The glow of the present
i wish that i could put the taste of morning coffee, some recent blossom of winter, words spoken yesterday, clean cold air, soft in my room, loudness in my car, runner's high, bloom of night stars, the glow of the present
and send to you the small of life so we could share today
27 October 2015
23 October 2015
17 October 2015
01 October 2015
"a view with a grain of sand" wislawa szymborska
we call it a grain of sand,
but it calls itself neither grain nor sand
it does just fine without a name
whether general, particular,
permanent, passing,
incorrect, or apt.
our glance, our touch means nothing to it
it doesn't feel itself seen and touched
and that it fell on the windowsill
is only our experience, not its
for it, it is not different from falling on anything else
with no assurance that it has finished falling
or that it is falling still
the window has a wonderful view of a lake,
but the view doesn't view itself
it exists in this world
colorless, shapeless,
soundless, odorless, and painless.
the lake's floor exists floorlessly,
and its shore exists shorelessly
the water feels itself neither wet nor dry
and its waves to themselves are neither singular nor plural
they splash deaf to their own noise
on pebbles neither large nor small
and all this beneath a sky by nature skyless
in which the sun sets without setting at all
and hides without hiding behind an unminding cloud
the wind ruffles it, its only reason being that it blows
a second passes
a second second
a third
but they're only seconds for us.
time has passed liek courier with urgent news
but that's just our simile
the character is inverted, his hastes make believe,
his news in human
we call it a grain of sand,
but it calls itself neither grain nor sand
it does just fine without a name
whether general, particular,
permanent, passing,
incorrect, or apt.
our glance, our touch means nothing to it
it doesn't feel itself seen and touched
and that it fell on the windowsill
is only our experience, not its
for it, it is not different from falling on anything else
with no assurance that it has finished falling
or that it is falling still
the window has a wonderful view of a lake,
but the view doesn't view itself
it exists in this world
colorless, shapeless,
soundless, odorless, and painless.
the lake's floor exists floorlessly,
and its shore exists shorelessly
the water feels itself neither wet nor dry
and its waves to themselves are neither singular nor plural
they splash deaf to their own noise
on pebbles neither large nor small
and all this beneath a sky by nature skyless
in which the sun sets without setting at all
and hides without hiding behind an unminding cloud
the wind ruffles it, its only reason being that it blows
a second passes
a second second
a third
but they're only seconds for us.
time has passed liek courier with urgent news
but that's just our simile
the character is inverted, his hastes make believe,
his news in human
27 September 2015
WORDS FOR EMPTY, WORDS FOR FULL
on feeling invisible
the problem with this is that when you are not acknowledged, when you cannot see yourself mirrored in others, when they do not reflect back to you, like answering your questions or laughing at your jokes or responding to your greetings in an appropriate way, if your sense of self is not immensely secure, you
begin
to
lose
it.
the problem with this is that when you are not acknowledged, when you cannot see yourself mirrored in others, when they do not reflect back to you, like answering your questions or laughing at your jokes or responding to your greetings in an appropriate way, if your sense of self is not immensely secure, you
begin
to
lose
it.
22 September 2015
LOVING SOMEONE WHO IS EMPTY
empty people love empty things.
i can't wait until i see your face and my brain thinks that it's looking at a stranger
i can't wait until i see your face and my brain feels nothing
i'll feel nothing.
i can't wait until i see your face and my brain thinks that it's looking at a stranger
i can't wait until i see your face and my brain feels nothing
i'll feel nothing.
20 September 2015
MELATONIN
you gave me happy words, the ability to make eye contact with strangers at age 22, but mostly intense fear of intense feelings. knowing i cant get stuck here
a bomb in free-fall not yet detonated
cant sleep or eat, need something for the physical effects
enskyment.
live for heartfelt truths of the moment.
find the people who would do anything for you, and do everything for them.
i feel like myself again. losing touch with myself and minimizing my opinions and attributes for others makes me feel horrible. one summer lost. future fall next to the sea. snowy cities, metal scraping skies. grad school is fucking me up. clinicals, three exams, presentation, lit review due wednesday. im applying for extern/intern. seattle still feels right. nyc feels right., im calling the hospitals this week
im going to new york city over thanksgiving. i havent seen andrea in three years. i need to get out of here. im writing again, im thinking things again, im in counseling, all of that feels really good ,need someoine who makes me feel more like me. loss sucks, no matter how necessary or predictable.
a bomb in free-fall not yet detonated
cant sleep or eat, need something for the physical effects
enskyment.
live for heartfelt truths of the moment.
find the people who would do anything for you, and do everything for them.
i feel like myself again. losing touch with myself and minimizing my opinions and attributes for others makes me feel horrible. one summer lost. future fall next to the sea. snowy cities, metal scraping skies. grad school is fucking me up. clinicals, three exams, presentation, lit review due wednesday. im applying for extern/intern. seattle still feels right. nyc feels right., im calling the hospitals this week
im going to new york city over thanksgiving. i havent seen andrea in three years. i need to get out of here. im writing again, im thinking things again, im in counseling, all of that feels really good ,need someoine who makes me feel more like me. loss sucks, no matter how necessary or predictable.
19 August 2015
COME HOME
lately, cant find the inspiration to keep being
would love to be splashing in my grandparents' pool, sneaking cookie dough from the mixer, crinkling the candy wrappers in my grandfather's shirt pocket
singing songs with myself on the front porch, volleyball on the roof, hands and forearms red and bruised, catching frogs, fireflies, not worrying about losing myself
i've always been alone and fine. absurdity is the view society has on solitude. feeling small again.
would love to be splashing in my grandparents' pool, sneaking cookie dough from the mixer, crinkling the candy wrappers in my grandfather's shirt pocket
singing songs with myself on the front porch, volleyball on the roof, hands and forearms red and bruised, catching frogs, fireflies, not worrying about losing myself
i've always been alone and fine. absurdity is the view society has on solitude. feeling small again.
05 August 2015
REALIZATIONS AGAINST PILLOWCASES
Aug 5, 11:49 pm.
realizations against pillowcases
falling asleep next to your heart sounds for six months now
heavy, full, lightness, touch
you follow my movements away from the light, loyally
your breathing becomes my nighttime soundtrack, your fingers my nighttime touching, your kisses my nighttime longing
the time of nightthoughts is the space where people begin to believe in love
i believe in your breath, your heart sounds, your sleeping fingertips, whispering mouth, warm body, and finding your shoulder as i empty my day into you.
07 July 2015
THERE, GLOWING INTO YOU
reading direction labels on bathroom products, standing under the falling water, washing your curls, making rainbows on your chest
twisted, following your shoulder to the end, knowing that there, i will find your hand, everything is on the tip of my tongue
we are learning how not all people show love in the same ways
finding home in summer gardens, trash-filled alleyways, my parents' sky, male dress codes and cover charges, too spicy mustard, cleaning days, the search for radler, jumping onto the sparkly tiles walking home from downtown.
twisted, following your shoulder to the end, knowing that there, i will find your hand, everything is on the tip of my tongue
we are learning how not all people show love in the same ways
finding home in summer gardens, trash-filled alleyways, my parents' sky, male dress codes and cover charges, too spicy mustard, cleaning days, the search for radler, jumping onto the sparkly tiles walking home from downtown.
15 June 2015
THE LIGHTING ON THE TOMATOES
My dad's senses go,
manual simulators like batting cages,
bikes swimming through swarms of mosquitos,
black shadows against white and square illuminations,
hair sticking to our skin,
the fountain isn't as deep as my surprised fingers thought
i said i saw elbows falling off into the bushes,
flashlights shone at us through the glass maze on the lawn,
mouths moving but neither of us could decipher anything outside of mumbles,
we decided to leave anyway.
Fruit fly traps,
i found myself lost for an hour filming fireflies on flower banks in the darkness of my parents' home,
i forgot the feeling of conscious in summer here
in terms of blood and treasure
with New Words rolling out of your mouth, i turned to find the scissors in the drawer
you repeated it again, asking if i could stop leaning against your knee like that,
and a third time, tonight, "i can't see."
Wondering in the car, on the way to get bomb pops and tomatoes, how long it had been.
manual simulators like batting cages,
bikes swimming through swarms of mosquitos,
black shadows against white and square illuminations,
hair sticking to our skin,
the fountain isn't as deep as my surprised fingers thought
i said i saw elbows falling off into the bushes,
flashlights shone at us through the glass maze on the lawn,
mouths moving but neither of us could decipher anything outside of mumbles,
we decided to leave anyway.
Fruit fly traps,
i found myself lost for an hour filming fireflies on flower banks in the darkness of my parents' home,
i forgot the feeling of conscious in summer here
in terms of blood and treasure
with New Words rolling out of your mouth, i turned to find the scissors in the drawer
you repeated it again, asking if i could stop leaning against your knee like that,
and a third time, tonight, "i can't see."
Wondering in the car, on the way to get bomb pops and tomatoes, how long it had been.
05 June 2015
16 May 2015
GRANDMA
as i was walking up the stairs
i met a man who wasn't there
he wasn't there again today
i wish i wish he'd stay away
i met a man who wasn't there
he wasn't there again today
i wish i wish he'd stay away
13 May 2015
27 April 2015
WHEN I GET HOME
when i go out
i look for someone like you
so that i can feel hurt again
how can i be angry at somebody loving me
cause that makes no sense
how can i be angry at somebody not loving me
cause that makes no sense
mi mye.
i look for someone like you
so that i can feel hurt again
how can i be angry at somebody loving me
cause that makes no sense
how can i be angry at somebody not loving me
cause that makes no sense
mi mye.
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