optimism

the haha you!
the edit you
there's always the you to write about, a sort-of you
the all-sorts-of remember
mes
I think back
in a few months ago
or 6 months ago
I was trying to see the pain end
trying to date that end
telling things, to picture it happening
like Molly, you won't live here forever
in a deep sadabandon place
you'll find the surface
you'll move in with your blood
get comfy together, you'll get comfy
together
swim up in it, bubbles coming from a nose
for my mouth
how I shout, mouth
to suck
being a stop-now
suck it out, stop being a shop mouth
a sob cave-maker
let your burbling oxygen bubbles rest
let your breath turn into flowers again
photosynthesize
on the horizon
oh haha you
oh, 6 months later you
oh where it came, from where I am again
the dissolve of flowers in a vase
the burning of your name on a hill
my abundant cusses
I've almost forgotten them
empty hole empty house
no more radiant crevasse
full of sinew & thread
the prettiest sky
the prettiest scab
peel me off
smile laceration me
the pink soft of a nomore scar.
  the teen is    dead

basted

I woke up later than usual but I am in here,

and the first thing to notice me was a tiny little tear,

the backwards kind

been waiting for the sun to rise

so it could greet me

back through the nose tunnel

into the canals

so I'm breathing underwater

drowning in sleep

like waking up to your weeping

like I woke up with this soft dog

in yesterday's dress

I've trained John Shinn to not refer to a plaid shirt as a flannel if it isn't flannel

he calls it a plaid, then

I don't even notice that I do this

but maybe I'm incredulous

or maybe I'm just correct

maybe I'm a boss

it's just a shirt.

do you want your shirt back?

the ironic one

it smells bad

it looks bad,

it's a sad, terrible t

I wish I didn't know where it was

within the handful of those I love

there are some who are more difficult than others,

some do worse, some cause upset,

some I can't barely get along with

some I trust less

some are easier to hurt,

some are wound up, like me

some are delicate. 

But we all remain 

even when one of us loses

or loses it

& we don't give up for anything.

I expect everyone to hang 

because to hang is to be worth it is to want to be worth it.

To say I love you in a silence,

I'll love you whatever,

even though you've lost your mind,

or are selfish,

or are too tender for conversation,

or have overabundant expectations.

I'll be here when you get back 

from whatever terrifying trip

you're on

no beauty, all the beauty

songs of yesteryear

Thursday 25 October 2007: 8:16 pm

heartbeats (not yours but mine)

Oh! Tortured lovebliss. But it isn’t mine… I’m cautious, I swear, and eternally.

I haven’t mentioned him because I haven’t mentioned anything. He’s my neighbor, a combination of one and another but mostly more and more he’s just he. The records are familiar. The 4 track, the guitar, the hair, the nose, the everythings, parts of a demeanor. I have a few friends now at 64 & 66 Grove St. There are many others here: A man (in height and wranglers) dreamboar; another, a model, who shares my birthday and is my brother & not mysteriously… And the newest. We hung out and I smiled over and over because they’re all great. They sip whiskey and smoke. And the energy is always up, there is always dancing and the birds sing and there is always music in the air.

Last weekend they had a party. I arrived and was stuck to him the entire night, up until 4:30 or so when we retired to his lofted bed in the closet for final. Steve Reich on the tape player on repeat, and suddenly just a foot touching mine. And then the all too familiar fucking with our hands, and I find him so beautiful we finally kiss one another but somehow by accident. No making out, I refrain…