the window
the kitchen
the tree
the lemon
the honey
the water
the secrets
the house
the dust
the war
the war
the war.

Last night I dreamt you grabbed me by my stomach
and held me there
my back was pressed so hard against you that I melted

And we walked like that together


that night I watched you from the window
and I waved
you waved your fire flag back
at me


And now every time you kiss me I crave you more.

we counted our mother's shoes
on the day that she left.

her silver rings hung on chains,
thin and silver too.

this was our home,
where she took off her
broken hands and
turned her glass
heart to dust.
she only floated when she left
so the wind and the sea could
carry her
her red wine and red body felt
heavy then.
a thick coat of honey on her tongue


what have you made of her, my
mother.
where did you keep her heart when you were
done with it.
what did you cover her eyes with?
you didn’t untie your tombs
from her when you threw
her into the ocean
why did she drown for you?


she mistook your hardness for understanding.
she mistook your attachment for trust
and you, so blind, led (let) her.

undo it for me.

undo me
from you.

slowly.
so you don't notice

slowly so i can heal.


undo you from me.
untie our limbs

separate the truth
from our hearts
finally.

where can i lay my old hands
these days
35 seems so close.

i haven't had a child
i feel like an orphan.
my music doesn't suit me
i'm too young to feel this old
i never moved to new york
i never started my band
i never painted for hours
with oils,
and gouache.
i never loved you,
i never held you like a lover,
i held my own body too closely.
i watched my hours
too swiftly
you are not enough for me

oh here i leave you everything;
my gentle comfort and the way i used to love you

ill leave you with my questions
my "can i's",
i'll take back my keys
and the decade of my woman
You made things so hard

okay, okay I’ve had enough
2003 was so long ago
And it’s all I remember.
How much more can I take of this time

i want to tell you all the time
  you were touched by magic.
you're the most magic that i know.

and i can only dream of you
and your blend of magic

but i just can't let myself.
i've missed it again by years

Spend this Summer too between your fingers.
corn-gold, combed hair.
Only your stains were left painted on the sand,
where your body once stood like a Cypress.

But another time will come.
When the sea will postpone a crystal spring.
And the sea, the Morning; ice cold, is buried alive under your foot.

          - until Spring comes to bring warmth.

-GZ, 1986

I want to write this out so i remember.



again, i am left to defend.
my guarded words against your flailing knives
i tell you all the time,
this is not how to fight.
we drive the rest of the way in silence.
I wont let you free this time.

_____

my silence upsets you.
you begin your tirade into absolute chaos.
i laugh at your dissolution
i can't help it,
i don't cry anymore.
how many times can i hear
that i am only here to annoy you.
that my kindness doesn't matter
to your solid, unforgiving bones.
i tried to make a home for you
time and time over.
i've cooked to your dreams, and cared for, and cleaned.
but again, i am left with only a dismissal,
a distain i've only felt by you.
i sleep on the couch more than my bed.
i don't want to feel you reach for me at night.

-you haven't apologized yet.
_____

this morning came the sorry.
an apology through text.
i would call that an empty one,
attempting to brush under
what you've done.
another rule is for me to forgive you,
another rule is to not talk to you at work.
but i don't,
and i don't.

today you can sit with my silence,
until you're home and i am ready.
to listen to your plea to forgive you
for the fifteen years you've put me through.

but that will never come
and i will just float through this world i've made for myself
in a gauzy dress
with my paintbrush and a palette,
and all my hours to myself.
but that will never come.
_______

i'll find myself again, in a distant year,
in another November's sun.
without child and without love
muttering "what have i done".

knowing this entire time,
you would do this to me.

where would you sit if you were here?
would you tangle your hands
in fabrics and in bread?
would you roast a bird
on christmas?
                     

  -would you make your son
and daughters speak?


your fierce mind and tender heart melded this child of yours and i need you as my guide.

please tell me of this person i've cared for.
please tell me where he fits into my bones.
can he ever nestle easily into my skin?
no, i've tried everything
how can i help to ease into this
when all i need is to push him
into the decent steps of
humankind.
of woman, of man, of child, and child, and child.
i come to you, my distant mother to tell you
your son is not well sometimes.

i miss you and i don't know you, and i miss you.
and your daughters miss you
and they have daughters now.
their world stopped when you left, and i feel like i've been trying to pick up his pieces
but they fall through my palms,
like fingers gripping sand.
he's dropped so many along the way, but i'm trying.


but now i feel more mother than woman.

another day by the river
thats just me and the water
i pretend that its only me
i pretend its only me.

i fight like the present
coming back to my salvation
i dream that it is over
that its me and the water
its just me and the water.

but i cant, i cant fight you
your body's always there.
between my river and the outcome
your body's always there.

i dream that the water
will free me to existence
where its me and the river
and you're somewhere only drifting.
i know i've done enough
i know you've left me bleeding
i dream of the water
of the river, of my bleeding.

i see you on my water
i see me only bleeding.
and a bird flying over
and the rest i'll give the river.

where do your layers go?
and all your stories
and the pieces of you
and the parts you play
and all your memories saved
and all the feelings you've felt
and all the moments that made you.

where do your layers go?
and all the songs you wrote
and all the words you placed on paper
and all the letters you sent over seas
and all the conversations you had
and all the love you felt
and all the places you've been and wished to go.

where do your layers go?
when you've lived for your memories
and you've written them all down
And placed them onto paper
And captured it all on film.

but what about the other things.
The everything else you've ever known.
where do they all go?

how can i read them from your mind
Now where can i read you?
how can i run my fingers through them
Or can they placed in glass for us to see
where they can stay, vivid, and alive
to be seen, to be seen, to be seen.

you've lost your soul on me.
your heavy eyes
show no mercy anymore.
where does your evil come from?
seep, seep, seep.

gutted.

i can't be the only one
to see the night flower blooming.
i tell you, and i doubt

you have ever tasted
the electric
      blend of mouth and neck
i cannot be the only one.

i open a window to let all the light in-
maybe that might move you
to feel the morning
with me.
i'm sorry, is this light too sharp
for you?
      because i need a longer light than that.


Oh, my heavy heart.
look how this does nothing for you.


then when the rain comes
i savour at the river,
at the street below.
there’s a stickiness here.
does the river move upstream tonight?
(was it doing that yesterday?)


          I get used to this silence from you
         but there's a change here
         this doesn't feel like May


i am forced to take in your shadows.
now all that's left there for me to sift through -
woven into my limbs, my eyes, my mouth.

where you've put this limit on yourself.           
where i know nothing more than to
absorb it.

i've come to learn
you can’t force away the dread in your eyes,
as you can’t take away these apathetic months
left here to shuffle through and define.

(it would all just be to try,
it wouldn’t be to feel).


      and thats not enough for me.




i've slowly uncurled my fingers
from your twine-y hair
and all of your questions.
Haven’t you noticed how?

this is my home
and
i want you to leave now.
i want you
to pack away your things,
take your flag and your cup and your dread.
i want you to leave your thoughts of me at the door.


those belong to me
and you are not welcome.
i need to take in this view alone


I’m alone in Delphi
I’m alone in Delphi
with the woman I’ve been forced to be.








(I’ll see you for the last time when the sun sets along the bends of your old home. The mounds of dirt and marble will crumble before I will ever come back. And I feel that would be nothing more than everything I need).

let me be a woman
to you.
let me undress
my skin,

i won't dress myself in oils,
there's nothing here i need to make.
let me be clear to you:


let me show you my crystal,
my honey
how i drip into my skin

let me be your woman to you
let me dance in your waters,
so you can smell the green in me


so you can see that i am made of
soil,
that i am made of magic

The joints
Your knees
The maple trees.
The dragonfly
The bowls of soup
The bones and back breaking work
The years and years.
The threads.
The barrels. The bowls. The mugs, the chairs.

            You should take away the light, then.

The moon
The music
The morning.
The paints and years of colour.
The darkness of the highway,
The frying and searing
The scorching.
The soft grass—The meadow.
Your hair tucked behind your ear.
The moments we made and only I witnessed.

How do I separate a soul from a body. My lifetime of me. A lifetime of you. Why are you making me.

And I won’t.

I found it tangled in my fingers
like a wet strand of hair. It’s disgusting what you can do to me.

What do I do with it- and why do I chose to keep you.

Why is my only choice to wind you up like you’re twine.
Hoard you like I will be able to use you again for something.

When the time comes.
I’ll make a scarf out of you. Some jewellery. A bracelet.

I’ll wrap and twist and build and build.

Can I make you into a blanket. Can you keep me warm. And safe.

Will I find the end of this thread. What else lies here in my bed. Will there be more of this.

Will it be too much work. Do I have it in me. Can’t I just shelf you for later. I wish I can put the time in. As I have.

But you only have given me this one thread. I’ll have to wait a lifetime for the rest of it. As I have, as I will.

Somehow I’ve decided it’s worth it.

You only like me when I’m sleeping -
Where my body is there but quiet.
Where my words come out of my fingertips and onto the polished skin of your back.
Where I’m just a warm body
Soothing you
Pumping you with a pulse
Stretching your bones;
Your eyelids.
Helping you wax off your dye
Watching as you watch
the bathroom mirror - your reflection brushing its teeth, holding its nose; Piercing its eyes.
I will only take your worry.
One deep breath and
I will let it seep.
And I only scratch the surface, even after this lifetime.
If you can, just let me let me let me.
I’m not done here, come back.
Let me. Let me. Let me.
My words can now hold you. I promise.

I will do anything to grow old with you.

this time away from your good heart
has made me
appreciate the warmth of your neck.
here I am with you again,
reminded constantly
that I am always by the sea.

who were you to bend to him like that.

do you remember those days
when you knew where that thirst came from?
Now tell me what moves you.

The divine twilight.
the blue the blue the blue
The soft turn into midnight

You knew it from a lifetime ago -
She comes around sometimes.

you weren't perfect then
But you were so much more than enough
And every time I see the sun i sense you.

you are a lilac dream.
a sunset,
the stars,
everything.