they say that to love someone in a lifetime,
you have to attend a thousand funerals
of people who they used to be.

i stood before yours in disbelief,
as you stood before mine;
pale, cold, grasping for life.

IA

In a tectonic motion
Mountains have formed
Ridges deepened
In the blink of an eye
In the breadth of a gasp

I recognize myself
Asking why they assume
That we find who we are
Within the singular grasp
Of a mere single soul

For I feed a thousand of them
And they feed themselves alone

Your so-called meditation
Must be taken elsewhere
You must see that it was
Never yours to begin

Watch the rearview mirror
As it enquires the wisdom
I am but a multiple
Left merrily unresolved

he melancholy muses, his hand upon his chest.

a thousand miles
                                        she replies, a thousand eyes winking lying
a thousand quiverings
                                        she denies, a thousand quaverings
a thousands hairs
                                        she sighs, everyone of a different color
a thousand songs
                                        she cries, not any but not the one
a thousand sensations
                                        she implies, by silence, not the same, sensual
a thousand touches,
                                        she asks, slyly, is it your tongue your finger?
a thousand dies,
                                        she contradicts, all mine, not yours, or ours!

<>
and then she speaks, in Italian, a language so musical, it’s melancholy  at its very essence.

I’m no longer of surety possessing,        
Non ** più la garanzia di possedere,
is it my finger or my tongue, is it              
è il mio dito o la mia lingua, vero?
that my finger became my tongue,        
il mio dito è diventato la mia lingu,
all senses at attention, blurred,              
tutti i sensi all'attenzione, sfocato,

the love song enactment, touch
                                (recitazione della canzone d'amore, tocco)

I’m heading to a special wood.
A magic place to be.
Where whispers can be heard,
from swaying branch of every tree.

There’s Oak and Willow,
Ash and Cherry too.
Each has a tale to tell
and they’re whispering it to you.

I’m going to a special tree.
It’s been here just one thousand days.
At its trunk I sit to listen
to the branches in the breeze.

I pass to it my confidences
and tell it tales anew.
In the hope you hear me
through prayers I send to you.

They don’t just talk, you know.
They take the time to listen too.
If you’ve got a tale to tell,
the tree will pass it on for you.

So, find yourself a special tree
and tell to it your tale.
With a rustle in its leaves,
your story, upon the breeze, will sail.

Each tree, like a guardian,
stands tall and stout.
Giving succour to the ground
and all the flora ‘round about.

Their branches reaching to the sky.
Their roots the soil beneath.
A bridge ‘tween heaven and earth.
Giving faith to my belief.

I gaze upon this special tree.
Think back a thousand days.
‘Tis here you’re laid to rest.
The place I come to pray.

This tree brings hope, that much is true,
and like a conduit,
through it, ‘tis my way,
to commune with you.

Moonlight on her sweater.

Alex took a 3rd.
Shot in her head.
Didn't know any better
She pins the 44 at the wall.
Skulking at the rain.
Tired of the poor of it all
The lie of the weather man.
The azure wind in her ears.
Words.
Saying that ran.
Behind the fears.
Left only foam from her mouth n her toes in the sand.



Garrett Johnson.

The problem with being happy
Is a lot like the problem with pluto
It was a vague way of
Describing a complex thing

Our sense of happiness is so fragile
It can be destroyed by simply asking whether or not it exists
Instead I'm busy
I'm interested
I'm fascinated

I want to build things
And then break them

I want to be busy and beautiful
And brimming with
Ten thousand moving parts
I want to hurt
So that I can heal

And that's okay

Ten thousand hours to master a skill,
Here's ten thousand words on how i feel
Take them at face value,
My mind is trying to make my heart real.
America told me to hold onto that belief,
In a country free to have a dream.
I've got ten thousand words now,
This is all I ever wanted to be.
Pointing at myself in the mirror saying
Don't you lose that steam.

I'm creating my own space,
I've waited so long to have a taste
And i would fight to the ****** end
Anyone looking to take it away.
So while you walk through the stores
I keep tapping these keys away
Hoping one day the shelves will say my name.