the plates that carried
our recipes.
break
the steady rhythm
of our weekly routine.
as a kid
i'd watch the minute hand
in anticipation
breaking bread
a sacred tradition
breaking bones
not so much.
break
a means to refresh
and reenergize for what's to come
and prevent
catastrophic collisions
but the potential for being unmendable
whether it was your call or mine
i'm still broken
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC
december:: it was in the background.
bound by weeks gone by. she waited she swayed. it played in the background. i can't be. back bare shoulder clavicle. bodies rolled with arms stretched. fear of sun rise. feared mourning. drunk on ice, the last night. he offered fingers his eyes eager, and somewhere in between.
but please. it was in the background.
don't forget me.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
whilst watching things fall apart
maybe we never will
leaves catch flame
the trees tend to turn on one side
magnifique on fire
and if the walls could disintegrate
we would see them
and i’d never fear the falling rise
they’d be there
for you
for i
*si
l'immensita canterebbe
per te
e per me*
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
it's soaring through flaming green hills
your heart races with the curiosity of discovery
it's dancing on a secluded mountaintop
with the drunken energy of a motorino zipping.
it's the endless time spent laughing
lips tingling with wine and philosophy
furiously awaiting l'autobus
and saying basta to the pasta.
the hazelnut aroma of hot cappuccini,
and suddenly you have the bravery
to get lost alle tre in Trestevere.
it's watching sunrays part mountains and Corinthian columns
and sparkling on salty waters
and you inch toward the edges of cliffs
just to catch a glimpse.
it's the comfort of friends and Nutella
when Ryanair lands and Rome becomes Home
and life, and death, and carbs follow you.
it's the homeless and the hungry
sleeping in the strong arms of St. Peter
and disappointment and shame
consumes you.
it's sobbing when you are alone,
foreign, and strange
and sobbing when it's time to say
arrivederci
it's when you fall, your stupid heel caught between cobblestones
that you realize you're in love.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
thank you for an education
for making me overqualified
and dissatisfied.
thank you for giving me
the art of argument
so i can be the best
copy girl
for dep prep
after which
Michelle tells me
"it's fact, girls
are naturally
bad at math."
i remember why
- and i'm grateful.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
she poured brown sugar on top. talked but refused to speak. that. was her last inhale. cigars ordained the fountain and the blue irises diluted. i expected to see drops. the ends shriveled up.
but we swigged godiva
she said:
sunday we’ll go to the beach
i laugh at first
the open air was all legs and armpits
i casually held my palms to my nose
wine to drown the stench
she chatted in infinites
there was only a small bustle. thirteen o’ clock. the canvases were pulled back. always some glass in our hands. the horses didn’t care, in fact, let us stroke their noses. i still wonder what they patrolled. we kept drinking. passed out in a public park.
i said
it’ll be concrete jungles
friendship forgotten
she woke with leaves
at her temples in her tear ducts.
i typed it
l e a v e s
seen by all
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
slow down
something i’m not good at lately
i’d rather not
yes i’m caught
yackety ******** a paralyzing something
avalanching from mouths
(our only exercise of the day)
too hateful
to be called
wor-
the gorgeous ambiguity of oxblood
i almost forgot
my love
for discussion
but when your insides break
and people well they
can’t see internal bleeding
yes, i’m sure you can all relate like that one time you didn’t get lead and he shared his blunt with the miniskirt instead of you.
but when the air
quite literally escapes you
and you don’t have a moment to
reach out and scream from the pain fight
fight like hell for someone else’s life
stop the bleeding you can’t see
before it floods the brain
and drowns his nervous system
and you leave him
terrified
you were too late.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
one day
always dries the tongue
always tense
future tense
i’m twenty three
i’ve set out to find myself
at least four times
from here
you can’t see what’s up there
though its walls are made of windows
i was up there once, and looked down
i asked why misunderstanding perception
and learned most of them looked out for the cityscape the lights sometimes.
s was a dancer
stretches and
taps to silent rhythms
knotted in her throat in thought
sometimes at night
under lover’s sheets
they could flow from her lips
sweet hyperboles
and desperate understatements
and her shoulders would release
too soon
she was dead asleep
t the perfect audience
he was multilingual
even with small phrases and s thought::
please please think bigger
than you and me
t::
i want
shelves full
(with all of your words)
and we’ll cover the living
walls
with framed cyprus and stone
it’s ok it’s ok it’s ok
today we are twenty three
i can feel your breath on my face
i am not domestic
every place but home
inspires me
a time someday for us
they’ve flourished
snatched in november like everything
gone
tell me
the glory days
are not
over
flow
is it possible
to be blown by what i thought
could never happen could never have
never be
and
remorse for decaying dreams
a bibliothèque a bibliothek
its towers pierce through foliage
the center caved in
only the letters b i b l o remain
above the threshold and some
pages grip tight to the walls
insects inhibit the rest
we stretch softer legs like fossilized rock
and feel shame in the pride once taken
in *one day i will give up everything
dance on tuesday nights worship the sanctity of table talk early mornings envisioning the thousands of events this corner no doubt witnessed trek øyangen and for the first time fall so in love with snow and tomorrow feel that same ecstasy for the aegean ultraviolet a*
of course there is not that would be too **** logical
we fill to the brim spill into the other
the first time::
walking conciliation there were at least 8 others the nervous ha ha release of the shoulders a timid forte something castle passageway and cruel majesty if i did..no memory of any other exists submerged in the cascade i could tell
what was happening it was your turn finally
adventure bestowed
when i shouted
italian for
...i know what you mean
other times
it’s boiling steam clenching the small throat of the
archways screaming
like the baby in the room
hardly air still
dare not breathe
at burned hands only
wanting to
help me
october times:
i wander off the page
its warm here
homesick rising not
for a house or manmade landscape
i sunk my teeth
into a chance to hold
a beloved memory
were you pouring
into me or i
you
—suddenly
location was
absent
only caffeinated confusion
words were never difficult now used all wrong
forte timida
you casually drank your pour over
as i searched for a changed thing
s to t:: how is it that we love so many and need so much more and still have room for each other?
t:: i’ve built you a sanctuary
west coast luxury
east coast 1920
where surrounding trees are ablaze
you will not burn
in a city whose lights have no power over stars
i’ve wrought an iron balcony
for kissing
overlooking
a cobbled courtyard
for mornings
music
go there in the meantime
when you can’t remember
i’ll visit when you want me
my thighs
carry everything
ice cracks cold sweat ears ringing rejection history home moving not moving defense precision par excellence capablebutyoucutmylegsfromunderme
flying contraption
leaving that behind
fast evanesce
a pounding like cutting
but breathing
normally
s to t:: only you let me
bleed
the hard-
covers
come
falling
a fantastic mess
the balcony
magnifique on fire
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC