light autumn rain drops
the tiniest
kisses
smear the words being delicately written:

"i
would
do
literally
anything
for
you"

we Need to talk

-why is this something saved for later? a floaty, indefinite time in the future: words that fester get no easier to say

we Need to take a break

-cracking open the distance between us like two halves of an egg shell only renders us broken and ready to run

we Need to be in love

-what if our ideas of love don't match?

the only thing worse than needing is
                                                                      greeding

i miss your bones and your breath.the way our curves collide, two winding roads meeting meshing melting together
when i wake up without you by my side i am a little kid lost in the grocery store calling for
mom running running running down endless aisles
i want to pull your voice from the phone and wear it as a sweater to keep in the
warm
and keep out the reality that
appears to be nearing implosion,patiently scratching tally marks until it reaches the number that everyone can feel if they
listen.
i have been told it's a sign of lacking wisdom to speak in absolutes
but love,
i absolutely irrefutably love every piece of you, always, forever , eternal, on and on and that will never
not be the case.
after a crash course in independence and several flirtations with lonely nights

i know i don't want the world; i just want your half

what, in your life, has defined you?

i was laying on top of him and i said without thinking,
''my first love died of cancer
i have seen the empty body of a person i


thought would smile with me forever''

and also i know a lot of strong women

that is what defines me.

Mormons are boring
with their magic underwear
that covers too much.

'i'm addicted to this feeling'
this feeling of: not being at school
not being sober
& being with you and only you.
windows down and the sun make it
amplified,
a moment without end.

be as brave as you are bold
                                              he says,

i didn't mean to
                                             drag
                                             you
                                             through the mud.

and i wish i could have come bearing hugs.
                                                           ­               i say,


                                              the universe is always benevolent
                                              so i shall put another notch in my belt
                                              take another step

                                              find another heart that feels something real.

when you grabbed my ***
without looking in my eyes
                                          i probably should have felt something like a novelty.
when you kissed me hard against a wall
and stuck your cold hand up my shirt
                                          i probably should have known something more than your first name.

when the deed was done,
lying with harsh spaces on your futon
                                          one of us probably should have said something
                                          before the anonymity of the night
                                          ate us alive.

asking all the questions but the hardest one

-           -           -          -          -

when you say you want to cry because you’re sorry, i want to weep because i don’t believe in apologies

-           -           -          -          -

the almost blue sky is suffocatingly beautiful. unfamiliar bed and an all too familiar feeling. limbo limbo limbo under this invisible bar;backbending for the small things, the intangible things. like the dark green around your iris, or the slight, instinctual brush against my cheek.giveandtakegiveandtakegiveandtake,give

-i love you

-i can’t answer that truthfully

-           -           -          -          -

i walk outside in the dark and there you are, blowing dandelions with your back on the grass, a friend who shows up when i don’t realize i need it

-           -           -          -          -

‘you seem like the type of girl who has never had to watch a dream die’

-           -           -          -          -


justification for not sleeping: why the **** break a perfectly handsome insomnia streak? also, music.

-           -           -          -          -

roofs, cigarettes, porches, cigarettes, satisfyingly self destructive habits, Tom Waits, coffee black as the nicotine inside

-           -           -          -          -


or whatever.

in the booth of a slightly upscale burger place
my mother brother & i discussed how the idea of religion makes us feel
claustrophobic
how we would much rather be talked with
than talked at
how A.D.D. only exists so that people can pin a problem to their shirt
and how kids are given tootsie pops to pledge to be 'drug free!'
as their parents fill them up with Ritalin
so they can get A's like the other kids.

i glanced to my left and saw a mother, a father & a son
her nails were very painted
and his face was glazed over with judgement

they had nothing to say to each other.

and when they smiled at the waiter it was not with their eyes.

'something didn't come that should have'
                               you never looked more like a little kid
                               and you wouldn't hug me.
visibly, apathy became your decision
thinly smeared charcoal to conceal
petrification.
who were you trying to
fool?
'abortions aren't a big deal'
                                i never looked more like my mother
                                and you wouldn't touch me.
in the backseat of that jeep
you gave me some quarters
and told me not to tell.
'i gotta go to class'
                                i smelled ****** on you
                                and knew i would smell it later.
                                ****** is what got us here.
i hid my face in my sweater.
my *** said no baby
i said congratulations on not being a father
you said cool and i'll talk you later.
                               i wish it was
                               that easy.

what is your fantasy/?
a canyon, i say

****, he says
i think we might be meant to be
and i'm not saying that just because i am
drunk.

my pleasure pierces the cold, snowy streets through open window
as the deepest parts of ourselves mingle
i give him the ******* of the century
because we are practical and know that a baby born into this world
is a sad baby.

his
******
in my palm
is one of those moments you recall later on as

defining

as pure

as achingly beautiful.

burrowed into this summer solstice body that fits
he says,

i'm not letting you go anywhere.

i swear its juice from those cherries i was eating
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                                           Not
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                  Blood
on the bed.i feel bad when you feel bad about things you shouldn't feel bad about.
with
one of those headaches that creeps
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                                       down
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                   your
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                   neck
into your fingers
i suddenly realize that spreaders of Love are
shot in the head
while the cruelly corrupt plant rows and rows of seeds

what
if
Silence
doesn't work the way they think it does?

sometimes i get caught up in the biggest black magick trick of them all
money is as invisible as the man in the sky who invents freedom of choice and then punishes you if you make the wrong one
playground games for playground minds
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                            sickeningly,
        ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                    it works.

Retaliation! throwing out my makeup / stimulating synapses / loving shamelessly / asking questions / absorbing information /being unreasonable / never apologizing

                                                    ­         Ceasing to Fear because as Lennon said
                                                            ­death is but leaving one train for another.

with face hardpressed against the
                                    cold tile
it becomes an airplane window.
eyes flutter open to see a world i know
                                    nothing about.

I
AM
GIVING
UP
THE
IDEA
OF
LESSENING
THE
JOY
OF
NOW
FOR
FEAR
OF
LOSING
IT
LATER.

THIS MOMENT IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MOMENT
AND
THAT
IS
ALL
THAT
MATTERS.

the walls are bleeding and my fingers are

melting into your skin.

on the back porch, the sky is voluptuous with rain and i’m crying because everything is electric and so, so beautiful

you give me one of those hugs that makes every bone in my back pop into place and then say,

i’ll never hurt you

it’s amazing how you can let go and feel

safe

standing in the wet street, my feet are muddy and i know the moon is shining on my bare legs even though when i look in the sky there is only

lightening

meaningful in its meaningless:
windows rolled down
nightair canopied outstretched
fingers
memorized streets flushed with
the transience of our
itching notions

we spoke of the seemingly surreal future
getting out of this red, square place
and slipping into a big city blissfully
unnoticed

words became arbitrary
as we pulled into the driveway
kicked back our seats
cried defiantly
            the pending beauty
            the potential tragedy
            the growth spurt still
quivering in  muscle spasms


Clarity:
the world holds more for us

i’m afraid of every place ultimately being the same,

different geographics, different politics, different blind religions

but the same

money

power

work

material-driven people

in boxes.

i don’t want to get married. i don’t want to reproduce. i don’t want a credit card. i don’t want a house. i don’t want a car. i don’t want cable t.v.

i don’t want to be in one place.

somebody told me, i said
that my laugh sounds like blues clues

your laugh? he said
i don't remember
what
that
sounds
like.

sometimes the heart breaks subtly.

things that hurt

you drive to his house feeling like you are driving to your death. you make a decision not to cry, and then make a decision to cry like hell. you sit in your car for a long time. you pull one card from your tarot deck.
it says zen garden.
you say, **** that and walk to his door.

he hugs you and you can tell that he knows. his kiss feels small and guarded.
walk the dog, make painful small talk, try to avoid the ocean of unsaid things drowning us both
i should say something but instead i put my tongue in his mouth like it's never been there before
or like it never will be again
my fire hands touch every centimeter of his skinny body
fierce, quiet ***.

he plays a song and says, this is sad and i don't know why
i say, read this please and i put my hand on his foot and watch my own tears fall slowly and land on his toes
he reads
i probe his face for the answers to the questions i never asked

seconds seconds seconds.

he flops on his back and opens his mouth wordlessly
i say, Adam
he says, Kia
i burrow on top of him and try to say i love you but it mostly sounds like hurt
he says, everything you wrote just makes me love you more
and all i can do is cry
his eyes say everything and nothing

this girl, Adam, i dream about her
she needs you
she is better for you than i am
a piece of me is with someone else
there is nothing you could have done differently
you are incredible,
i love you
i love you
i love you.

he says, i wish i was strong enough to hold you.
Adam, i say, Adam.
you are strong
how are you so strong?

it's a survival tactic, he said

i'm having a moral crisis because i'm doing this on your birthday
and he says,
birthdays don't mean ****.

i can't imagine another woman, his eyes his eyes his eyes
i try to pull my heart out of the blackhole it has fallen into
and say, she's lucky

that's when he starts crying
and i feel as though pain does indeed exist.
and then he says, i'll miss you so ******* much
and i can't take it.

there comes a point where we are quiet again, almost calm
slipping into the familiarity of laying together on his bed
he starts laughing
what? what's so funny?
he laughs from the soul
he says, its just that this is the weirdest breakup ever
and i have to agree

he puts his hands down my pants and says morosely, i guess this is my last chance
i start crying
he says i didn't mean to make you cry
i say nothing but i grab him
and this time the *** is loud and desperate

that was the best ever, he says
indisputably, i say
and cry again but it's in the shower so he might not notice

i decide to spend the night with this person as i have countless other nights
but suddenly it's not that person and things are different
i wear a shirt and when he cups his hand on my breast i ache

let's sleep on this.

we wake up and i call work and tell them i'm not coming because of a death in the family
it's not a lie
we wake up and forget for a second what happened
then his face changes and he says, Kia

i cry
he says,

don't.

he says, silly Libra, you are scared of your own choices and i'll miss you

he says, do you want a backrub?
i cry for the millionth time and say, yes

i say, what does it feel like
he says, like i'm losing something i never had

i watch him eat breakfast
i put on my socks
i watch him take all of my books off of his shelf
i put on my shoes
i watch his pull out his guitar and sing a broken hearted song written for another girl, turned into a song for me
he adds new words at the end,
i fell in love with a gypsy girl.

i put on my coat.
he says, maybe i want a guitar tuner for my birthday.
i say, Adam
and kiss him.

i say, this is the hardest thing i have ever done
it is out of love
you deserve the best

he says, what do i deserve?
i say, the best
he pulls me in tight and says,
you are the best

i say, i am not the best for you.

he says, i don't believe you but i have to respect you
you are the most powerful woman i have ever met
and every step, every choice i make from here on out is changed.

i say, i will be there if you need me
he says, Kia, i will never grow up unless i learn to not need you


i say, i love you
and walk to the door.

he closes it on me as he says a simple, bye

i wail.

i miss riding my bike down 13th south listening to hip hop with my yellow dress flapping everywhere

i miss the moment when i couldn’t see the end of the irish sea

i miss the full moon in zion and swimming naked in a river

i miss twilight yoga where every part of me pulsed with the foggy coast and that beach i will always dream of


glimpses

of

*******

infinity.

my tea is gone

my foot is asleep

my brain is messy

maybe now i will let myself

                             drift

muted, soft, numb

as snow in the night

i want to know what makes people drift so that i can blow kisses at them and go the opposite
direction.

let
me
curl up next your fireplace heart.

                      i'll make it easy.
                      i'll love you for free.




i
already
do.

me:

i am moving across the country
                                         
i will be gone for four years

i will be writing and seeing and photographing

and hell is not a place,
hell is having to kiss your face goodbye.

him:

i miss you already

i have a good pair of binoculars

your dreams are beautiful and i am patient as a lion after prey

heaven is not a place
heaven is knowing that we are that one-in-a-billion story that stretches past distance and lasts forever

crazy
follows
me around
like
i'm leaving
a candy
trail

because this documentary is sad
because my best friend's street was destroyed in riots
and i missed her call when she rang from Liverpool
fleeing to a safe place
because i haven't bled in a while
in the way that promises you aren't having a baby
and how would i ever raise a little soul
or maybe it means nothing
or maybe it means i have to tell my father
this
poem
is
really
personal
but that's another thing that makes me cry
why do we separate ourselves from each other
?

1) climb a mountain
2) let the cold wind procure hidden tears,
it's true what they say about running from your monsters you know
3) stretch your arms and scream and be not afraid of any part of the beating of your heart
4) when clarity reaches your head, fill the entire valley below with your radiating

love

remember that time you tried to sit me down and tell me all the reasons why my heart was broken?

and i said, You can’t break that which isn’t yours, darling.

i am in a room full of babies who won’t look directly at me,

only at my chest or my shoes or anywhere they can send judgmental daggers because of their conceptions about our history which they shouldn’t give one **** about but people

Feed

off of dramatics.eat them up and **** them out.

oh, i’m sorry, am i making you uncomfortable by staring you straight in the eye? i am not afraid to confront the coffin of words between us but you would rather

Hide.

behind those long lashes and longer lies.

yeah, i know, i feel it too. we’re a walking graveyard of romance that should have been. i scared you because you could have taken me home to your mom. because i have my **** together and don’t play games. because we met under a full moon and a shot of whiskey and it seemed to easy to be true

easy is overrated.

my knees were once floppy for your love. now they are

Locked. rigid. resonating. why do you keep letting fear win all your rounds?

i will never be able to look the other way.

sometimes you meet a person

briefly,

hardly more than hello.

and you get home

and you collapse on your bed

while your thoughts run rampant.

and you realize,

‘hey,

that person

might

mean

something

to me’

unnamed emotion
slips: over my head
like tepid bathwater
in a clawfoot tub

coil into dimly lit
memories;vintage motifs
where the glamour
is all but tarnished

lips once stained smoothred
are cracked;withered
not fit for a kiss nor a
memoir of the evening

submerged beneath heavylight
weight of regrets?no.
lack of: a detached nostalgia
featuring no judgement, only

the autumn wisps of when you felt anything at all.

life is easily divided into two categories:
things that don't matter being first

and then there's

you.

red patterned morning light drapes your eyelashes and the thing about love is
it's not falling so much as

floating,flying

faster than my head can make words for. so my cheek is on your chest, and i keep opening my mouth as if it will all come out just right

sometimes things are too big for explaining,
like the way you let me use your toothbrush and how the word guileless reminds me of you and how
i'd be hiding,darkening,drowning if we never
met.

it's okay, though. because when i wake up, your arms are my blanket and
unlike a dream

this is real.

you
smell
like:
somewhere
in
between
Sahara desert
and
raspberries

great  beasts
&  even  greater  beauties

swelling subterranean
slowlyseductively
scorching
my soul and asking the very good question:

why  don't  you  let  us  speak?

i keep
         falling
                    more in love with you.
                                                     not
                                                      a
        ­                                             downward
                                                      tu­mble, more like

                                                           ­                             falling up.

a place where it seems we can get no higher,
and then
                                                                ­                        we do.

a beauty i will never
                             understand
exists in watching an
                             inhale
a hit that tunnels down
                             deep
fills up a cracked soul,
one i would like to call
                             familiar
and blows out nameless
                             hopes.
who needs last period?this is the way to learn.

if
moods
are
swings

i'm the kid who jumps from too        high

and scrapes both knees on the gravel.

against a tree
in the cemetery
singing to those
who cannot sing
back
shouting words
above the wind
strumming with
life,
and with breath.

IN MY HEAD, YOU WERE NEVER REALLY DEAD

runawaythoughts are   greyhounding my   restless/
wreckless brain,

we are all afraid of each other and when we say, 'how are you?' it is

hollow.

it is Difficult to not wander             away;
maybe elsewhere sincerity is still pulsing.