up

so many bugs in your hair to wake up in

a goodmorning place to be

shake the leaves out

shake the leggies out

iridescent wingers

green shine

morning muscle

in a back all taught with tough

morning tuft, curls
shake my halo

smoke hair halo

wave smoke, docile eyes

bee dance, twirl

such a shorty

mourning doves

all of the others in matutinal jam

singing for summer

and overcast under outside bedclothes

I can sleep through the night, now

I am a furnished hole

a piece of finish, sometimes

suspend it

not be disbelieving

slow

Wednesday, 17 November 2010, Boise Idaho (from leather journal)


"I think that job interview went really well," says Brittany, reclining beneath the bedclothes.

-Build a diary
-Dylan & Nancy
christmas
             Aubergine

Brittany's house, roommates introducing themselves to love of life. To get good at writing quickly again.

             Great.

     What are you guys moving?
           A couch.

and later...
              Magenta sky turns lavender. Brittany tells love-of-life to look up... I want to give a love the same urge! Too bad to be loveless. So I send it to the first of whom I think: but remember, this doesn't appeal. And if it does not appeal to him, why does it appeal to me?
        I try to say, it's worth it. If you feel appealed, and if you urge towards response.
But madly you do not. Madly feel nothing. With all the passion drive to feel nothing. If I would keep my mouth shut, my fingers from walking honestly, if I could keep myself from fishing. But with he I'm asking for something, for proof that I needn't be gone. It is so apparent, nothing to do for fighting it. Nothing to change. Yours & your way and nothing else. Forever and ever.
        Oh, day. Coffee, and pot, and a bagel sand? And a cookiedough brownie?! Of which I can only eat two bites. And games of pool, a salty dog, and coffee with whisky & kahlua.

The money I have is for keeping. The nails I have are for scraping.

P I Z Z A ! Michael?
How should we make him pay?

         Look at the sky,
       ? I think I missed it

You most definitely have. So much cheesy meaty grease congealing in a stomach. Who finds this interesting? Brittany doesn't feel good. Her boyfriend isn't calling. The pizza crust sits uneventfully on the plate.

Why hang out? because you can't say no? Even though it's the most obvious? I know how I'd feel if I felt this way. I'd like to say I can relate. I wonder if I should go buy more poison...
          But my stomach is full and all that's left is a walk. To find something better suited for something else.

          "I like Magma Chamber..."


Don't be Molly Molly Maudlin


Have you found a place to keep your face? In a large frame, hazel blue, narrow straight a point. A real blonde, but dark. Mellow monotonous moderately-pitched. The lean height. The oily aubergine curls. Dark eyes framed as always. Lips showing behind thick varicolored beard. The voice of an excited teenager.

           Respond to me, because I'm dressed for 1996. Black little boots, navy tights, gray Paris dress, olive & gray plaid pendleton. The new mittens exchanged; thumb fitting perfectly and rest of hand free & open.

           Exceptional things are happening to us now. The first seconds of freedom. And forgetting and forgiving.
           There are many of us for friends.

          A pledge
                  to never, ever live love in a sentence.

I'm elevated

Thanks for all the notice. The honey of sonoran bees. The limes, the sparkling metal of a cup. My beringed fingers, the faces in memory. The old ones, the nonresponses. How can you have so many histories, so close together like that? Hiding out in the cool humidity, seeing the sun out there & fighting it, the money, the food, the apologies, the wanting to get it all over with & good. Avoidance of goodbyes, the patience in hellos. Your hair is short your hair is long. Your hair is aubergine, it is curls. It is thick & your head is large, it isn't changed, but you with guns, now. The new me, the new her, and the shes in between. The ancient heart of yours still there & with it. The love interests never losing any. Multiples. I am here, on this couch constant, getting stirred from ahead, waiting till body to catch on.

who did she do she

I'm night and day; I think in sounds and sniffs of the serenest cedar, of sweetgrass curls fondling the upsidedown memory breeze. This is morning afternoon now, like night awhile back and me, we just needed to unwind. Unwind around each other then, in the afterwork of uncertain surprise... suspicious sure pies.

I have the legs of a maple-sugared mile, I have the smile of a dove gone black in a newmoon fly-away. But that doesn't stop me from sitting all still all smothered to relax here and just feel like, coat or no coat, the change-purse accounting, my finders dried a counting. I want to court you, but will you let me softly rub you down?

I like this tune, it sings some back room memory like from the wood word of remembers. i like this beer, it tastes expensive. i like this, all of these letters, and I like it specially your recalling the rivers and the decades gone away, like I'm never a part of. Never apart from. and how many?

Slender is the night; stands sideways, blows away. I can see right through it. The music trusts me enough to let me injest it, breathe it. The smells of all the cedars sweetgrasses & sages I crave, and do have! captured in my won rural city! my own rural metropolis. The irony I call like buying the perfect scent. can you believe I fall for it

which is why I can suggest my own paying out of pocket, and pocket-less, it's relating. All the nights and days.