Chiara M: Favorites

Aug 2013 Chiara M

Tom McCone

i think i’m in love with you. You have a nice smile, no, nice is a ****** adjective. you have a smile like slow-twisting clouds above the line of dawn, it tears me apart in the best possible way. You make me unable to focus on anything on a continual basis. You

should come over. please?. Someday, i'll stop being so sad. i hope you realise it'll probably be because of you. You + me = well, we could merge escapist tendencies and get out of here, if you'd like.

If i saw you now i’d kiss you. no, i say that, but i’d probably just look at you and say nothing and wish i could say... everything, but all i want is to see you, i want to just smile at you, mainly i want to kiss you. i

would build an ocean, just

for you. If i could sing you any song it would be untitled, like all the rest of them.

We could curl up in blankets and ignore everything else, except one another’s eyes, under the stars.

Love,
sad little tom

(P.S. just try to be happy, ok?.)

*((P.P.S. try to realise how ******* wonderfully i feel about you though, ok? my tongue is a knot, but i really do. next time i see you, i'll tell you. promise. x))

the person this is for probably won't read it.

Aug 2013 Chiara M

say what you mean

Aug 2013 Chiara M

Tom McCone

say what you mean

you give me butterflies
butterflies made of antifreeze
butterflies made of fish hooks
    i don't like you
       i don't like you
    i need to throw up
  i think i love you
but i really just don't like you
    because you twist my arm
           with heavy wrenches
    but never break the skin
    and i have
      a thing for blood
     i guess
           'cause
i'm too ******* lazy to
      throw myself off a bridge
   in front of a train
           on fire with smoke signal
            "*******"s trailing behind me
but who cares
who cares, really?
           love is all fish hooks
       in the eyes of the devil so
         i'll save
              the last waltz in hell
                           for you, honey.

Jul 2013 Chiara M

Who yawned the most head

Jul 2013 Chiara M

Ugo

Who yawned the most head

In the burning right hand of the bald city,
denizens frame calories and count instagram blessings
while beacons of hope refund inspiration in USADA *** cups.

Abyssinian maids wail over yesterday lovers
who wore Ginsberg’s skirt with less pizzazz
and watched bedbugs **** blood off knee caps
wondering, what if Jesus Christ drove a Nissan?

As bullets of paragraphs fall Vietnamese pesticides on my head,
The dusts off my breath sing homilies
With letters of broken leather whiskey,
For even in the most dishonest jest,
clandestine toothbrushes are overrated
and every first false lie is the only truth.

Jun 2013 Chiara M

lakes and lakes

Jun 2013 Chiara M

Tom McCone

lakes and lakes

rain falls             consolidated
dust          it opens up gutters
outside        the pristine bank doors              there was (there were)

a bird (birds), and                      a
girl (laughter),   and a passenger
side                      rear-view wing
mirror (spider's long gone)         we saw
everything                                    always
party to           the                    low lights
disappearing
            days (weeks, decades, et cetera),

how does this just keep happening?
the endless benefits of
                                    a three week
tooth whitening regime       you'll
be
so
              popular
                   with          all the cool kids

gutter        bees wax          shoe polish finish         forever
                                                                         in
                                                                        your midlife
                                        so bri quets; rain:
ame (雨)
pleure, Βροχή, pluvia
वर्षा, წვიმა
lullabies             in cold            words, shuffled
you, singular field,
words, words, worlds  away,

you and I still fall                                                      you and I still I.

Jun 2013 Chiara M

(falling-out-of-)love letters

Jun 2013 Chiara M

Tom McCone

(falling-out-of-)love letters

stuck in a hollow room,
handfuls of pictures of
years, now simple past,
rain still bound, fallen,
the quietness of absence,
the eclipse of
your dissolute smile;

one day,
years ago,
I must have woken up,
and forgotten to stay in love,

or just realized,
I never really was.

May 2013 Chiara M

i'd put your name here, but then you'd know it's you.

May 2013 Chiara M

Tom McCone

i'd put your name here, but then you'd know it's you.

I'm going in there,

the box is locked, but I've been feigning,
shouldering off opportunities,
tormenting
how you lie, how;
you
are too ****
      good,
      too **** sweet,
      for me.

still,
take me with you, please.

how do you manage to,
or, how do I delude myself as,
to get to the matter at hand:
i want
every
last brushstroke
of your co-ordinate skin
surface patch union
in a quilt of
frail, tendre, beauteous,
branching, distant
expansions.
but you're here,
            no mind.

ok, so:

you're a forest fire in my
eyes when
I simply glaze through
your
al-
a-
ba-ster domain,

where your heart sits,
still,
contorted,
left, chinese-puzzled, by a boy you, still,
could never hate.

{nobody ever hates anyway, truly} maybe.
{nobody ever loves anyway, truly} I guess I have proof, otherwise.

And I, well,
I could never not love everything.
Whatever it is, makes up you.

Sorry.

I'm out of sorts at the moment. I'll write something worthwhile, someday. maybe :>

Apr 2013 Chiara M

mock seed

Apr 2013 Chiara M

Tom McCone

mock seed

call up in spring, maybe maybe maybe
                                          maybe,
I've caught mine in the stream:

                 hollow things.

hollow, hollow, seeing and free
directions, contortions
cool down, riverbeds of
flowers that sun made
in dark spot phase turning to
alive alive alive alive alive
breathing cold warm cold, nothing

  any
                                            more

ripples like the stilts feet fell through to
carve square pegs in the holes in my
skin and feign ignorance to let up
sunspot light fading writhing
keeping me alive alive
alive alive alive
all through
this gold
cursed
night

Apr 2013 Chiara M

ἀπορɛία

Apr 2013 Chiara M

Tom McCone

ἀπορɛία

Humanity, the island
I swum round, circles made eventual stone,
'til I'd learnt that I'd learnt nothing,
-know nothing-;
for all the purported wisdom,
accumulated with such great care,
I was none wiser than
the first breath I had taken,
adorned with the sterility of hospital pine- or lemon-scented antiseptic.

I know the world, now,
I know the hair on disappearing creature's skin,
I know the strands of broken bamboo,
I know the endless breaking, upon the shorelines,
I know the words of lovers,
dead and alive,
the words of enemies,
and of those impassive.

I've known the grand vastness of the empty above,
the crawling complexity of the unceasing below,
the burnt haze of day,
the dead silences of night,
the spaces between lips,
the lonesome tied in white sheets,
the rending denial of mind,
the sardonic acceptance of heart,
the weight of life,
the light of whatever comes after.

Yet, still,
I know nothing.

Apr 2013 Chiara M

pregnancy rates in college, 2013

Apr 2013 Chiara M

Redshift

pregnancy rates in college, 2013

no rest
caffeine-induced
labor
the product:
a black and blue
crumpled
essay...
disappointed
parent.

Dec 2012 Chiara M

First Grade Dream remembered

Dec 2012 Chiara M

Owen Phillips

First Grade Dream remembered

Finding love in odd places
Conventional beauties and non
Voices like molasses,
Faces like home
Memories like first grade dreams
A playspace without windows,
limitless
Running on the floor I see myself,
My first out-of-body experience
Run-crawling naked past
Mrs. Hooper with short gray hair watching kindly
I want to walk into inhuman nature with you
Dust off the polished seashells of past lives
And feel your heartbeat just once