obit

April 4, 2014

Conventional! I have a witness for volume, the neighborhood roars, the lap lap of the sea, the atlantic, little boise roars, the waves lick my ankles of the sand I'm of the sand. I think

 I'll smoke a cigarette. my name is molly, I am just short of 30, I've fallen in love a number of times, I live in little boise, I'm drinking strawberry beer, chad is cutting isaiah's hair sadly, crying at the lostlocks, daydreamy, cedar oil. I shaved half of my dog, she is flearidden. the era got eerie.

 Or, do you want to celebrate?

I live in a room up top, upstairs people land of balcony people, the haunting neighborhood roar. the roar of wet neighbors and dry neighbors, the land of faraway loveslost, lovelocks, lostloves, lostlocks.

recently I have acquired a weddingdress, of course we mean weddingguestdress, bestdressed weddingguestdress, the first lady would wear it before she was she.

pie slits. let out the steam a bit!

bring it up a bit. competing multitudes

signed

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

big rubby

sitting on the front balcony in the wet wet wet wet we're buggybodied
insects
sliding legs against wings against hair! in wave clouds, soundclouds
  like little pour cloud passing over the house
solid mists between
biting my sunset
the significant gray lavender
rubbing hairs with a gray butter peach
  where we are,

I will dedicate a tango to it (5/16/13)

define sentimental
blood red sentimental blues in the style of van morrison
when I was listening to van morrison I was thinking oh man
I'll bet he was like 23 when he made this album
because I was thinking, he had to be 22
and of course, he was
when I was 22 I was in a bloodbath
I had black hair
I weighed 113 pounds
I chased my own tail
I was sentimental
cleaning the sink with bakingsoda and vinegar
the gum red, it was dry
I threw a mango into the yard
I threw the ball for the dog a couple of times
I said what is sentimental and you told me it's the by-product that oozes from your pragmaticism

it's humid

it used to fuel, it is letting itself go, look at it
all shab, all grub
it's avoiding the mirror lately
it hasn't any pets anymore
everyone's in a flat great fucking mood
puddles are lying
reflections of trees
like our CITY OF TREES tattoos we're getting
it rained very early this morning
I want to know how to barometer
how to measure the letting-yourself-go
in length of body hair?
in width of copper chain stain on dirt neck?
in amount of bodyodor emanating?
in a caliper of fatroll?
I just googled the word WHATEVER
but I haven't checked the results
it's 70 degrees, 53% humidity in boise
it's 97 degrees, and only 47% humidity in new orleans
I know how to do this in the wet
so let's get it ONNNNN

lil barfy

this isn't anything. some things produce some things indicate a predilection some things are

the best

no one reads, I can't read any

more good ideas, watch the

turn it off, staaare at your hair

pull it out

of one end 

is not the necessary end all

I'll be all

I'll be all right

side up

side down

side up 

side down

the hatch 

was a fun discovery

channel your those good vibes

tinkle with your felt mallet

my head into pulp

free orange juice is worth

less than worthy

are you

worthy of

course you

might be

someday is today

could be the one 

thing I think about

going away now

is the wrong moment

is what, your favorite

excuse me, but

did you

wish on

the same

star

at the same time?

spice juice

give the length of a sip trying for sun,

the grass always an unnatural shade

faster and fast crawls across

this time of day, meaning, this time of today

or a similar time, but yesterday

oh accidental chives!

oh concrete cubbyhole!

  & the waving nylon slap, whoosh

oh waving onomatqxrzzzdrzzzfzxzZ (onomatopoeia) 

red, always the dull sunworn red

  on flag day

on your staggered haphazard white poles.

pour hours into your glass

heat to serve it to leave it to cool

the tops are for you, they froze for you

finger them out, thumb them loose

they move away from your touch instantly

cringe away the cold, frozen moment

but thumb them, finger-to-mouth them

make them last till 9

with its highwilling sun

and longmoving shadows

 watch melt it

gather your hair in your hands,

  sunset glimmer grass of heat

  grass of heat of head

  mow your head in the sand

   guzzle your years by your roots

     melt melt melt drink

 do,

      only finally but

just love me

dear diary,

I have the good hair, things on feet to jump run scuffle with

it's a full moon in my head and I keep thinking when's my fullmoon birthday

  2024

I'll be coming on 40

I can't wait to be 40 

we'll kill the teen-in-me by then

  I hope I didn't keep you waiting, or anything hearts

   remember the hearts, how to learn? to make them

it's like somehow, inside

 me already though

"it sort of seems like we fell in love"

  or,

"love is for lo$ers"

  

   I don't know

I mean idk how to put it?

                      now, how would you put it

you fell in love with your own image from across the street

you fell in love across a table, mussels

I fell in love with long bones

I fell in love with stringytough muscles

you fell in love with the sound of your own voice

you fell in love with the rain

I fell in love with attention

I fell in love with those grips on me

you fell in love with regret

you fell in love with the frozen future

I fell in love with possibility

I fell in love with bedding

you fell in love with disappear

you fell in love with surprise-I'm-sad

I fell in love with hazy hair

I fell in love with the mouth of the world

you fell in love with let-me-break-your-heart

you fell in love with the lovers

I fell in love with memories

I fell in love with booze

you fell in love with booze

you fell in love with what

I fell in love with pain

I fell in love with me, again?

you fell in love with poems

you fell in love with I'm-not-writing

I fell in love with trying
I fell in love with crylaughing

you fell in love with giving up

you fell in love off the overhang

  I just think we fell in love, totally

   and that we're scratching our ways back

     to whatever dregs we already were

       before we had to look up the words

        in our well masturbated dictionaries

someone take care of it

someone put exhaust in the smoke
or maybe a body's trying to say something
we are a fantasy crowd.
we breathe out noses.
months away (not so very far distances away!)
  and I keep thinking how when I was in new york
  I really wanted one of those gold script ID necklaces
  that all the cool brooklyn babes would wear
and I'm not talking abt the williamsburg babes
highwasted jeans
long hair, big shades
with stick arms
I'm talking about the applebottom babes
  but I wanted one with my old boyfriend's name
  and the guy at the shop informed me that
No, this necklace should be mine
no boys allowed
it's a good thing I didn't do it
else now I'd have a necklace
of Adan
  and we're friends, I'll always love that guy
but I couldn't exactly wear proudly his namesake now, could I?
  how many chains could I wear
if I had all of the $$
  for all of the names
     of everyone I've loved?
just pounds of goldplated shines
  hanging from my grub neck
I'd have to have all of the world's $$, again
  and that would be a weighty take
     on forever

re liable

last night we went to our clubhouse,
nickey, chad, ida following the sunset path
through the sagebrush, past the aspen
and the pinkening donkeytail succulents
to our place between the two pines
on that awkward slope that sores legs
or jambs toes to sit on.
just in time for that first star.
we talked abt what new orleans is like
abt a fantasy mansionhouse
and our brilliant year-round gardens.
a man came up from the house below.
we met him the night before,
he told us we got his curiosity up
bc there lives a family of fox
and a coyote who chases the babies around.
he thought we might be them.
I think abt fox & coyotes a lot
I think how I'd like to join them.
last night he came & sat with us, this neighbor
he was glad to hear there were some liberal people living in the stepford houses
he told us that we were saved for this time,
that we were reserved for this moment
to carry the future. to teach, bc we have the structure
to teach the careless generations beneath us.
he told us about his world drums, slurring his speech,
ice jingling in his plastic cup
he invited us to his sweatlodge.
I was looking at the fullnight sky, by now
envisioning you, flipping your hair
miles & miles away
I was thinking of what I'd say to you had I been filterless
promises I'd make & keep
drives to take. getting you at me.
I am not a wish
  but I am a big future
and I committed to the notions of
  gratitude & accountability
     for my good fullfuture hands
I like the wild dog path we're taking
past the sucs, past the aspen
and I like the certainty that I'm contained, somewhere
there
in a promise to the selves I will undoubtedly keep

worth it

I came back
   the same
but so filthy
I don't want to ever wash my hands again
I am a touched girl
I have a sunburn or a cinnamon tan or something
I held the hair at its roots
  oilcan hair
  make that face
given me a corduroy elbow
given me your smokes
given me a double-sided noose
your dirt hands
that good clean mouth
  make my stomach muscles pain warmly from laughing solid for two whole days
  get it
under that big moon... there is some kind of agoraphobialike condition
  where people freak at the airport
  when they see how fucking big the sky is
I freak at that moon in ocean-sky
  around the fire,
& I just stared deeper
  & finally got it
we're finally burning sadhouse down,
  watch her ghost away

sexy

guessing what comes out? melancholy & sanguine.
sometimes sacred. mercurial baby
  bet on that rocket
  rock me asleep, stone me
    to death. print me with letters
      talk me out of it, talk me into it
close me up
  close up beside me
     close into me
      close, into me
maybe it's the weather
maybe I make the worst weather
  tengo mal tiempo
I wish I had allof the world's balloons to ride
  back to last August or July or someplace
    to some preplace
      when I was just a kid in the sun
         with a different kind of weather
I'm sorry I've been a wrath
  I hope I am honest
  I hope I am a trustful
bc I can sleep through the nights, now
  I do things before bed
  I draw those flowers
  I let Kafka in my ears
& my melancholy blood
  it is a pretty lot still, me
    I mean, I could be a graduate with this mind of mine
  I could muster the strength of many men up in here
  I could rally
    my virility
       I could smoothe her hair
          caress her down
  make less lonely how-it-is
I wonder if I'll get fired for taking all of these breaks
  but I'm trying to get true broke, see
    bc I've heard that sometimes you need to break it
  to snap back into place
       

WHA

To quote Candy Crowley, life is hard
To quote the bulldog with feather headband poster,
smile... it could be worse
Naked from the waist down
reading More, the magazine for women with style & substance
Real women with Real hair
fierce hair
rape victim, whistle blower
mother, teacher
sister, helper
tough fashion divas
monsels
peroxide
lidocain
sterile water
sutures
syringes
chux
lap drapes
must have fall looks
color! blossom inspired hues
re ersing the body's signs of aging

i love this place

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

summer in you

I wanted to write a poem called

I'm having a better summer than you

I was sitting by the river

after having sunk myself in

you know, the short breaths,

the regular too cold for you water

and I am warmskinned, pink,

imagining how you're not  

we noticed the sand

smelled so bad that

I would eventually say, I have to walk home

because I thought a hot day walk from raniers

and doritos and the slow moves of summersoaked kids

laying your head on my pelvisbone

soft of my stomach 

quaking with laughter

under the big tree, spring leaves falling on my body

which I celebrated & you mocked me for it

a lone walk home could be.

but then they all said, it smells like shit here

let's leave

gross beach

dog eating wing

you rubbed my head, my hair which was

just it

more human touch, I am a touch-me sort

out of the muck sand,

I moved a bed to the backyard

but no one bought it, or

I knew I wanted to sleep outside

I made it with quilts & pillows

and Nickey & Ida came in & we talked how we talk

& we smoked & drank whiskey in the dark

and a pine dangled over me.

It was the best sleep like windows open everywhere

I was in a breeze, and everything left 

but I always have the best summer

even when the birds don't wake in my ear

even when I leave the elements alone

even when I have to drive a car

with one window down

because I like a long distance

& something in summer is 

always to be looked forward to

I made three bucks today

man, I just came back from the world... don't go out there

I saw a girl I don't care about, I dropped one of the books I was carrying

she said HEY how's it going! and I said fine HOW ARE YOU

and then I picked up my book

and she said, that's a lot of books

and I was like, yeah

so I tried to sell some books and I only got $3, for a fucking Murakami. I don't know, I've never read Murakami 

I guess I can't talk shit, it's what the people want

I went to the bank and I got $100 out of my bank account

I saw a model, a tall tan with black on, and shades, and honey hair, and a cellphone

I had to go to the store to get beer

I got the ones with the fox on it

and the watermelons

because tonight I am going to write a six-pack story

& it might just be my ticket out of this two-bit town.

But while I was buying beer & only beer

I noticed my shirt

its big sleeves are cut off, and it's haphazardly bleached

on it reads MORE BEER in pink comic sans

& I'm thinking when I wear it I will always be thirsty

jerk

thought to be pretty funny yesterday, telling you what to do

but I slept   in

so I'm not as funny today, more regular-guy today

my hair looks pretty great

I am a shabby

they're going to see my hair for the first time

the repulsed old women

are gonna be like, 

Oh my word

is that a young woman?????

I think I'll have some orange juice when I get to work.

I think I'll lie about how great the chicken salad is.

but really the lie is not too much a lie because whatever

big-bra babe with her glitter jewel necklace & fresh honey hair

is gonna love it 

truly

it's called lying for favors

hey, can you do me a favor?

let me do you a favor.

advice a lie

smile a lie

present a lie with all its fun-lie mass

a happy lie

for your starving stomach.

yeah the planet distance is pretty great

so I'll just orbit for awhile

til it breaks

impulse $$$

it was a sad summer

their names were vermilion beard, sad mouth

it was a sad fall

their names were aubergine hair, squishface, eyelashes

it was a sad winter 

their names were eyes

it was a sad spring

their names were hipbones, limbs, flesh

a bag of lemons is a bad sign is a bad notion idea indication

"if someone takes your idea it isn't really yours"-  go to work

"if I am the only one alive I am all of the life"-  go write in your diary

do you remember when we ate mushrooms

and that kanye song, all of the lights 

showed up

and I fell into your sob shoulder

and you asked me to tell you why 

and I said, it just reminds me that everything is as bad as it seems

did you know that kim kardashian has ballooned to 220 lbs since getting pregnant?

that she has ballooned to such proportions that kanye will no longer speak to her?

I read this off a magazine at kmart two weeks ago

when Nickey & I were buying toilet paper

and she desperately wanted a pop tart

so we were looking among the magazine racks for impulse buys

we thought pop tarts would make a pretty good one of those

bags

I keep on having dreams you're talking to me about grace

and that I'm falling you

following you around from room to room

Always your head, the back of your head for sure

Always your slow stately bringing it up

  like the notion of grace stuck in you repeating

  or you secretly seek my advice on it

and you haven't anyway to work yourself around it.

I am also in a boat

in a cockpit

in a mall

in s america

and I can see your face as the back of your head slides around.

I am not a pretty girl

I am not intended

I wait for summers to come

I wait for bad news

I try to get some 

I try to wait

but I haven't any patience.

I wake up with kafka, breton, sanford, nelson, even nin

but I haven't swallowed anything, still just still just still just.

I got a sunburn, I want to pretend it's a cinnamon tan

I asked my friend if he wanted to get a manicure with me

because he always says he wants to do that with me

he paints his beautiful gold nails

like chitinous beetles

but today there's nothing I'd less like to do than that

like normally

like acetone

like $$

like filipino muzak

like a woman holding my hand, not speaking to me

like all of the problems of our national celebrities

like the stars are just like us

they bring their own to-go jars

they secretly compost in the bushes

they drink stale coffee

they drive home drunk

they wake up and write bad poems

to prove that they are bad, or that they're helpless

like I'd rather peel my skin off

peel my hair out, have a happy saturday

a good may

a pretty week-end

partysoul

throw yourself a soul party

maybe I'll get all high on drugs or something

or maybe I'll be a yuppie

with a shaved border collie at the farmer's market

in swedish clogs

just like the stars when they're just like us

or maybe I'll be an artist

I'll throw up on my nostalgia

and my sentiment will break me out

I did throw something away, you know.

It was a baggage tag for an airplane flight

it said 28 November 2006 on it

it said C A's name on it

it was from the last trip we ever took together, we went from Chicago to Montana

I remember it was 9 degrees when we left Montana

and we listened to Music for Airports by Brian Eno while we waited for the plane to come

and he took photos of me sleeping on the airport floor.

Apparently I'd been dragging that baggage ticket around with me for 6.5 yrs

I'd say that's pretty fucking impressive, Molly Stoddard