way out they gather around my feet, tripping over one another, trying to be noticed, i collect entire armfuls and pass them to...
2 tags
Sixty
and with leaves in our hair and dirt under our fingernails, we discovered the world in small handfuls, in tree branches, in the color of clouds at dusk, and eventually, in more first kisses than we ever thought we’d have. We grew, quickly, with yesterdays leapfrogging into tomorrows, watching the rain on the windshield blurring the street lights into the rest of the world, the way people’s lives...
1 tag
1 tag
page 124
We are not abandoned cities with downed telephone line-veins that once connected sixteen year old lovers, past their bedtimes, seven days a week. We are not lonely playground trees trying soo hard to hold onto the last autumn leaves. This heart is not a war-torn church, broken hymns and pews, echoing with a thousand unheard prayers - it’s a woman in a white dress who’s hems flow like the ocean,...
2 tags
Fifty-Nine
the overcast clouds, that mute this tired sun, are not heavy enough to extinguish the fire that we are kindling beneath these smiles that hang like battered and beaten welcome signs in 1950’s gas station windows, just say something, because we’ve always been clumsy and fluent in bouncing back the days hemorrhage, Time is bleeding out, minutes by the gallons, seconds collide into...
2 tags
Wordswithmypulse: hanging off of galaxies, planets upon our shoulders, whispering to Luna of everything that cannot fit into words. we are everywhere but touching nothing. veins that span light years and we watch the stars die. bursting like citrus, hot, flash, shimmer, gone. Inertiatic: breathing the eternal, sitting quietly with Time and Death, their hearts humming loudly, at the edge of all...
1 tag
Dear,
It’s the little things, like summer rain soaked hair splayed across your face, the one-two tap rhythm of the downpour on leaves, chin and palms up with nothing to do but smile, those loud smiles of yours, they’re the ocean, giving me endless amounts of seashells to carry around and hold up to my ear, listening to the echoes of that invincible part of you the one from the whispered...
October 2011
11 posts
1 tag
page 135
I prop myself on my elbow and you stir a little, dreaming of something that may be forgotten, washed away by the haze of morning, but for now, we are here and the rise and fall of your breathing turns the covers into gently rocking waves that grow softer the further you reach into sleep. Your warmth is a summer morning and I am sprawled out under it’s tree. You reach through the dreams...
2 tags
Fifty-Eight
most days i remember, right before the night finds us, breathing in the subtle waves of sleep that are always gently swaying inside, rain on the tip of my tongue, and further down, still, a great storm of passion and fearlessness swells and contracts with the pulse of these days our fire-lined stitches, who’s ashes all whisper a trillion forms of forgiveness, remind me of something from...
Anonymous asked: are you the marriage type?
1 tag
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page 138
There’s the sun-set, it’s turning into the night-set, our-quiet-place-where-we-play-house-set. We’re almost at the part where we lay, until morning wanders into our room like a sleepy child and crawls into bed with us. I’ll do the dishes if you hug me from behind and just stay there awhile, let’s stay here awhile, we’ve never needed anything from out there,...
Conversated with Anis Mojgani tonight, I can die...
vivelagaia asked: Can you explain your ideas on how we came to be and what is to come?
2 tags
Dear,
You are the strange beauty Dali never imagined. The ink, the quill and the scratch of form on parchment paper.
You are bakeries at dawn, children stirring awake, you are the sun that all flowers lean towards.
You are the shipwrecked words, rusting at the bottom of these oceans of thought, you are the core of these ideas that float like jellyfish in the shifting flow of imagination
You are the...
1 tag
Dear,
It is so calm here,
summer has been folded and tucked away, the night is quietly alive with the stars singing their light into the trees - wrapped in the crisp wind of change. the town sleeps, grumbling through occasional stray traffic and the electric vibrations that hint at something greater
in this room the air is as soft as the acoustics of falling leaves, these fingertips and lips -...
beautifulcommunication-deactiva asked: if you could sum up your life in one sentence, what would it be? (please don't be too general)
1 tag
page 74
and crossing the plane from meadow to forest was like walking into a church. if it was night-time, i bet these trees would glow. can’t you feel it? even now, their presence emitting from the all spaces inbetween the ink of letters and paragraphs and stray puncutation of all these books, on all of these shelves. do libraries glow when all the lights are off? and i remember wondering if the...
September 2011
11 posts
4 tags
This song is the reason I started playing guitar....
1 tag
Fifty-Seven
she’s a waterfountain on the moon! that is to say, a mess, but so is everyone. we are all subtle charm and easy-words on the outside, and raving lunatics on the inside. a mass of people trying to sustain themselves with stale ideas, waving around “i love yous” like loaded guns. waiting for the laughter to become a little easier, after a few drinks. this is what candles in winter...
1 tag
page 23
and we’d talk about all the people that we didn’t meet today, on downtown streets, in grocery aisles, and we’d imagine their families and friends and fears and aspirations, and she would stir the cream into her coffee, really slowly, so that it looked like she was whipping up a new galaxy. and she knew that i didnt like coffee so she would bring me a hot cocoa, and she’d...
1 tag
page 72
and we play rock-paper-scissors, to settle important matters, like who has to turn on the shower, that is, get sprayed with .5 seconds worth of freezing water, and while it warms up, we undress each other in front of the mirror and always end up forgetting about the shower all together and have to balance between playing and washing before the hot water runs out. rock. paper! damnit....
1 tag
Cheyenne
With the ancient machinery of this swirling universe, pumping and turning,
pushing and churning, the gears of our hearts, the elastic bands in our knees, the wonder in our fingertips, that all stands on the edge of language, going unnamed alongside the burning truths inside,
we will catch a train with empty pockets and the brightest light swelling between, filling the dark spaces of us,...
Catching a plane in five hours,
sitting in my boxers playing guitar.
Tell me,
when was the last time you did something for the first time?
beautifulcommunication-deactiva asked: can you describe a memory that makes your heart swell up?
1 tag
Fifty-Six
do you remember laughter?
and the little words were already being washed away, a syllable at a time, into a sea of static and white-noise conversations and weary faces that followed, not so far, behind with the electrically interfered thoughts trying soo hard to make their rounds, in straining minds, obscured by clouds
but we counted raindrops, for the sake of time, and the moments were so...
1 tag
Fifty-Five
There was something I meant to do yesterday, the idea of it floats like a leaf in the lake of mind, every new idea makes ripples and if i dont catch it immediately! the leaf floats further and further until it’s out of sight
this house is full of those, piled and stacked to the ceiling! in the very center of them, there’s a girl with a tiara of flowers sitting cross legged, revolution...
2 tags
page 107
There is gold spilling in through quiet windows, and the residue of our dreams is lightly dusting that faraway place in our eyes. Sleep is fighting wakefulness in a battle that never seems to have a clear a winner, and the birds are chatting about something important outside, maybe their view, maybe us, maybe the physics of flight.
Sitting up, I can already begin to feel ideas start to coat who...
1 tag
Fifty-Four
I am tired, but you very much know that
so you rearrange the letter magnets on the fridge to say
b
evolve
o
v
e
Next to them theres a smiling face in the background of a picture from 3 years ago
in another 3, there will be one of you holding our child up to a water fountain
post-its that say: photosynthesize the ache into the release, be the breaks in the...
August 2011
22 posts
1 tag
Dear,
We are merely stars, in this constellation-bedroom, burning through the push and pull, the ache and release of these days hand-stitched by record skips and broken piano strings with crooked smiles who quietly thread silver lined songs into every half-hearted sigh
this music pours, we have bowls and pans, on the nightstand and bookshelf and in the middle of the floor where it sneaks through the...