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

20 saved messages

what do I do here
in the shake skizm
in this roundabout way
I decide things
like the colors to find
me
I want burnt orange, ultramarine
ultra ultra ultra
ultimate
a cloud of silence, halo of silence
hello peace, wrap around my brain peace
storm soft me peace, storm brain me please
give me a tough little Rain
I want them wet tufts
I wanna get all puffed out
shook off, sealskin
evapoheart
dissolvelungs
jump your bridge, how did I miss you?
wasn't I always a knot obvious?
how was I missed? & how long will I keep
them all
till the sky breaks across my swarmy head?
I spose

this, mostly

I was thinking, am thinking of color. I am always thinking of color, and was reminded even more of it at the reading of Bluets, and am reading it now, and it is about color, and it's about sex. An old boyfriend once told me that one of his favorite things to do with me is to talk about color. We had been on it for hours, watercolor. This winter I printed some kitsch scenes for presents, giant bats hanging above palmtreed vistas, pyramids sitting dumbly in the background. Maybe I did this was for the mixing of inks, for making a green grayer with red, and  photographed each tightening flush of color into itself. It gives me chills too. I keep ink as a pet. Sometimes it gets rancid if you don't tighten its container. It ends up the bottom of the barrel smell, not like anything in particular rotting. Mildewy, maybe. But I keep them... add a little iridescent gold, I think...

When I spoke last night at the bougie bar to the pbr salesman he asked, do you know what my favorite color is? and I said no, how could I. Black & White, he smiled. I see. Nothing in between. No uncertainty. But my favorite color is vermilion... and he asks if it's a blue. There are birds with vermilion breasts worth finding as examples. The color of 2012. 2012 is over. I overheard my friend last evening at the sunset on campus tell a woman that I have a checkout roster for my personal library. I do this so people can be held accountable for my books, for returning them. There are books signed away that I will never see again. It's  more likely I won't see them again when they go through these proper channels.

Jim the pbr salesman said there are two types, mechanics and creatives. But of course I have to argue. I need rules to dictate what I do creatively, how creative I get, all of it. I could never be a painter. Paint on a blank canvas to me is too hopeful & eternal. I am an extremist I want it all of it right now all of it, all of the time. I think, he loves me, or he hates me. I think I am beautiful or I am so terribly gross. I think I am a genius, or I am the stupidest. I have the most full heart or I've never learned a thing. Black & white have all of the colors in them a scientist says. It is sort of beautiful. But I got a yin yang calendar to color as a gift. & I've definitely been coloring everything. Vermilion, turquoise, chartreuse, gold, pale pink, magenta, ultramarine, my yin/yangs know no lacks/infinities of color. They everything me

before I went to this reading last night I dyed most of my clothes a deep bright blue like