anymore

I miss having fun with you, do you think we'll ever have fun together again?
I wanted to have a cocktail
at this poshplace, I had an oldfashioned
at the bar
and I sat next to this bearded guy
who I couldn't look at
 and who left instantly
I feel like if you want to live here you have to be in love
with her
here
I feel it in me, it's not devastating
I wonder if I will drown, here?
or get up?

  of course we will
be laughing
and nice to each other
I don't know where my   space    is
  it's everywhere

I got pulled over last night
I don't want to drive anymore
I get nervous
I want to put an e in nervous
I want to spell nervous with molly

I don't like to be a  thing
in your freedom thing
your venge
isn't mine
I wish we could fuck loudly for someone else's benefit
  I don't tear up that
  just makes me shake your head
  it makes me a judge where I don't want to be

my throat hurts
my head is filled with coffee
and with shit
and with chocolate scone
and with a nap
  I think
              I won't tell you everything
anymore

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?

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

chasttity

 will I ever be as pure as you?

I have had sex with over five million people

I could name them all on

the worl'd

on the longest paper

I could write a continuous manuscript

on a roll of parchment,

but does that change it 

but doesn't that change it?

filled with all of the sorries

doing the let me explains

urging the hear, here's whies

switch ears, I'll give another

moral blunder

your pink holes

in your pink head

there is always a you, you

and it is about you

but

we like it when

the you changes

and you are you a new you

and the you doesn't hold

to the things about me, you know

and I hold to me

and you hold me like me

like the millions have held

like I'm held in the millions more

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

on nonboredom & revengespectations

The nonboredom, but the unwillingness to live hard. Maybe it's my blame on the lacking braincells, because of illness. It doesn't stop the beachparty popmusic, nor does it stop all the showers I take. The chapped upperlip is a result. The claws are not. I also am not stopped from wearing the bright red dress: it is a powercolor. How can one not smile consistently with all the confidence mustered? 

I have plans for us, for us too. It will take weeks, but I'll be placated meanwhile; my bruise tattoo will be mollified. And everyone thinks he's a poet when he says "mollify Molly" and his peers congratulate him, but I say, you're not the first. And won't be. 

This is too much information to keep in a head! How exhausting. I'm going to sit serenely on a sheepskin painting aqua and crimson, threading a needle in & out of folded pamphlets. Plastic ono will be there, and the appealing overdose of theraflu. See you in four weeks.

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.