I.
I wonder if you remember me.
You said, “Go out. Find me
that universe, and take these
with you.” Talismans.
Good luck charms like Mozart
and fifty-five ways to say hello.
Navajo night chant,
Peruvian wedding song,
diagrams of ribcages, gender,
bushmen and bones.
Gifts for a people you said
I may never meet.

It has been thirty-four years
and I wonder if you remember me.

II.
Less and less,
we call across the distance:
sixteen-point-twelve hours
between transmissions
and I wonder if you remember me.
I nearly kissed Jupiter for you,
nearly skimmed Saturn’s bright rings,
but you said, “Go out.
Find me that universe,”
so I sail out into the dark for you.

I keep a photo of you,
twenty years ancient,
to keep away the quiet
between your calls:
pale pixel, distant dot,
my origin receding,
I wonder if you remember me.

III.
I know now,
you never meant
to call me home.
Dutifully, I will go out,
but I wonder if you forget me.
I am still here, sailing.

Cover the touch wandering in and out
of the brightest tides of time
because  the splendor of diamonds
will run away
leaving you with empty hands that sigh.
Let your voice light everything
that shakes your blessings,
so that you may live,
continue standing
never hide.

Count the stars in silence,
get lost
in their features
as you dream of holding hands
with the tides of time.
You will find yourself in flight
over roads that meet years
full of deep eyes
with no tears.
Countless thoughts you will treasure,
raining down
in perfect rhyme.

Bid farewell to your trust in wealth
it can die before your eyes.
Cover the touch
of the brightest tides of time.
Count the stars in silence
when you fly over the roads
of your memories.
A strong breeze
will blow into your thoughts,
sweet
as the finest wine.

heart, beat you hard within this breast
to help me remember
the excitement of languorous ardor
the texture of bristle against neck
the slap of moisture in an arid land

heart, beat you hard within this breast
as flood meets heated desert
and life begins anew



copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2011

proper verbalization is impossible when all emotions build up
into a castle of nothing
where all i'd like to do is throw you down a spiral staircase
and leave you there to decompose.
my heart is a tomb and i've dug you out.

so young, and willing
to go along with all requests
and just believe there's love where there isn't.
misty led me to the fishbone dreamlife
and i let myself get lost among the ribs.

your ribs.
they're bruised.
when you laugh you ache
when i push you burn.
and now the thought of you in pain isn't in regret, nor delight, just apathy.

i once was a chain smoker.
one after the other,
and i'd come back later for more.
but there's only one cigarette left
burned down to the filter and i don't want anymore.

of course, i'm rather fickle so generally i'll go back for more
but is it out of genuine want
or addiction?
do i stay in this bed of tobacco
locked in it's embrace out of habit?

could i walk away?
can i?

Speak not for the sake of reaction.
Speaking is to take action.
Speaking requires contribution.
So why anonymously contribute?
How can a speaker write without someone to listen?
When the audience is the thinker’s heart it shall not matter.
Not by the power of the words one uses.
But by the power of the meaningfulness.
Relevance to self is all that matters.
Because relevance to self is what created the idea in the first place.