Justice

I had a long dream and in it was justin laying on a couch. There was a big loft, and layers of party happening everywhere. In it I was trying to reach out to him for that apology I've wanted for nearly 2 years. In it there was a moment of ecstasy where I touched his face and cried. In it he told someone that he wanted to be near me, from his lazed position on a couch, unmoving, untrying for it. I kept pulling him aside and he would push me away and the conversation would never happen. I think I have paragraphs for him but then in real life when we are face to face I have only a sentence where I dismiss everything and say, I've just pretended that nothing ever happened. Because my brain and body have thrown it all up and I don't want it to go any further. Nor do I want to ever anticipate getting what I've needed in maybe one sentence from him, because all of me knows that that's never. All of me has also always known that our coupledom was doomed from the beginning. How many thousands of miles away and the drop of a word or a line and then the dropping of a person from across however phones work. Dismissed as soon as it really begins to warm out, and I'm left with the imprint of my own body on the curb while the sunsets, waiting. For what? The invisible not-really person to become visible and really-there. I had at least hmm let's count them 5 relations with others the summer after and before I moved to New Orleans. I am always reaching out to connect with someone who won't shy from me and from my holding on. Of course it rarely takes but I still do and every notch is carved forever and it shows which makes sense because someone flirtingly accused that I was born in 1973 today. I look at pictures taken 1 2 4 years ago and remember the eerie feeling of existing that long ago not so different as I am now. Still wishing hoping but jaded on the needing of that justice, that sigh of alright, I finally got what I asked for.

What's goose

Hey it's my first time blogging from my iPhone. Pretty cool! Look at that autocorrect just going apes hit! I'm sitting in front of my job on Dryades St in New Orleans Louisiana, it's about 9:56 pm, I'm drinking a strawberry beer and am about to light up a light blue American Spirit cigarette. I unbuttoned the top button of my first (of 3) denim Cherokee brand skirts, on account of being bloated, on account of having my menses. The sounds of crickets and other southern summerbugs rubbing theirs thighs on winds and wings together about me. I made $54 in tips tonight at my job which is easily 2.5 times the amount of tips I normally make. On account of a group of parent-like people having a really truly great time. They applauded, blew kisses as they left. I was a little jealous, they were out in the backyard eating pAninis and bruschetta and other Italian delicacies, and hey were smiling and laughing and, as one of them put it, having such a blast. There was even a giant fan blowing over them.

I'm being destroyed by mosquitoes, too, and the insides of my ears hurt because I sleep with plugs wedged in there on account of my boyfriend who snores and I who can't sleep with rhythmic body sounds about me. But that's all alright. It's called love, and I've for the moment a livingroom, and a couch in it that I can smother into. I just took a sip of beer and it went down as they say, the wrong pipe. I don't care, the displeasure is nearly gone now. Now just back to the squitoes, smoke in my eye.

It's a classic New Orleans summer night, and I say y'all at least twice a day because it rolls out of a summer mouth! It's all fine by me. 

A man just rode slowly by on his bicycle, wanted to sell me a nice push-button umbrella for $3, he is trying to get him some chicken. I do want a nice push-button umbrella; it hasnt rained on me in 3 days which is highly unusual for a typical summer in the sub-tropics. But I have no way of carrying one. I do wish I had given him the $3, though. And I don't have an umbrella when I need one, of course.

Yes, it's shaping up to be quite the typical late July night in the southern USA.

the part of my body that fell asleep

a part of my body fell asleep. I'm waiting for you to fall asleep. I take back that it's all the way all the way. you come, we stay awhile. I'm not meaning any of it!
Let's get real!
I made sangria at work, I washed the dishes, I danced and I sang.
I sent text messages, I thought about cigarettes, about my new dresser, about secret love affairs.
I thought about dating
versus not dating
I thought about my white legs in kneesocks
I ate steak with bits of glitter on it.
I do not mind at all eating glitter.
Did you suck up some of its MAGIC? I was asked
I thought, how do you know
I said aloud, It's complicated
with a scoff-aloud
I thought, when is the last time I made anything?
I'm making sauerkraut. but that's not what I mean
I am trying to translate this into meaning
to translate the wine + lemonade into magic
your hiccups into silence.
I think about the days
where we'll walk around the swamps
the sun filtered through
oaks
and across the ridged backs
of saw palmettos
feet in the sand
fightless mouths
wordless gestures
apologyless.

these are the objects around me,
these are my surroundments.
the translating winds in me
of course,
only wishes still
no magic
yet

most sloppy

I'm so fresh,
not worn down at all
I'm such a tight ship
I'm     ask girl
    how you say,
   so tight
I like this better than with anyone
and I say, that makes me sad for the past you
and so you said, don't be sad
       you're my future    you're my future


from your dirty dish work
with your dirty hands
with your master jeans
mustard jeans on
what hi fashion
  sure that
the mess
we bring this
  is home all the time
all of the messages         all of the masses
all of the messages
  every mess
we mess up my bed
I miss my hands into your hair
I miss my arms around your shoulders
you mess up and down my body
you message across my back,
you mess up
  my mind
we missed in and out of each others brains
mass in
mess out
  we are massive pod
on a flat floor flat surface, cush ground
breathe heavy snore me for me
I'll whisper tired hate at you
are breathing so rough so sleep
    estoy dormir
I'm sorry it's just a mess
something called something
  for something
it's unsafe to step across your body
it's wrong to walk up on it
and through all the sorries
we can sure of it laugh at it mess it up more
just call it out
  of love

dear diary

where am I?
it's night the bugs are silent
but this: go about my legs
scheduling, sucking at my blood
well, turn around slowly, fat body
move about, checking
for degree of lost
for debris I've lost
I slap
bet you squash it, you
everyone else talks about how
the winter is coming for them
but no winter comes for me
I'm bare legged, short skirt-did
I'm sheeny, I'm shy
I'm processing ponds
little pools of poem in my head
my arm stay open
my legs spread
I'm a constant in this pool
I'm a constant sweat
it gets dark early
that's the only way to tell
there's a change
can see more stars than you think I can see more stars than you think.
you'd be surprised at the recognizable constellations I see
the same as they're at home, or whatever
its all open late
arms all open late groping
groping at the full night the full  night
my warm wet me
where am I?
I'm a big open wet glad sack
and I got all
that I smile
and I schedule
and schedule
and scuttle
and sad, at it all
but really not
at all

in me

it is a body heart
a panic muscle
my lungs, yours
full up to the throat.
I talk too much
everyone seems better memory
repeat my repeats
rememberize me.
it hasn't been
long I am
afraid of the big
I am afraid
to fall out
of love with my city
with my girl.
how much room is in me?
to quiver in me?
to pulse & pound in me?
will I shiver me off
around over through to finished?
will I kill the gapes
will I fill with sound, me?
I want to
I want to give it
I want to give it all away
I want it celebrating not
cursing
I want to course with you
I want to birth
it not
death it
I want to steal the
deal
to spark my wordless mouth
my fullbellied, worthful mouth
I want to spout the right ones
at you on
you in you
, in me
  I want us safe inside
we're unsafest. world fastened.
harnessed.

me, again it's me again

I'm getting too good at this
like being too old at this
I'm reading a short story in bed and the story ends and
I realize I've been doing that thing
where I go back in a murky ball
  for you
a guy at work told me about how he cut his knuckle on the meat slicer once
and that the worst of it
was the sound it made.
it was just like the mortadella
it was just like meat.
reminding him we're just meat.
oh I know
it's a brain day
that I'm tender meat on the in & out.
I'm all brain heart lungs
but I look like a regular body bag
and I force them on me
and one day, someone might want to, again

screamy

for those of you writing, I'm suspicious
I have amillion miles long
I am waiting.
I'll sit with your body folded up in me
we're under them, dots con to each, like the pen drops
on your sheets
wish I could find an animal for it
but no matters.

I am growing, in & up too
I've
left, we've talked about it
I'm here for the 4 or 5
nickey britta luke river dad

I like to look at what the others are doing.
I DO not like to think about what I'd be doing otherwise.
I keep glancing out the window for your
spiderlong
and I am wondering, where did you,
& I fairly shed on you

jaded pinkett-smith

in highschool I had an acquaintance named Tjaden
  the T was silent
she was a teen raversomething
she wore big nylon ufo pants
& glowbras
& she'd get on all that ecstasy and twirl glowsticks
her boyfriend's name was Angus, he thought she was the hottest thing in the world.
he told Kari once that it's slutty to wear both eyemakeup and lipstick at the same time
Tjaden taught him this.
I never knew that makeup had anything to do with promiscuity
but I did notice that Tjaden (we'd always pronounce the T when discussing her) would usually be wearing both
so
was she slut-shaming herself?
what a shame
I think I might be
shaming, sometimes
but I never call anyone a slut, in seriousness
it's not a real word, it's an imaginary thing
I've told this to Kari on numerous occasions
bc sometime she shames herself in this way,
  though she'd never do this to anyone else
I think I am used to it
getting used to the what-does-it-matter
who-cares vibe
of those around me
I'm learning to be expectationless
maybe
maybe this is something I learned from you?
maybe I have something from you
  to be regretless about
or am I just
so terribly used to everything
that whatever life sparkle is dulled
and stimulation
falters, falls short of me
& I'm afloat in the who-cares
& the idgafs
until I punch my body back
to the no-it-matters-terribly
oh when will I see YOU again

oh it looks like something bad happened to you

summer just started, the days are getting shorter
I fell asleep by the river last night, by myself, on the lavender lisa frank leopardprint blanket
it was a storm all around
through my eyelids
lightning
and I counted the seconds between it & the thundercrashes
remembering the movie poltergeist
and the movie jurassic park
but I don't know about the science, there
it was maybe 95 degrees, all I talk about is the amount of degrees I know
I am a varying temperature
I am trying to let my hair grow around my face, around my body, root in the sand
I am always taking the beach home with me, too
it feels secret
it feels like stealing
all of the ancient piss to take
I was dreaming, a little when the phone rang my stomach
and I was with child
it came & it became naked & it dove into the cold dark water
and then it began to rain the fat
allover the trees we can identify like cottonwoods & maples
& those we can't
the fat drop drums
we had to go, we had to go
to the yard
to make a bed there
to brandnew naked babes, there

are you selfboring, you can identify
that
are you identified friendless by your boring
are you okay with all of that
where's your girlfriend?
you mean, beside you
Hi, girlfriend
get in me

it's waaaay tooo western sad here
the universe is flashing relationships at us
fisting at us
& saying, This is what you are, you know
This is what you will be should you be
& I am solemn faced in slight knows
  I'm out
  & about
I'm shaking off the splats,
shitting sand from my shorts
pulsing out your water
sweating out of all my numerous little holes
exfoliating to scratch me, myself
pushing the pullout
letting the bites scab burn dry wither welt pus
my style

88% humidity

surprise body! surprise
lately:
petrichor
wet everything
grease girl
favorite song
broodless
dancing till soaking
dancing with dumb rattail joey, sorry
hot joey sighting
dancing to hot sweat joey drumming
of course that hot joey was the drummer, smh
awkward date sighting, no thanks
hundreds of gallons of alcohol
pc upset
aggrofags
sorry, not
come to new orleans with us
puppybody
puppypuke, sorry
ida pizza, smh
all of the $$
happy birthday, I love you
no don't talk to me
other guy, wtf is your name again?
let's make out
no, nevermind
disdain girl
glad for rain
let's party till we die
summer mood
get that moon
get it

hysteriaparty

haha

I am laughing, it rarely sounds like that, but I am full of it

 my dad used to say I was full of it a lot

 it took me awhile to realize being full of it is being full of shit

I was young, shit as shit didn't cross my mind

I left work yesterday and took nathan with me, and he met her

and she had that shellshocked look, like who's this man in my house!

and I don't care... but I should

  I should care, really I should

I locked us out of the house, I had to call Nickey to ask her to rescue us

we sat in the car

  Nathan drank the end of a bottle of flat rosé

  and I drank an apricot cider from a jar

and we smoked, and we listened to the lana del rey pandora station

  and I read him a bad poem, but I didn't write it

  we laughed

  he buttoned up his pale blue collared shirt to the top 

and he put on one of the bolo ties that hangs from my rearview mirror, 

  the one someone in my family got as an easter present in the '60s

  with the aqua leather and the silver horse running.

she rescued us

  we bought more beer

  we took our beachchairs

and I got into the river.

the others came & I had the other others on my mind

  and I was tired of looking at everything

  like my hair, my body

Nathan said If it's inside me, if it's invisible, it doesn't exist

and I said, What lungs? and the crowd echoed, laughing  

                 Liver, who?

I was tired of looking around until the wind picked up

  a fuzz layer took our sun away

   Where's my son?

then the cotton was floating around from the branches,

  it looked like snow

I looked downriver, the wind blowing all the trees, the white fluffs

and I thought this looks like the strangest storm

  here, with my damp swimmingdress on

  and the warm

  and the vague light of the sun,

but this could be a winter's storm

and this could be snow.

what if it was snowing right now?

the wind picked up around us, blowing us over

I went to the car to get sweaters

I got naked in the car for a minute

I walked on the sharp rocks

I told myself to stop looking for it

to stop searching it out

to do what it takes to unlatch

  and when I'm drunk, it's so easy to clear everything but these sorts of words

   with an understanding chuckle, here & there

but I woke up sober, so here I am again

teeth in, ready to anxiety-attack myself

  but what doesn't go away

  is the knowledge that you don't inspire me, you any

                                     & I don't admire anything about you, at all

  and of course, this makes me feel more the fool

as I continue

something so gross,

  so uninspe-rable

  so unadmire-able

but I'm going to go cut my hair now,

  the ugly ombre that everyone brings up

   because I've got to save that money

   because we've something like 44 days

until I break

   physically

from my gooey cords 

  giving me sicklife

  from your gross shells. I wish this was only but finally about one person

a one You

  so I could have an explosion party, so I could blow you up

but You are Many too Many and my brain splashes

 in an overdone explosion party

   where I'm the only once celebrated, and I'm the only one lauded 

and I didn't even get invited because I 

just

live there

ammmn't, anymore

one pack a day on some summer night! I am sorry I tried that, I have hundreds of unfinished paragraphs. what day is it, even? trying to count in evens. I think we're at 45. all of my relationships are mountains. I don't like some of your names. I like mine own. a bull charging at me, charge me. I slept with the one who broke my heart for years. I was a whole person, again and I thought I'd never be. I said inside voiced, I guess you'll own me forever. I would do anything you say. I would move to chicago instantly at your urge. ready to be destroyed again. but of course, I am bigger than I thought. big enough to brush away memory shines, pull out the splinters. lamenting at seven whole years passed. you're not a matter-to-me, I'm glad I'm on the internet where you'd never think to look for me. I'm alright with your living, our earlymorning why not. I didn't tell you anything, and you faded like time makes. my hair still grows, I still sustain a body. the craze wanders, dissipates. but we must have known when we started, again. smoke a pack to your face and die of young too-much, much too young.

molly

rollin down the brown sagecovered hills
home at the new ultramarine morning
  you said I'll be one of the five people you think about
  on your deathbed, we all said quite a few nice things to each other
drove up in there
until we found the view
the orange city lines
blankets in the back, seats down & us all talking
I am a mellow bush
I want warm warm body
rushing me, it's jawing
I love a good bed
I love we'll love each other forever
I love you love I love you unconditional
a comfort that that is OK
bc we seem to be only a few of us
I am glad to have you all. if not your warmflesh in the touch-me warmflesh way
just your warmflesh always-love-me way

closet muscle

I think of cyan in everything
I put it on all of my clothes
someone got fired today
it's sortof dullsky, I wonder if he got to the bar
to get shitfaced after being shitcanned
I have a birthday present for you
happy birthday! here is some of my smokehair
oh, you left a quarter in my bed, how tender
how tedious, I left a button beneath your pillow
  from my dusty vermilion silk shirt
  I wore cornflower blue tights
    peeled from my body
and can't wear my shirt anymore
  till I sew back the button
you should ignore me, I'm a firelight
  watch, I ignite
  gold ingots, look it up
impressss me
  get another pillow so we won't have to share
  put a shirt on it
let me sand allover your bed
  brush it off
   dog paws running against your wall
  scratch me off, cook me dinner in the waxing morninghours
   tell me to move in to your attic bedroom
     I can say whatever I want
       abt you
         bc you'll never read me
  suggest fingers to point at yrself consciousness
     tell me I don't appear to have any, make me laff
read abt how to woo a woman
by bringing a blanket out
  read about how to fuck
    or how to trade tender for passion
   or let's discuss
     that I love the talls, the uglies
       tell me that just bc I'm tan... thank you
          tell me I'm too goodlooking
for any of them
   tell me abt yr disease
     and yr panic
     and yr sad because-of-it-all
  and I'll tell you how we're ready for ever

like everyone

like everyone you cry when you are kissed
  especially in the dark, a tear falling silent from each little eye
down each little cheek
flat on your back, a body
hanging over you
  like everyone does
you think abt love
abt how to kiss without sound
escape
without tears audible
to keep your kissing audience
  in the dark
you definitely don't want a conversation here, now about that
  and you remember the chill of connectionless
  and going in a motion of
no-I-really-do-want-you
just like you think I do want you
  with the windows open & naked
like two kings
  in one kingdom
  trying to share a body
but without that kingdom-brain
without anything for striving
  it's chilly
  & you've got to chill
to flat-on-your-back relax, now
  because kissing is not for minds
  or saving-for-loves only
and loneliness doesn't it save
  you from dying, touchless?
you would cringe for weeks at being touched
  building your fortress
  around your rancid heart
    to keep it all from taking you to war
and like everyone, you try to buzz it away
  with fleets of imagined fire
    and the knowing
  that a body
and a mouth
  can be healthily penetrated
    
     but a brain,
oh
     but that still makes your moats flood out
   and the road is washed away
  so no one can get to us
at all
  anymore

help me find my necklace

little hero,

I too want dog-running dreams

four paws bending

dainty twitch at the wrist

sidewinder against the wall

catching triscuits over a mountain jumping a grave

I bought bananas as revenge

I wake up with my mind over the range

burners low

or mountains separating forever. That's the biggest distance I've ever seen

further than space

is

stay in space

space is pretty pleasy

I'm sorry about my body

It's falling apart inside

strings to pull out of me,

whole parts, globs, gushes

pretty pleasy things going out from me now

it's a mess

and it's a broke trust

nothing going in

nothing going on

no saving, doubling

exponentialling

I'm sorry 

but I can't get high as the sun

as stoned as the stars

wasted as states away

fucked-up as a time zone

blood is in me

like new blood everyday

new little blood wishes when I wake up

old little blood wishes

just wish question wish question wish question wish

like where's the wants to see you again

what's ours is ours

what's mine is mine

I used to like the inside of your head

but where has it gone?

is it okay if I change some things for you

is it okay if I change my smell, to us?

subtle to change my life with you

is it okay if I do some coke, would that bother you

is it okay if I say I love you

is it okay if I show you my brain

is it okay if I change my mind?

I'm sorry about the bananas,

that was impulsive & now they're ripe so I don't know what to do with them.

I wrap around this fur body in springmorning

very close to the dirt, face in

the roots

the gentleroots

gentleman earth

I am a bloodbath

an old babe,

with bloodcurtain as cape

my mouth a twist, a smile, a hellow-honey

my shana punim

my hot-air balloon

my beautiful dreamer!

 watching you sleep is a shame & watching you wake is a slaughter

for you

#32
remember we met.
we shake & wonder,
can you ever kill it off?



#15
to climb that body
like a tree. golden
retreiver face, bored even still

list of things I wanted this year so far

I would give him real hair should I have the choice, but I haven’t, and I’m learning to be more accepting.
I want to quit smoking and I want to run, and to dance. For my whole body to be sore for days and I'll feel like a billionaire.
 Stop drinking the tea.  
Pay all outstanding tickets.  

Eat Food.

Go to all the things.

I’ve got to write, right now isn’t so necessary. Keep a clean room, and rid of the mold in my house. And get some time to be alone, alone alone.
I still have many things to do. But I know one thing. I do not think that… No… I erase that.  
 Find new place to live.  
I will move away.
I can see myself alone. I can see myself having sex. I can  see also not doing that.  
I want relentless passion, empathy, intuition, curiosity, creativity, understanding. Good lovely bloodflow.  
 I need my place, I need to have a home. My own home indeed. With my girlie, a consistent environment.  
And to be independent, I want to go off & do these things because I’ll be 28 this year and it’s time to grow up, to grow a pair.  
Make Boise work because you are here, and no matter the glory of it, New York City is very, very far away, and Ida is the best thing in the world and will she appreciate a New York City, I can’t see it.  
Make the art, work the places, show the things & talk to the people, and see what’s important & do it, and remain alone if you must, if you must. I want to.  
 I have to talk to him about it.  
 I will concentrate on maintaining my health & being strong for me, and making everything I want to be, be. I will be gone during days, and if to write or research or read, then so I will, here and away.  
The honesty I want so badly is only for one.  

poem(s) for hair

from crepuscular orations

down below us was the white-haired man,
it was obvious the white-haired government man was looking for him
he was the gray-haired man's creation.
And smooth her hair.
hairball lichen,
hair lichens
while ratting my hair pre-bun in the reflection with a gold comb
blond-streaked hair.
sun through streaked hair.
their little powerful hairs breaking off and injecting me in various places.
My haircut looks far better
after my hair dries a little,
murmuring into hair
I am ready to cut my hair short.
And he murmured into my hair,
did my hair up and
a new haircut,
cuttin' hair n' drinkin
there is a pile of hair on the naturalist book.
Showed off a new haircut
with the new power-short hairdo,
my hair fixed in back.
The overweight woman with that awesome short hair, highlighted blond
lips and curly dark hair
pretty hair flowed in the breeze of the window...
thick beautiful dark hair
handholding darkhaired tall boyfriend,
through hair
thick long hair
looking up sweetly through dark hair
he looks good naked and has great hair.
So hairy & toothless.
Long curly hair,
hairy, too!
I cried & pulled my hair in the shower
is it his curly aubergine hair?
long-haired, young.
My hair and the captivating sunlight of your glance,
a haircut for me.
His aubergine hair & scented breath & shoulders & neck...
pulling my hair & sobbing silent
this terrible longhaired hero
only in the identical hair & mustache beard zone.
my armpit hairs growing out, now,
his hair-covered body,
hair.
Let our hairs grow longer.
Hair pulled back,
like longhaired men.
Aubergine hair, if possible,
amazing hair
even hairy.
I need to wash my hairs.
the hairless undereyes...
the hairline behind sweet smelling ears...
hair excellent,
hair in his hands.
I have nothing but soft hair,
his hair in my hand,
and hair hidden.
Hair & beard in hand.
The dark hair.
my hair is a wild riot.
Every minute he'd kiss my hair.
but her hair looked amazing.
He has redbrown eyes like his hair
cut my hair off.

from momentos preciosas

The henna crept from my hair,
why not brag about hair.
My face inches from his dirty long hair.
A few people with that mangy horrible hair.
I had to let go of my purple sweater and haircomb...
he was the beautiful boy I dragged home by the hair
with her cute haircut,
The porcelain lid to a hairbox.