a spring of june

june 10, 2010: A.M Weeding with music. The calls of birds, the squacks and squawks of ducks and chickens, like the grating of cello or the tinkling of bells. Music I can’t take with me. The rolling brook, the quiet of the country road beneath the endless sky filled with clouds that promise rain at 3 pm. (Shenpa overcomes you, it’s sickly sweet) The simplest pleasure of watching a slug with anticipation as it drags its 6 inches of slimy guts along a skinny twig…when will that twig snap under it’s weight? Or is the slug an old hand at this trapeze? Ah the rain will wash it all away to a new forsaken land and I wish I had me some butterscotch.

Break the lamb’s leg so she cannot stray.

june 26, 2010: Thank you Gene Logsdon. Parsnips are easy to grow, potatoes a plenty, broom wheat, soybeans, apples, cherries, squash, tomatoes, sheep, goats, chickens. My farm blossoms in my mind with only four and a half more weeks of washingtonian paradise. the summer is short.

a final essay

leaving this terrible petri dish of a city they named after some fruity hispanic saint.this is a final essay, one of two. the second one is only half complete but it sucks. this one is bombtastic though. enjoy!

Professor Kim 12/5/10 Asian Philosophy Philosophical Application Paper

In this essay I defend the central feature of Buddhism in that enlightened living is attained by comprehension of emptiness and compassion. I have spent an entire semester studying Buddhism from both a scholarly lens and experiential lens however I am not a Buddhist. Like all religions, Buddhism tries to explain away the suffering of the world and arises out of a need for self-control. I subscribe to the central Buddhist ideas of emptiness and compassion, but see where they are not applicable. Using the insight of both Guy Newland and C. Goodman and their prescriptions for perception and compassion, the central features of Buddhism, emptiness and compassion, will be contextualized from a personal lens.

Emptiness is the axiom of Buddhism and stems from the Four Noble Truths. Number one of the Four Noble Truths is that all beings suffer. All humans suffer, and all animals suffer. Animals suffer more than humans because they are trapped in a separate realm, devoid of consciousness. Human beings alone have the ability to recognize the origin of suffering as an attachment to the self as well as all desires that the ego clings to. The third pillar of the four noble truths reveals that human beings have the ability to eliminate the sense of a deep self and all egotistical attachments. This elimination can be achieved throughout a lifelong devotion to the practical path, or the 8 Fold Path, that will also eliminate suffering. In elimination of suffering one cultivates enlightenment.

The thesis of emptiness contrasts the Western thesis of the self. Western thought strongly believes in the deep autonomous self. As we have all experienced, this only creates a vicious cycle of suffering. As the deep self is in control of his or her own desires, the self becomes consumed with attainment of the sequential desires. Happiness may be attained temporarily, but ultimately the self is the composer of his own perpetual suffering, as his desires never cease. As Guy Newland addresses, this may be contingent to the delusion that “we actually have a very solid kind of existence” Newland goes onto explain that if this were the fact of reality then “it would mean that we could never change.” (Newland, 7)

Individuals who have let go of their notion of deep self, having extinguished all fires of desire, are free from suffering. These individuals have also embraced their ever-changing nature. While these individuals do not neglect their needs they do not indulge in them either. They are organized and capable enough to provide their bare necessities while perusing a purposeful livelihood. These individuals who have attained such detachment from the notion of the self must still participate in the world of those who continually compose their own never-ending orchestra of suffering. Bodhisattvas, individuals who are liberated from suffering, are titled thus because they undertake their duties that include not only propagating the dharma of emptiness and enlightenment, but also being compassionate to all beings. All beings include friends, enemies, strangers, plants, and animals.

It is not only a pursuit of high morality that compromises a Bodhisattva to strive towards doling compassion to all. Within the thesis of emptiness is embedded the thesis of interdependence. When a human let’s go of his attachments to his deep autonomous self and the self’s desires, he begins to recognize the interdependency in all things that he perceives. This exercise is continual, and must be practiced until it is volatile and cannot be separated from this person’s perception. The perception of this person will evolve in such a way that there is no deep division between one perception and the whole. Without an essence of the self, there are no walls between one body and the environment and all things are contingent within one environment.

The Bodhisattva may walk into a salad bar and see all of the different vegetables, and he will understand that these half-alive vegetables are not separate from him; they too arose from the ground to be nurtured by time and sunlight. Also non-interdependent from the soon to be consumer of vegetables are the individuals who picked these vegetables, washed them, packaged them, delivered them, sliced them up and organized them into containers, not one of these processes existed independently of anything else. In Buddhism, everything is connected and everything is a part of the whole. However, without the aggregates of the whole, the whole cannot exist.

The issue of perspective complicates Buddhist theology. We must distinguish between conventional perspectives and the ultimate perspective. The ultimate perspective in Buddhism is always explained by emptiness and that after all of the different claims from various conventional perspectives, emptiness is behind them all. Furthermore, one must work with both perspectives, but reject delusional conventional perspective by way of the truths proposed by the ultimate perspective. For example, I may hold a vegetarian perspective and see eating meat as wrong and distasteful, however the ultimate perspective will claim that there is nothing to feed and thus no reason to differentiate in what (or whom) we choose to eat.

While another conventional perspective may view my vegetarian perspective as a delusional means to conforming to some social status, I assert that my claim for a vegetarian perspective stems from my comprehension of universal interdependency. One of the puzzles of Buddhism asks whether or not the awareness of interdependency causes compassion. In most cases, when combined with good morals, interdependency certainly brings forth compassion. When a person realizes that everything he or she does will have an effect on the universe, then he or she is inclined to behave with compassion towards all beings. Therefore, it may be said that I refrain from carnivorous activity because of my awareness for interdependency, as well as my compassion for all living beings.

I do however eat plants. A normal vegetarian perspective would view fruits, vegetables, and beans as the trinity of their diet. While I do subscribe to these regulations I discover it to be a challenge. It is difficult for me to go to a regular grocery store and see the graveyard of vegetables, strewn across a platform and bathed in artificial light and to drop a few into a plastic bag, pass it under a scanner, and feed the corporation dollar bills in return for my sustenance. I have no idea where these vegetables originated from, I do not know of the environment which they were bred in, nor do I know whose sweat and energy went into their cultivation and harvest.

The thesis of interdependence could be utilized here to claim that it does not matter from where these vegetables originated from, because they have always existed and they are a mere part of the whole universe involved in a constant cycle of energy. However, it matters to me because I am compassionate about the food that I put into my body. I require that the food that nourishes me was also well nourished and cared for. Thus, I am perpetuating a series of compassionate actions from soil to bowels, to soil again.

Once again, the thesis of emptiness and the universal perspective could be presented to oppose this part of my conventional perspective parcel in that there is no body to feed and the act of eating is only an indulgence to sensational desires that should have been abandoned long ago. However, even the Buddha realized that we must walk the Middle Way and feed ourselves, however modestly and earnestly. Therefore, my compromise is to grow my own food.

I will sustain my physiological needs for nutrition by returning my energy to the food that I cultivate. Then, I will be eating again and again the energy that I have returned to the soil. When I eat the cucumber that flowered from the seed that I sowed and watered and weeded and harvested, I am actually eating my own expended energy. Some new energy is added thanks to the sunlight. After all, we are infinitely grateful for the sunlight.

Ultimately, we owe everything to the sun, from our existence, devoid of essence, but illuminated by the sunlight, to our perspective and the other four skandhas that we are made of. I will introduce the idea of the five skandhas here because it supports both the thesis of emptiness as well as the thesis of interdependency. Human beings are composed of a body, sensations, perception, volition, and consciousness.

According to Buddhism, our skandhas are in constant flux. The arrangement of my skandhas ten seconds ago, as I was highlighting all that I have typed so far to format my paper to be double spaced, and the arrangement of my skandhas now, as I take a break from typing to have a sip from my teacup, are different. While physically I may appear constant, I am changed. For one thing, my finger muscles have deteriorated. Every second that I spend looking at the harsh computer screen, my eyesight becomes more poor. Due to the moisture of the atmosphere that has seeped inside my dorm room, my hair, skin, and clothing are all deteriorating. However, because I am alive (as opposed to my clothing which is woven from dead and processed plant fibers) my body regenerates itself because of the interconnectivity of my cells. For example, new skin cells are produced, new blood cells, new proteins take shape all of the time. Also, I am changing as my body processes the sip of tea, changing further as it begins to break down the chemical compounds of the herbs in this tea, extracting nutriment from water, stimulating my kidneys which stimulate my bladder, which eventually will stimulate my hypothalamus to stand up and walk to the restroom. Our composition is never inert.

Furthermore, according to the Middle Way of Madhyamaka Buddhism there is no causal efficacy without intrinsic nature. Thus, the five skandhas have causal power, that is they can both transmit signal and response to stimulants, but they do not have a definitive internal core. They too are devoid of essence.

While they are devoid of essence, the five skandhas are not shielded from anything. In today’s world, we constantly expose our skandhas to a cornucopia of detriments such as radiation, noise pollution, carbon monoxide, and other toxins. This is why I resent living in San Francisco where my psyche is constantly bombarded with superfluous noise and odors, residual stress and energies, the exhaust of so many thousands of bodies constantly respiring in and out, and artificial light to present a few. There is no sanctuary from the excess of stimulants from the bustling city.

Fortunately, our sensual receptors are not so acute that we can sense every hiccup, honk, and car accident that occurs in one interconnected environment. Instead, they are muted to perceive only a fraction of sensory stimulants.

In opposition to my conventional perspective and dissatisfaction with living in San Francisco, one might claim that I am attached to a delusion about this place. Who can complain when the warm sun is shining brilliantly and the western breeze from the ocean sweeps away all harmful toxins? This is a beautiful place. Meanwhile, the Buddhist would tell me that the only way to relieve suffering is to analyze the structure of suffering. Is it conventional? If so, is it invalid, as in a hallucination or a dream, or is it valid, do you actually perceive detriment to your health by being alive in San Francisco? Ultimately, the ultimate perspective structures my delusion as invalid or valid, it doesn’t matter, because either way it is without intrinsic nature, thus empty.

In conclusion, analyzing the structure of our suffering can be achieved by way of meditation stabilization. Meditation has the power to heal because it forces individuals to slow down the reassembly of their skandhas and to focus on emptiness, which reveals the truth: the universe is devoid of essence.

who am i?

i want to be alone
on my lonesome own
i want to own my lone
and be all alone
own my woods
and master my trees
on my own
all alone.

cook for me my plants my animals
company is plentiful.
danger
adventure
it’s sure to come
but i’ll have the strength
to take whatever on.

i could be all alone
the greatest hermit you’d ever see
i could be all alone
awaiting for him to find me.

surely it is possible
amongst the great big plane
surely it is possible
to become invisible.

only may he who is meant to find me.
be the only who is lead to me.
i am an animal.
a homo sapien at that.
the loneliest creature on the planet.
in the woods she’ll find her catch.
and before then? you talk of experience…
tastelessness
sinfulness.
on cusp a virgin
a whisp of innocence.

for love of july

July 12th 2010

I assume you find me beautiful
Though you’ve never spoke it so.
I read it in your clear blue eyes
They’re always hungry for me. for more.
Over spicy cabbages and millions of mushrooms
Did I realize that you’ve got a crazy stare.
You must be a little crazy, for I can’t find a flaw.
I want to harvest flowering fruits sprouted from your seed.
The most beautiful child that I could ever conceive would be ours.
You ripped off all my sunburn and left me here to burn.
Cold alone in my twin sized bed, dreaming with the breeze.
Spirit lives in solitude and then you bring company for spirit.
She is happy, she is warm, she is amused and entertained.
Now the warmth of weekend’s over. Excitement is subdued.
I will work the week away. Dreading the end of each day that rolls into
one more night spent without you.
And in between rows of carrots and beets I thought I dreamt up everything.
Aleta, Robert, the garden, this town, the beets, even Jesse too. Everything
is just as I would like for it to be. Everything is perfect here.
All I wish for right as now is a bit of warmth from this blanket
and strong silent rest.

July 21st 2010

Sunday night slumber
on a cloud of cotton
neath a sheet so white
smooth naked creamy skin
gliding over dreamland
I dozed and I awoke, so fraid you’d leave me.
So I slung an arm back around reassured
that you’ll never leave me.
With a hand on your hair
your giant mass of golden hair
dreded til we part
So nice it looks in the morning light
how it curls to frame your sweetly chiseled face.
Now you can leave me be.
I’ve had enough, it’s time for you to go.
Be alone once again.
Oh no! you gasp what a silly thought
to slip out of your pretty lips.
You’re beautiful, you’re my darling.
I’ll keep you around as long as I can.
And may God give us love in the time that we do have.
I want to play mancala on the beach with you
and build us up a palace out of mud and twigs.
We’ll line the gardens with timeless cairns of stones
that the tide topples over in the middle of the night.
When you’re near me I’m at low tide,
fully exposed, as far as the eye can see
when you pull away, I do pull closer
when you are far I miss you terribly!
But the weekdays are short and the weekends
they’re long as we maximize the sunlight,
moonlight, our light that we share.

July 22nd 2010
My favorite songs are lullabies
smoking a skullcap as I write
smell of lavender and wood burns
knitting a cap so red to wear so brave
so bold in the city streets.
His femininity compliments the heartless man in me.
His warm smile melts my stony complex of disposition.
All bared within this matrix of pure love.
Paint with berries, watch color fade from pink to gray
green is my world.
The things I can’t stand to say to you like
I want your flowers like babies want…pollinators.
I’m truly

a new john

february 2

drugged up. crackers n cheese.
drugged up. not even asking please.
give me a break.
swoop woop woooooooo

and the best banana i ever ate
was shared between me and you
bite for bite
slowly soothing our hunger pangs.
slowly stepping through
the japanese garden
in the land of port.

atop the hill, and we could see
the lovely hooded stone
where high energy vibrates.
resonates. it shakes.
shake me up.
break me off
a piece of that banana.

and i cannot look at a banana peel
without remembering
how funny it was
that you dropped your peel
in the garden.

-clumsy-

today i was a clumsy one
i could not hold a wedge of books
nor could i sail up the many steps
i could not grip the slippery stamp
and i could not sip from my glass jar
without slips of embarrassment…
i could not speak for my voice is weak
i could not skip for my boots are heavy.
many times i’ve cleared my throat
it hurts it hurts
cannot be cleared.

many looks i did ignore
for i cannot look at you
with all of these sores.
blisters and pus
cankers and sores
scores upon sores
all over my face.

one fat blister hanging onto my lip.
a colony of bacteria
chillen on my chin.

my grace is gone
my grace is depleted!
i have used up all the space
that was once reserved for the beauty of grace.
now all that’s left…well i do not know what.
but something’s been lost
with the gain of this hideous disease.
i have been cursed.
i am cursed.

-john-

rawed up ankles
and i’m chewing on skin
been a bit out of touch
with this rhythm of words of mine.

know i do
it’ll always be
reliable for a passing few

the maze of feeling grasps me once again
i feel i was led astray… and all i’ll ever want is
to be held. safely, strongly, lovingly…

and this music makes you walk with your head ducked low
your shoulders slumped, humped like the whales
dodging about, dogging down so low.
stooped down touching the ground
your ears dripping with liquid gold.
heavy heavy heart, transcend all desires.
i cannot transcend, i cannot hide it.
always will i be one part of me.
what is the past? what is what’s past?
how does it reveal its ravels?

and i love everything you showed me.
i cherish everything you’ve told me.
i’ll float high on the music
that keeps your spirits high.
i watched you rockin out
banging it all out.
detached from it all
but the pound in your eardrums
your sweet greasy eardrums.
your pheromones they’re working!

sweet tangerine
vitamin C and potassium
eat up eat up
two at a time
one two three bites
spit it back.
give it back.

affectionately
you’ll leave a bit for me.
to clean your plate
and i am sustained.

and sweet barefoot, just remember
that there is nothing you can do
that can’t be done.
you are limited to doing.
to knowing.
to desiring.

you desire to know what there is to do.
please don’t poison your beautifully pure body.
slender grace

why do i love them tall and skinny
sticks of bones clink together as we walk
i want to walk by you.

and now i bite my fingernails
calciuming my teeth. my nails my bones.
my bones i cannot touch
my bones i cannot see
soon soon my soul’ll be soothed
for i made a prayer to the powerful shrine.
the image imported from asia that always grants a wishful plea.

be careful what you wish for…
i think i will die…
my life line’s not broken
but rather doubly enforced.

winter is blue

you didn’t even give me a full chance
but i’ve come full circle
back in my room
back on my bed
diane’s soothing
trees creaking
talking
my friend is all near
you my old friend
are no longer any friend
you could’ve been nice to me
you’ll never be nice to me.

that is what i’ve come to see
and come to hear a lot more n more.
thought it might be changed
better n all.
but you are growing divergently
incongruently to my growth.

my growth stretches me out far
to a limb across the land…
to a new land
where i will work the land
and know the land.

as i know our land.
thanks for the tour
in your old pick up truck.
thanks for the tour
through your old crazy head.

thanks for the beer
oh how my stomach burns.
thanks for the beer
drink what’s yours and
eat your meat
you’ll die tomorrow.
just as you please.

burns of ms. guthrie
burns of ms. clara.
burns of papa guthrie
burns of woodchuck’s old head

burnt down home, one after another…
a name of wood, burnt so easy by flames.
flames are meant to burn wood, to destroy all elements…
oxygenated combustion reaction…
burn bright and burn slow…

o i fell in love with the meanest man
in all this big wide nation.
his crazy head won’t let me kiss him down
cus i just don’t know why…
but no longer does it matter
cus he ain’t worth love from me.

no, he’s not worth a thought or a dime.
he’s not worth a tick of my time.

thank the lord to be home.
thank the lord to be back
here i can breathe
here, each moment is a blessing.

plans now are to run as far far away from reglar life as possible.
get way out
far out.
dude.

january 4

they all fake it to make it
honest people
live in the woods
honest people
work for their peace.
a lot of people
don’t earn their piece
they build it.

if you want it.
you may have it.
begin pretty
you can have it.
que sera que sera
we do not know.
for certain is
that life doesn’t really change…
parents cannot predict
a world less familiar to them.

and i like january
i like it for it’s sound
winds whipping whirling through the trees
they creak and threaten to blow down.

let january be kind.
for i feel the reel of new will come.

and so what if i fit the description of a hippie…
so what if i like nature, bugs, and hairy legs…
figs and vegetables, scents of patchouli…
i’m a soul…just a soul… not even of an ism.
look call me emerson, walt, david henry thoreau…
and give me peace
let me be
let me study in the snow.
in the calm and dim silence of the snow.

for i can think quietly
and so softly
my brain is calm
my mind is soothed

in the city
my mind, it hurts!!
never a silent skein
to tread on, not to hear.
how i love that i tread
ever silent and stealthily.
like a ninja i can move
up the steps
and through the grooves.

peaceful vibrations
and cold sensations
they pulse from the steady snow.
it’s grounding.
it’s solid.
solidarity forever.

i can dance
n make music
i can knit
n make socks.
but some of my time
is well spent
when i just sit down and write.

distractions and releases…
of my daily life
my biggest problem may be food
my biggest problem, is my vessel.
in constant need of attention
in constant need of care.
persistently voicing opinions.
when the mind is exhausted,
by the body in need
it is hard.
ain’t it hard.

the body aches to work
to throw hoe shovel feed.
to walk stride stretch and feel
i will work to the bone.

jona, juda
jesa, josa,
and little jondolisa.
they exist inside of me
each eager for a breath of life.

carrying what little souls.
what little souls i carry.
what will i release to the world.

and what’s to be the prying force?
what man can overpower my totem.
got to be a strong dynamic force.

alas for now
all that i really need
is a man of positivity.
humility and hospitality
to usher me into the new year
to soothe me and to wipe away fears.

a sweet reminding
after a tortuous bruiting.
too long an endurement..
the longest thing i have endured.

but i am cured i am cured!
he does not ache so poignantly.
it is not there i can not feel!
what it was that panged me so.

‘i suppose
it does exist
lingering, lastingly…melted to the core.
the heart…the soul.
of the very force
it lingers, pulses weekly…
daily.
nightly mostly.

because you cannot say goodbye.
you cannot try to finely untie
two souls that won’ separate.

three thousand miles do separate no more.
three thousand miles that i flew across.
could you hear my plane a coming?
could you hear it roar?
metallic wings that crush the sky.
the sky is falling horay horay.

doomsday it must be near. i don’t care no i don’t care.
i won’t wear what you want me to.
i won’t say what you’ll say.
BOO!

back to me, back to us
you were expecting, and you were ready.
panically, manically, you decided it was not to be.
unready, the time was not ripe.

oh but it was and you know it.
get outa here.
fuck you.

like i said, you don’t know me.
you’ve yet to respond.

5 days later, just hours before i tread
back across the country
three thousand miles back in time…

5 days later, you crashed the car.
the night you crashed the car
carelessly threw your car onto the bank
into the grove of maple trees.
bruised my knees
deep purple, black, yellow…
6 months of internal pain
released in physicality.
thank you.
i am free.
thank you!!!!

school days

-college-

man it’s college
and we thought we had it all together
our lives were perfect
happy by our senior years

no more were worries
no more were tears.
just a weird unknowing, but knowing
that it’s all gonna be alright.

life will take care of you
if you do what’s right
what is true and real to you
is always what is right.

this is what we have learned
in our childhood before.
now we are asked to be
taken by society.

i say i won’t. and that i hold.
i will not be ushered in
with a cap and gown that’s twice to big.
i’ve worn this all before

i’ve seen this all before.
i’ve wandered hallways
i’ve learned all your crap
while i sit here and flatten out my ass.

-kero-

Life is holy, each moment is precious
six hours of moments poured into the red tea kettle
whistles out
loud and out
to tell you
she is ready.

read to you eternal
words that are internal.
extracting external
yearning for our eternity internally.

lay out pretty spread out my bed
curtains of curls
golden and pure
hide me from you
hide us from her.

play us a record
hum us a tune
light up a pair of cigarettes
soothingly smooth.

flawless with flaws
that’s all i see
green groovy eyes
and big clean white teeth.

to touch, to taste, to tear.
tear up my body
tear through my soul.
ever so gracefully
gingerly, crude.

you are tenacious.
i am a loon.

you are a child still.
so stay a child son, it’s alright by me.

-true-

how i wish you were here
like two lost fish swimming around the fish bowl
year after year.
day after day.
wish you were here.

because once you’ve found true love.
you realize there’s nothing more you can do to your life.
there’s nothing more you need to see
nothing more you need to hear.
no face should be peered at no nearer than the face of your own true love.

no nose should be studied
no lips should be watched.
no hand shall be stroken
and no tear shall be dropped
for any other soul
than the soul of your own true love.

there’s no place to be
no business to do
but serve and share
with your own true love.

cook for him, clean for him
sit with him, stare with him.
eat with him, drink with him
laugh with him play with him.

work through the day
ready for his return
each and every night
no thought of flight
will come about.

there’s no one to see!
no place to flee!
you are here with me
and me here with you.

here we are an us all for ever.
here we are. let us play today and night
and nights ever after.
this is the life we deserve
tis the life we are after.
this is the way it should be
with you close to me
wrapped up, glued tight
desmosomes and fibers unite.
keep this love alife.

-man-

from this day on forward
nothing will go unnoticed.
nothing’s insignificance
can depress the feel of your tone.

of gratitude of solitude of one maturing man.
let me look at you
to see the man you have become.

you are the man that is for me.
you become a man just for me.
not a man for me to see
but a man for me to dream
to stay alive i dream with your soul.

caught me in the park
‘tween concrete blocks and hooligans
i had to catch my breath
and stop
stare
pinch me
this is a dream.

in waking walking breathing life
you do not address me.
words not known to your finger tips
sail to me ‘cross the bread basket
into my arms
next to an ocean.
that i called to you from.

i called to say that i pray that you still
that you still think of me and all that i am.
that you still think of the we that we owned
just for a month or so.
of love and laughter happiness and joy.
that is what we’ll own
come two months now.

please two months, fly by towards me
bring me flying high back to you.
to find completion, right before my eyes
completion let it be complete
let my pain complete completely with your pain
and let us wrap together like two birds of a feather

swallowing hard, my pain.

-even-

you learn from your dreams
they’re on your mind too often.
not music not voices not sirens not choices
can sway your soul from dreaming.
streaming streamers golden fibrous hair
sweep it smell it reach it grab it.
and never let it go.
i will never let you go.

maybe for a day, a night, a weekend.
yet before long
it’s back in streams
it weaves up my body
seeps deep into my soul.

what is the brain?
the brain is useless unless it is used.
the brain is not too be too hardly challenged.
but must be nurtured and balanced and given free thought.
freedom. free to flow thoughts and free to be me. ß

 

poems from past [SUMMER 2009]

Solstice

once i could wash you away
with an eight minute shower
your dirt and your slander
would roll way down my thigh

now you’re dirt
just kickin around
i don’t want to think of you
i try not to think of you.

but tonight i felt like writing poetry.

without you there isn’t a passion
pathetic, how did i grow to enjoy
your torture.
YOU ARE TORTURE.

jagged pieces of you
punch out little star shaped pieces of me.
i want to sing this out to you
in a different rhythm
something unexpected and new.

but the rain’s got no beat
it just falls and cries out
like it’s angry it pours.

it’s cool and continuous
thought i heard some thunder
the storm’s a hundred miles away

and it’s moving, oh it’s moving
on it’s long and wearisome way
one day i’m gonna wake up
and it’s gonna be on the other side of the bay.

june 22nd comes tomorrow.
this marks two months more of waiting with sorrow
i’ve been told by you to ignore you
and brood here in silence

there’s things i want to say
ask
like, are things the way you really want em?
not love not joy not happiness
but pain regret and wandering

wandering herds of cattle…

i just wanna know, what is it you do want?

it makes me sick to think about you.
and all the things i used to look forward for
fade fast away
the tau proteins tangle
your face blurs in my view box.
can’t remember the point of your nose nor the puff of your pout.

you are not the solstice. why am i wasting time thinking about you?
because you’re stressin’ me out
i’ve got the twists in my stomach
is it from the food?
or is it from you?

are you the alter ed. (alter’ed)
meta bolize
let us all rise.

brilliance is insanity.
insanity has come to me
three times this past week.
definition: doing the same thing expecting different results.

this is what i get.
we’re both the kinda kids that are good at everything they do
what’s that tell you?
what kinda kids are they?
what seeds long ago sowed them

planning their convergence
but first fine let us diverge for a spell
of bitter tinctures and wild brews
of nipping breezes and pacific cools.

i’ll wear my pacific like a fresh stitched quilt
i’ll wear out the threads and then what will i have left but shreds
and dreds of memories, scraping away the details of your face.

all but lost my breath at the site of a photo of you
didn’t remember your chiseled beefy bod
your chiseled beefy head.
what a meat head.

–he feeds–

ask me about my jem collection
ill tell you that i love them.
they feeds me all kinds of lies
torture pain
he feeds me all kinds of things.
grieving sighs.
heaving good byes…

his words cut deep through my thick skin
i am strong yet strong as he.
begins with a blast
frozen words freeze me deep
woken to by a precious sleep.

did he wait? and did he suffer?
i guess i’m hoping that he did.

he feeds me feed from his feeds of feeding feet.
he’ll feed me all of his feeds until the feeble feed is all too fed.

tonight i want to think of you.
tonight i long to think of you.
white toppened hard pressed to my back.
great vast vaultless ceiling encase my legs.
you with your back to me. you won’t turn your back to me.
you cannot leave me. you must apologize
tell me can you sympathize
are you really soul?

a solo soul is a lonely soul but a strong one worth searching through.
file deep through a soul that is flying solo through the boundless sky.

you are worthless, you’re not worthless no i didn’t mean a thing.
coke n niggers
things that me shiver
to hear from your mouth.
cancered at age 40
only got 35 years left here.
better best enjoy your time on earth
here, with me.

it’s a big big planet, and you are so alone.
it’s a big big planet, you’ll never find a home.
outside from me. there are other families
that will accept you. but comfort is in the home
in me within me within you it is all there for us to share and nurture.

someday. someday over that merry little rainbow
it’ll be all giggles and sunshine
you will be mine and we will work it out.
we can work it out.

every other boy’s just been an intermission
never had a transition
to carry me adrift from you.
truly knocked me off my feet
to land splat mud manure n shit.
silage, hay, a spider tween the tiles.
doth vacuumed by an empty feeling
seems it’ll never be replaced.

a haunted room you dare not enter.
a haunted chair you dare not sit.
a haunted table you dare not drink at.
don’t touch the doorknob, don’t try the lock.
here she lingers. here she breathes sweet short breaths.

brush on past the square reflective glass
for what are you to see but a lonely lonely me
looking back in your face in her mirror.
what used to be here
to extinguish your loneliness. your longingness.
hair, teeth, nails, and long legs.
ripely wrapped around you
knot your arms round my waist,
knit me up.
make it pretty.

chin on my head
rests on your breadth.
breathing so wondfully heavily.
heavenly. it makes me see
the heaven of love to be.
that is what we can be
once again.
that’s what we will be.
someday down the line.

—-

a woman who loves you
how’s that grab you?
not ripe time to say it
waiting for you to open that door
you’ve given me more
with each nasty message
each nasty word, each nasty letter
of character.
your character. you’re character.
personality.
that is what i see
when i can see you.

come n sit next to me on the big yellow couch
flip on that television let’s laugh at the news
and slip off our shoes
sip lightly on your tea
and come up close nest right to me.

–chai–

driving home in the rain
i dose to close my tired eyes
they collage a spread of you in my mind.

i’ve been drinking dark tea
that same tea, that fragrant import tea

the first thing i sipped, you watched me
sitting in my house,
the first of three times.

friday the 13th of march
i should’ve been more suspicious
you stumbled up from the cold marched night
scrubbed hands stuffed deep into pockets
navy blue t shirt tucked in with care and caution
you were sweating buckets, heat radiating from your skin
nervous as a deer in the wood
we made you unlace your own boot.

and i wish that could be you and me right this moment
sitting so close in my living room that we so rarely live in
that’s when first i sniffed your hay your dirt your silage your joe smell.

and there is no name
that is other than yours
that i wish to see on my screen.

and i wish i could tell all this to you.
all of the thoughts that unravel
night after night
during my days
all day long.
and all night long.
you’re even in my dreams
and now you’re in songs…

every song that i hear
the subjects are replaced by you and me.
we travel the well mapped out journey
that plays in my head.

it’s our story that persists that would not be if you really did exist -

you see it’s truly like you are a ghost
right here but not quite here.
half way here half way there
have some light spread your might half way through
each moon’s night.

it’s not real.
you aren’t a part of this.
but now you are you’ve just become
because i believe that you are living your own life
each day just the same as i do
you’re thinking, feeling, knowing…knowing. knowing. knowing. knowing.

that you see when i am with you i feel the best that i can be
like i’ve found my own equal to love freely.  but no it’s not free it’s not free.
but it’s real, nothing’s had me like this before
how could i write these words without knowing of your touch.

but they tell me,
you’re more than him, you better just stop this
tonight i sunk so low i had to reach out to the child.
the stephanie the stephanie the stephanie.
child.

[ having someone read your poetry is so revealing.
it takes loads of explaining... the person needs to know what’s been going on in your life. i am wallace stevens back from the dead. ]

a mess in middletown
drawing us together
and believing in our horoscopes

what a phase what a phase
we’ll never have those same ways.

and so with this, we must advance
move ourselves forward.
please do it
try to re-impress me.

school is so terrible now.
i wish i looked forward to it still
the end of the year’s not gonna change a thing
or it will?
_-_-__-_—-__-__-__-_____-_–_–__-__-_–__–

today you proved that you have to do it
you have to see me just once, just to get your fill
you have to make the kill contact of eyes
a draw of breath and you see me, a heavy sigh exhaled and i’m gone.
i could see me in your mind for that one moment in time
that was all you needed, just one flash
an image of me captured june 8th
a tally mark logged in your mind.

this means you’ve kept me alive.
have you been fighting these fits too?
what herds of cattle wander in your vacant mind
a half hour bus ride, a two hour saw job.
dirty jokes and funny anecdotes
they only go so far
when i’m the last interesting thing you’ve seen
i know i float around for a while.

and now i’m counting down the days
waiting for the moment
when we’ll meet alone in an abandoned hallway
everyone’s caged up in a classroom
you ask to see my callus
i spread apart my hands

they’ve healed. take a look
as i press my palms to your stubborn paws
and wrap my child fingers around yours thick sausagey strong.

our eyes embrace, blue upon brown.
“i”…stumble
“want you” complete.

footsteps resound
we unlock
abashed with hearts beating
smooth palms break out in sweats
what comes next?
please let me find out.

but i know there’s no use. i can agree with you here, what’s the point.
we’ll leave one another soon and there are so many more people in my future.
look i’ve become selfish, i don’t even care about your future.
it’s so bleak, how can i make anything of it?
how will you learn to interact?
will you wander deaf dumb round stockbridge
marching to class, to the trees, to the fields,
back home to a dim dark stark dorm room.

god damnit i want to know you and know who you’ll be!
why did i have to see such greatness in your dead eyes
i often ask did i myself make it believe?
no. i see truth and truth is what you are.
truth is what we need.

i pray that you’ve grown in the past 3 weeks you’ve grown.
i pray that you’re ready to love and be known, for the next 9 weeks.
sure is a long time we could have
of bliss and love and laughter and heat.
what do you have to lose?
(i’ve already taken that from you.)

which hurts more? being with or without me?
i’ve not been clinging i’ve not been clutching.
i’m still living, each day everyday
i cannot help it that you’re with me all day.

you are a part of me.
and i am a part of you.

why are you still here?
why haven’t i rid of you by now?
so long it’s been since you’ve grazed my body
but each and everyday, you’re trodden’ng my mind.
and each and everyday you allow yourself one more look with a dead brown gaze.
you’re trapped. we’re tapped.
trapped in the rectangle of portland high school.
trapped in the mind of miss michelle greene…what keeps you here?
you’d think i’d have more control.
guess i just don’t wanna give you up. not yet. two months lay unwritten.
give it to me. write them with me.

make my fantasies, i don’t dream up any empty dreams.
not when they feature such lovely harsh features
peppered red skin and brick stiffened hair.
a skewed left cowlick
and a drawn yawning stare.

off into space
wander towards our space
where i’m curled in a book
not really reading but rather recalling
i’m back in your arms
you threaten to let go
but you won’t, cus you know you’d have to jump in after me.
running after me, running fast past me, running straight into me.

and the second to last time
that we had our good time
the night i’m between louise’s bed and your hard knees

with one collapse
my back meets the familiar old cotton sheets
your chest sinks deep into my belonged young breast.
what we feel is electric we shiver we tingle
paralyzed we let it wash over us for just that moment.
heat radiates and wraps us up in it’s shroud and we’re back on our cloud again.

this is beyond adolescent hormones. hormones.
this is real this is raw
this is my life this is my love. this is the first love i’ll never forget please tell me why did it have to be you
it’d not be anyone else but a cold heartless farm boy named joe eric mullen. it’s not your name’s so important as your memory, your embodiment. my mind has become a balloon filled you and it grows each day and everyday as i keep wringing these thoughts out for my own peace and balance. i’ve gotta be balanced.

–cheek–

i don’t wanna write.
i don’t wanna go to school
i don’t want eat.
i don’t even use a spoon.

where is this going.
where are we going
what have you done
what have you been doing

where have you been going
who have you been seeing
what are your thoughts
and where do you take them

take your thoughts
and bring them back to me
return your mind
return your soul
back to it’s origin
when it was first stirred

by tears of happiness
joy laughter fears
bring them back
resurface your fears
recall  my tears
dripping on your shoulder
rolling off my cheek.

crater dash and lined across
a cheek is always a cheek to me.
of mine my cheek is my own cheek
and i would like you to think
of those cheeks.

lean on my cheek
bend forward and stretch
close your mind to your knee
fill the gap with your thoughts
contain memory safe
recall descriptions…
let us and all roll back!

–berry–

honey bee
you smell me
i wonder if i am thee

busying buzzing zing through the bushes
it’s friday night take it easy take a load of
bees they don’t have weekends
knees and needs is all they see

flower berry shrubbery, vine
there’s work to be done
there are no sick days
waste of time is crime.

stretching and bending
a balance from one limb to
some limb.
of poison of ivy all speckled through vines.
claws of thorns and crowns of greens.
rip through my skin, slash tear cross my leg.
just few more moments of you i beg.

please i cry, please just a few more.
my bag’s not near empty
but i am not full.

feel the weight of my bag
how you make me sag
walking on sun shine. woah oh.

turn back pay attention
to the dull brown fruits
bright unhealthy and red
warning sign. the shine of warning.
red is not to be eaten not now not ever.
your love’s hair. is covered in brick.

you told the world. you told a few souls.

past dull brown through to bright blue black.
shimmering with delight with promises
lustful to reveal passion
so to shine so to show
the reflection that is my own.

lustful and promising
promises of decay.
with few more days.
this infatuation will decay.

the love brewed in the middle of the school
will soon return back to the earth.
back to where it all began.
release reuse recycle repeat.
here it will go on again and again.

ah but day by afterday
it is not the way that we thought it would be.

want to tell you bout a fantasy if you’ve got the time….

-in pacific-

sang for you towards the ocean
pacifically to see
that you would sit
and stare at your shoe
gripping aluminum
chewing tarred honey
quietly quietly as to hear

me. chanting softly into the waves
digging my toes into cold sand
my socks are covered with sand.
i reached out for your hard hand

keep thinkin i see you.
in the dining hall
or walking down the hill.
in the restaurant
arrogance, getting your fill.

live with me on the mountain.
live with me in the dell
let me cook your suppers
and wash your socks real well.

let me make your babies.
five or six, or seven?
this is my dream
this is my heaven.

i’m travel’n the wrong direction
pushed harder farther from my haven.
que sera. si ses choses work out.
que sera, si je suis kicked out.
turning revolving turning returning to you and your cyanide.
kill me with some cyanide. i need to die by your crying side.
your truthful tears they roll onto me.
i’m dying and i’m floating, up to pergatory.
i’m flying i’m dying, your tears aren’t lying.
dribbly dropping into my mouth.
revived by your love i return to the floor.
reunited with my soul
and all the more closer to yours
that which raised me back to life.
first kill me, then raise me back to life.

for now i will fight.
i will passively fight
while nurturing my being.
i harbor all that remains.
i dig and i squander
for missing pieces, hidden clues.
one facial expression, one call of judgement.
one interesting fact, one reconsideration.

let me be lived. ß

-july 25-

i make peace with my life
i accept the things that make me
all those things undone to me
by you, be her, by everyone.

(joe taught me, i learned, who/what the person on the other end is, the receiving line of the poem.)

i am completely happy.
give me all the bare necessities
all pleasuries that indulge me.

-_—__–_–_–_–_-_-___-_–_–

all day today i sat on my butt.
first in the grass, then in the swamp, onto a bird shit covered stump
never even wiped the sleepies out from my eyes
i’ll just wait til before i see him. i’ve certain that i will.

boys make no promises
before you can’t see it coming
now it all makes sense.
i’ve got to keep them wanting.

yarn is not inspiring
quick fingers oiled by grease
off of old geese off of goat’s hair.

here’s another one. one for the J file. come on and cling onto me worse. come onto me cling tight to me worse.

i must escape from Portland. then there perhaps you’ll tell me the truth.
june 23rd passes july 32nd.
it’s like each summer July 25th resonates in my mind.
that is today. today i sat on my butt.
__-__-__—_-______–_-_____–_—-_
Idk wtf is up with nancy.
might she leave dad once i’m gone?
‘haps why she hasn’t married him yet.
it is sorta strange…

i know he proposed and the intention was there.
he wanted to marry her, love her share.
__-_–_____–_-__-____-__-_________-_

singing in the woods today oh it was so nice
singing singing singing singing why did it i cut it short?
i wasn’t done, done with my singing
i was distracted. distracted with singing.

why is it the passionate people that we live outlong
outlonging all the silly souls that do not use their head.
their heart. the concretion of balance.
balance is happiness
please keep your mind heart and body all in good charm.
____-_–_—__—___–_—_________–_–____-___-__—_
i am sorry but i must say something. something about a boy.
i like him a lot, i do knot know why.
knot after knot after knot after knot. why did i knit and knot so much all this beautiful day?
cus we should be at the cape.
that is where i planned to be.

okay, i don’t like him that much i just like his company.
he can me smile and he can make me laugh true
but listening to him? and talking with him? he’s just like jeff robinson, just of a different town.
i think i just like to figure some people out.
how do these certain people just buy up my mind’s real estate?
i’d like to be inside my own head watching this head thinking feeling about him.
perhaps some of the others, the few without souls. as if they burned off easy, crispy soul ready to serve!
this one real one haunts me. his soul evil but so real.
strong and fierce passion comes first…miserable each day at schools.
but outside, where he could shine, escape and be himself.
there was evil, there was hate, but there was truth and love and life.
all encased in one hard thick freckled shell
sprinkled speckled dirt
and dappled red.

still the new one, doesn’t even matter. still the old one is still
calling. singing. singing aloud.
you’ve made me feel so real.
please do all you care to
i’ll wait forever
til your duty is through.

you are making me.
you are shaping me.
my soul my soul
relies on you.

only only you with your abrupt and spontaneous spur
of words so kind and so cautiously tapped out
sent me to me tapped through the telepathic desert.

-rises up-

i should listen to this rainstorm and enjoy my time.
i’ve been missing several rainstorms just wasting my time.
the time to spend with me and to have joyously.

work is like endurement you endure what they throw at you.
glances, coffee cups, muffins, notepads.
gulp. gulp. gulp. there go the paper cups
ah ah ah there go diet cola puffs.

aluminium sierra and paper cup tower toppling onto the floor
lydia sweet come to stand the soldiers fallen boulders up right.

there’s rainwater on my computer screen. it would be wise to shut down. are you sure you wish to shut down? i’m sure.

twenty seven or more…

drank the milk of the milkweed the alkaloid milkweed milk so creamy so white.
but im not a butterfly bitter bitter butterfly no i am not a butterfly. you can eat me.

 

poems from past [MAY 2009]

What composes a memory? It is not the actual moment as it happened, but the sounds, smells, sights, and feelings, the mind stuff, that is stored away in your floating mind…which is floating in your skull… which is floating in the sky… which is floating in space… which is floating in the universe towards a black hole.

april 25

Shit Joe, how did that happen?
I fell for you so fast and so hard.
“We’re girls, we just get smitten.”
We flutter our lashes to fall on our faces.
Covered in mud, grime, manure.
Conforming to their lives.

We are a virus.
Women are a virus to men.

Without DNA or instructions of our own
we manipulate your mechanics
to infect ourselves in.

we feed you
we clothe you
we hold you
we bathe you.

The driving force is love
we’ll whisper in your ear
I’m going to make you happy
promises so sweet

It all starts out simple
but you and me
we’re complex.

may 9

my love’s hair is the color of brick
the leaves outside are eerie
all day the world’s looked fake.
brick chimneys smiles sandwiches.
all the world’s looked fake.

if you had a son you would name it brick.

and now it’s cold outside. and i hope you wear a coat
you scoff at gloves
to rip your hands apart

tearing and splitting and grinding and gripping
flexing and stretching and strength’ning knots
for all of ten years that is of millennium

brick and his friends
boys’ll respect their mothers.
wise and beautiful and liberating.
cooking cleaning publishing.
leaves in her hair
bruised up her knees
her twinkle persists
in your mind she lingers

not when you’re around.
not without your arm around
her woman waist.

her jigsaw puzzle piece waist.
insert your hip and impress your face
into her chest, warm and soft.
whole and familiar,
yours. all yours.

May 11

if i sang for your mother
would you keep me in your arms
if i sang for your father
would he reckon all my charms

if i sang for your sister
would she braid my hair
and if sang for your brothers
would they love my stare

if i sang for your family
would you hold me tight
and if i sang for your family
would you keep me up all night

tell me
honestly
i need to know

because

i need to know
if you need me bad
i need to know
that you’ll never
let me run away.

run away run away hold me in your steel strong arms, forever and ever.

may 10

what was your day like today
did the wind chap your hands
did the sun deepen your skin
as your freckles spread like cancer

did the wind chill your bones
did the heat make you sweat
you could smell flowers
grass grease and steel.

que sera?
scribbled on the wooden door
piano groaning on the floor
moaning mirrors morphing me
right before my eyes

would i cook would i clean
would i fold laundry everyday
day in and out day
is that what que sera is all about

take a look at my fingernails
identify the stress the angst the nerve that’s impeded in my past days

que sera in so many ways
que sera in 5 days?
que sera in 20 years.

i wanna know
will i know somebody
i wanna know somebody
i’ll not know no body.

may 3, 5

leapt from my window
and stole the sparrow’s wings
he falls onto his bed
i soar high above his windows

birds eye view
ain’t what they say
there’s traffic in the sky.

escaped from the mist
been stuck here three days straight
well i’m up here now
flying high
trouble is
the sky’s just as hazy

so i’ll return old sparrow’s wings
and throw him some bread
climb back through my window
to brood here in my bed.

looking at my pillow

wrinkled by wear
thick curly hair
tossing and turning
caused by last night’s yearning.

painted by moonlight
sloshed by your poison
blue comme picasso
the rubber snapped
and ended all our fun

i stop speaking.
why can’t i speak?
sex ruins everything.

i’ve angered the birds
upset by my peace maker
ashley said
music is all that makes sense in this world.

i didn’t care about him last night
i don’t care about him this night

didn’t care about him this morning
woke up today and i was a moaning.

battled the spider that wove our weak web
should not have killed her
she sought only escape from one farm
the ring of her web broke and will bring us down.

a rendez-vous
introduces complications
cause he won’t let me go
cause he won’t let me go.

he’ll be a ghost
haunting my conscience
he’ll be a ghost
inspiring these words.
these sounds these thoughts
these melodies

spinning and spooling right from my brain.

5:10 5/10
he’s spooking in the shadows
knitting in the corners of my mind
hanging his scarves on my walls
dumping his poisons in his river.
in his river he dumps his poisons.

which was more significant?
the night i write of sparrows
or the night i write of scents

which was more significant?
the night i’m wedged between you
between you and your aunt’s bed
or the night i’m pinned beneath you,
beneath you and your aunt’s floor
barn spiders tickling ‘long my legs.

which carries more weight?
your asshole demeanor coupled with slamming oceans
which carries more weight?
your twinkling eyes, careful motions
embraced by thick loving arms.

your loving arms.
i love your arms.
your javelin arms
i love your arms.

each of these poems reveals your identity. it’s no secret who’s playing my heart.

may ?

i’m disgusted with my self.
so disgusted with myself.
i look down and it’s gone
each time i am stunned

pseudo happiness fills my pores
why is it not real
because it is not with him.

for snow to fall to snow
and for the real to bring the real
is for my feathered dinosaur
to stop you stone on your heels.

let this feather fancied
folly frolicked
frolling flopping
creature fear

bring you unabashed love.

___-_-___-_-_—_–_–_—__–_____-

que sera
it’s over
que sera it all ends tomorrow
quietly, suddenly, softly
gone.

a day in a day goes by
one in just like other
and the one before that.

never changing
dormant. flat.

this is how you’ve made me feel
for jesus’s sake you’ve known this way too

gether we’ve been
affecting each other’s lives
we know when where we will meet
like clockwork it tolls.

i skip and i prance fast and fast faster
must be feelin pretty fuckin cool
stomping up the stairs with the low lives from shop class
you’ll walk on past her

fumble your papers stuff em in your locker
want to get me laughing?
well it worked, i cracked a smile
but i kept on straight walking

if it was worth your trouble to wring out my worth
then it was worth it for me.
make me smile laugh make me smile
let me show something of me
please just see the lovely i’ll be.
you’ve seen it before
you’ve known it before
now without your stare
i am less worthy.
no validation
all degradation.

or are you scared of what it is you will see
you know it lies my rings of blue
eyes i love to see your eyes
looking at me, sinking in me, drinking me all in.
oh drink me in.

you’re ‘bout to stomp on down the hallway
with your stiff straight strong steel toes.
my hair releases the pencil
stashed stowed tucked into my head

of curls
crouched on the hallway floor
was this the highlight of your pathetic day?
or was it when the fat slutty girl
or the old nasty troll
laughed at the annoying things you say.

doesn’t it get old? don’t you just wish you could hold

onto me. for just one moment

and many one moments for us to share.

-=-==-===–===-===-===—==-=–===–==-=–=–====

wow i’m crazy.
i am crazy obsessed.
i wish i could let go.
i live onto it, remember i am the virus, the parasite.
and then i start to believe that you too live onto it.
that at the end of the day
it’s me on your mind.

this is too weird.
i hope you’ll let me know
that you just don’t want me. not ever not even at all.

i said hey you could be with my right now
never again in a million years you reply.
i ask why
you say i did something to you. something i’ll never know. but i’ll live.

yea. i’m living. but not completely.
i just wish you would hold onto me
give me back my candle
that you tossed
wish you tossed
it on my grass.

you’re far far far out of grasping. goodbye.

—-_–_-  _________-__-_—-____________–

and i think i’m going to be famous
recording my thoughts my face
computer you are eternal.
in you i’ll remain for all days.

may 9

acidic stomach
it sloshes and it churns
a blow to my confidence
a blow to my soul

wounded by a hope
swollen by your smile
all that i can smell
is your reeking guile.

sweet scent of rust
sweet mist of hay
disintegrate into the weeds
your grasses have grown
they have not been mown
you’re too busy fucking with me

set down your beer can
and far toss your metal tin
destroy the pseudo-loves of your life
the manmade objects of aluminum and starch.

i am built of cells
i walk i talk i breathe
your inanimate love will swallow you in alteration of your state of danjrous mind.
it’s gonna swallow you
and drown you in a hole of hate, a well of cruelty.
______________

i will never swallow you.
you say “no attachments”
and then you stroke my hair
you say “no attachments”
and then you kiss my chest.
you say “no attachments”
with your hard face pressed to my breast
with cold eyes i reply, “right.”
you’re right, okay, that’s fine, i’m fine.

i respond to your vibrations
hope rushes through my veins
flip open to your message
your words puncture my lungs

with a hiss
the air of hope escapes in streams
swallowed by our atmosphere.

you are a human being.
satisfaction comes by being with me.
be with me speak to me lie to me cry for me
you say no attachments but the strings have been tied.
with a fine pair of scissors
you could snip us through the middle, tearing us apart.

but scissors so sharp do not exist
strings as taught as ours will not be snipped.
you will pull them and twist them
knotting into braids
of beauty, complexity and strength.

with beauty comes adoration with adoration comes possession.
possession is yours.
at love’s alarm you squirm and slip
slip through my fingers.

i would wear a dress tonite
in honor of the moon filled night
the full moon is ours.
forever will it be
man’s moon.

but tonight we will not share its light.
your smell is lost in the fibers of my sheets
and barely clings to the proteins of my hair

i slept in your sweat
awoke in our sweat
4 pm today
the smell is sloughed off with soap
beads of you roll down my hips
arc over my knees
pool between my toes
and drainway way away

inhale deeply
my throat swells.
my palms shape your shoulders
as the tips of my fingers freckle your skin.

inhale deeply
water fills my mouth
fog fills my mind
eyes sink to blue
i’m filled by you.

but tonite you will not see me
green candle stays locked tight in its box
we will not share our light tonite.
tonite.

so now i’ll inhale my pseudo-love
block your receptors from my mind
and write some more.

with my pseudo-love
i can stand myself
i like to be alone
yes i like to be alone
just as you do.

time wasted traveling up and down route nine
a little girl and a little boy
lugging suitcases between their homes
one is the house, the other is a home
i know you wish you lived alone or in his home
just as i do.

how will i ever forget your scent?
how will i ever vanquish your strength?
just as time absorbs you from my skin, my shirts, my cheeks, my sheets
my memory too will be absorbed by time.

may ?

and now oh oh oh oh oh now now now
what is now
have you have control
how you have the will to have the way to have control
hold in whole and dig bury your holes
dig bury you whole into my holes
you will hold your whole in the hole and the dirt of you will fill you full.
your dirt is not my dirt please don’t let it be kickin around here no more.
i can’t keep sweeping and lay on the dirt strewn floor weeping.
but the breeze won’t stop blowing you into my house.
the sweet summer breeze carries dirt smell and hay smell and joe smell.
and photos of you find me they find me in my home. how are they allowed in my home?
i should just go home. find home. leave home. leave dirt. dirt over your dirt and you’ll be dirty for me.
beer stain pressed cold onto your right chest.

wind

it’s loud.
here the wind pounds endlessly.
here is the place where the wind will fill your mind.
shoving all that’s troubling out out gone.
let it blow out to the bay, to only come hurtling back
but send it out to the ocean and it won’t be back.

it’s impossible to bury a ghost.

may 30

arts kids frolic in cold cold rain
white blinds glare me down.

you’re not here anymore.

i do not feel different…but i do.
the knots in my stomach, they’ve disappeared.
but the thoughts in my head, they’re still here.
i contemplate kissing your cousin.
he lives just one mile down the hill.
it could be the summer romance i crave.
you’d like that, wouldn’t you.

why oh why do i still talk to you?
your memory has provided more company than you did.
because, i do not know you anymore. i know only your memory.
isn’t that comforting? that someone remembers who you were, not who you are.
in your own sights, you’ve improved
in my sights, you’re a douche-bag and i wish i could punch you in your ginger face.

ginger face.

a title assigned, that means it’s stable.

things you cannot control
are a nuisance.
you’ll not waste your time and thoughts on such unfortunate events.
i don’t even care. i understand you’ll never let me love you
you’ll not accept happiness i bring you.
i’ll not infect you.
i’ll not even acknowledge you.

oh please try to call me. just please, just so i can see if i’ll not respond.

i’m tired. you’ve kept me up each night of this month.

the spider left last night.
she splayed her half legs, 1, 2, 3, 4
i made a choice, i stuffed her away
‘tween tile and wall, walled into tile.
but i did not kill her
oh i should have killed her
that would have been the end
but she still exists! and you persist
you’re not good nor gone…
as tree doctor and tree medic we will reunite.
we will be old, we’ll have been down many a road. and we will reunite.

=-=—==–==—==–=-===–=—=–====-====-

my hand squared slap shoved you in the back
i aimed precision where your broad wings vertex
you’re quick to turn to be amused? confused? perplexed.
just give me a smile, give me a word, give me something to bend and manipulate.
“words can be twisted” you are bright, you were right.
but look at me, you’ve given me nothing yet i’ve created so much.
i never stop shaping, it’s like i’m on disconnect and you’re just a hobby
you just pass by my time,
cars pass on the highway stretches out my two destinations.

you stretch out my imaginations.
i like you. i like you more than i did before. i want you to know this.
i’m about to pick up my phone and punch in the code – eye ehl eye kay eee space why oh you space space send sent.

how else would we have played out?
would i’ve thrown you into the rain to avoid months of beautiful pain?
i’ll let you rot in my mind cheesing corners of mold
nothing left to hold
onto a new day, i’d never be the same way
that i am on this day with my boots and flannel
eating flaxseed, carving wax candles

there’s nothing i can do
if you never come back
you’ve given me all of this
oh how i love the splendid glorious pain you’ve unleashed within me.

i love to be blue
i love all the moods
curl up on my floor
and rock to the peristalsis of my bolus epiglottis…
yea, it’s those kinds of moods that i like best.
i love to feel and freeze and fold and let it all pour out. thank you oh thank you
for yanking it out.

cape cod

IT’S MY RIGHT TO LOSE MY LIFE. I WOULDN’T TRADE IT IF I COULD.

exhale sweet breath out of your sun roof moon roof light roof
and wink you a smile that twinkles from one pair of blue eyes to another
we are careless we are joyous we are caressfully free

amaze at the pine forests
soft brown needles cushion our leathered brown feet
cool clear water spells out our names in sun rippled tide
you say it’s oh so cold i say the cold it feels so good.

warm your pads on a sunkissed cliff
i’ll hike up my skirt to wade in deeper deeper
i know that you’re watching
the icy waters envelope my warm tender skin.

feet there’s no time to dry
we take off at full speed up and up skip over a rock and tree
a staircase made of roots we’re climbing higher
the river is smaller
the pine forest deeper.

enveloped by the trees by our world
we are free from their world
and now we can criticize and ponder freely.

it’s humans, we are the strangest species
on this planet
man stands alone
he stands all alone

until he doth find the woman companion.
to play with to dream
to feel with to love.

we’ll have chickens roosters goats and baby lambs.

[marry a virgin. marry not a virgin.
marry someone who sold their sex to god or men
marry completely and give yourself whole heartedly
to everything that wants you and everything you are.]

may mid

what do i want from you?
i just want you to look at me
and smile
unfold your steel arms
and wrap me around you.
pressed hard to my chest
to gnaw at my neck.
beer scented breath
breathes in my goat milk
remember that smell?
does it waft into your mind
at random times?
the feel of my curls crushed ‘tween your fingers
you recall the softness
when you reach for your belt buckle
your boot laces
the strings graced by my hands, each time, every time.

and then how you’d hold me in cicadian rhythm
huffing puffing
pounding groaning.
love me love me love me love me.
such intimacy we shared.
why did i give it to you.
why did i have to fall
for
you.

and now all my poems
they all sound the same
strong arms and stony features
warm smile and sweaty chest
i’m underneath you, where i like it best.

i told her “i’m moving forward”
because i’m better than you.
but you’re still here in my brain
the same memories on repeat
i have no control
not only that but
new fantasies have been composed!
you come to me at night in the form of a panther
you prowl through my dreams
they may be completely irrelevant, but the panther appears and
i know you are he.

one two three scratches cross my neck
discovered as i sit in front of you
the mark of the panther upon my soft skin
i know you are he.

please just tell me this
am i on your mind
all of the time
have you periods of day when the mind is focused, free
and undisturbed

ah but once you beset your saw, rub the dirt from your brow,
end another day and crack open another beer
thoughts of me pour down your throat.
the image of a girl curled on a wooden chair
yellow light cast upon her steady scribbling.
the scratching pencil stops
she searches for the focus
found. stop. stare. wait.
silence ensues.
steady scribbles slam the graphite tween the ridges
she scribbles an unwanted pattern
she’d rather be scribbling steadying with you, steady steady. stable.
_-__-_-_—_–______—-___-__-_-_____—_-___—-_—_

sun bleaches her hair all afternoon
thoughts of you harbored by smoking and scribbling the day away.

the sun splatters her a masterpiece across the sky
another day has washed by
she sits three feet away
sighs and groans when she should
for your well planned story.

humidity of desire hangs upon your heads
you loosen up and pour poison down your throats.
she steps over the line, the boundary of caution is crossed
her goat milk and peppermint is absorbed by your pores
her rosa mosqueta, lavender and thyme…
you want her.

let her know you want her, put your arms around her
an embrace of steel lace
and she feels your bulge against her waist
embarrassed; she spins free from your bind.
you want her.

drunken babble spills off her tongue
you shut her up
toss her over your shoulder
and make her squeal.
rib cage grinds against your shoulder blade
suffocating from the closeness and tender…
she wants you.

her troubled feet lead you to
the magic locked up tight in this house.
no mold nor stubborn key can keep you out tonight.
the smell of retired english teacher beckons to you both
you are without a choice
there is no decision to be made

shoestrings delaced by her fingers
your sweat grimed boots, kicked and tossed aside.
she squats on the tile and pulls off her own
you know she’s here to stay.

she rummages through the cupboards
uncovers the light which you detest.
you contest and protest.
she wins, she wants you to see her.

now together joined by shadow candle cast upon your grandmother’s wall,
further deep now together joined by an organ and an opening
and organ and an opening.
in these moments, this is all we are.
united together, reduced to intimacy.

you pant in her ear, left to right, right to left
you salivate in her hair, right to left, left to right.
she moans beneath you, steady, steady, more and more.
she’s soft and fragile, she’s smooth and docile.

she glides like butter ‘cross a frying pan
her movements, familiarly foreign
and you are comforted.
you let your inhibitions free
and revel in your buoyancy.
you hold one another inside each other
given the allowed time, you synchronically pull apart.
she’s quick to her feet, she stumbles up the stairs.
you’re shocked still for seconds,
then lumber to the room of relief.

it’s over.

excuse me and poems

i’m ashamed of my most recent post. i was gagging throughout. see what madness starvation drives a person into? yikes. seriously, i remember that night. i left work and was consumed in the first shroud of fog since i’d been here. it was heavenly. i sprinted 2 steep blocks down to the market and bought a giant jar of claussen pickles, a loaf of moist barvarian bread, and a block of almond cheese. i had a delicious feast. i’m still on a pickle kick, but i’ve graduated to delightful sweet pickle chips from woodstock farms. OH my goodness. Bubbie’s are good too. Mmm also drinking loads of vegetable juicy with added chile powder. And on top of it all, Bragg’s apple cider vinegar. Braeburn apples (USA NOT New Zealand’s!) are incredible right now. They have that dry crisp tartness that I thought only existed in New England.

Anyway, I realize that this cpu machine won’t last forever. One of these days I’ll tap the little round button and the smooth screen will remain an uninviting black of death. Death to my machine. Without an external hard drive, what more logical of a place to store my most precious poems than on my internet blog that no body reads? Another option would be to publish the collection in a book. But that’s a lot of work and I have enough on my plate in my college sphere. (Oh you do? Then why are you about to blow a whole precious hour copying and pasting and editing old poems?) Well, right now I’ve checked out on vacation mode a bit prematurely and am ready to blow through the next TWENTY FOUR hours before I am reunited with my other half, 1000 miles East. SO SOON! so here come a whole book’s worth of beautiful words from a young woman.