There was some expanse of time
when I could still count my age
on just two hands
so I wouldn’t have to speak when asked
When my mom still hugged me
in a fluffy towel
when I’d just got out from a bath
When lava lamps
were very popular

There were two in my science classroom
one in my best friend’s room
plenty on tv and in books and magazines
and one on my sister’s desk

I think I sort of wanted one
of my own
but didn’t want to ask
so I just always turned
my sister’s on
when she wasn’t around
watching it sideways and upside-down
and backwards and forwards and right-side-up
marveling at how
it always seemed
to look the same
and making sure
I turned it off
well before she came home
so she wouldn’t know

It was the same thing over and over
up and down
heat up and rise
cool down and sink
blub blub blub
repeat repeat
but it never got old
always in motion
so it always seemed different
despite the same old substance
being inside

I am glad I learned to understand
the intricate beauty of lava lamps
If I hadn’t
I might have had a harder time
tolerating the workings of my very mind
than I already did when I realized
it was all the same
all the same

The mind bubbles up
the same old goop
over and over
tricking us into thinking it’s new
by catching interest
in those moments of change
of transition from
too hot to sink to
too cold to rise
It’s the same old brain goop
the same old thoughts
the same old themes
the same memories and wishes
and dreams
It’s easy to feel trapped
when you’re floating in goo
and not watching from outside

But that never bothered me that
was the thing
Sitting at my sister’s desk
watching the same goop
never bored me
All that mattered was that
I was having a nice time
and the lava was pretty
and I knew my mom would be there
to hug me when I had my next bath

Trickle,
You are picturesque abstract
Elongating droplet stroke
Smiling on surfaces
Fondling oxidized tissue
Making love to ozone
From afar

Trickle
I am painfully patient
deliberate witness
to your
becoming
A river

Breaking my o-zone of comfort
Vapor distorting solidity
Fall back unto me
Bring back the salt
that I squandered
But don’t
Deliver this clarity
razor-sharp
Through the fabric of irises
So impossibly deep
In the flesh of my
Indigo sky
Embedding eternally
That state-shifting
Thought foreign body
Lost in the cobwebs
Of amber-caught impulses

Today I'll paint a house
in my drawing book
Jasmine wants to make love
There is the distance between the photo albums
Its sun was hot
She wants the hands squeezing her hot *******
A laughing child would be
missing in my white floral dress
I had reddish brown hair
and I didn't know
why the wind took away my red scarf ?!
Your eyes have sticker !!!
Please do not laugh at me
My ******* were not yours

من امروز
خانه ای را
در دفتر نقاشی هایم
...رنگ خواهم زد
یاسمن هم آغوشی می خواهد
میان آلبوم عکس ها فاصله اند
آفتابش گرم بود
دستانی می خواهد
سینه های گرمش را بفشارد
کودکی بخندد
در پیراهن سفید رنگ گل دارم
گم شود
موهایم خرمایی رنگ بود
و من نمی دانم
چرا باد روسری قرمز رنگ مرا
با خود می برد !؟
!!! چشمانت برچسب دارند
خواهش می کنم به من نخند
سینه هایم مال تو نبود