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

in me

it is a body heart
a panic muscle
my lungs, yours
full up to the throat.
I talk too much
everyone seems better memory
repeat my repeats
rememberize me.
it hasn't been
long I am
afraid of the big
I am afraid
to fall out
of love with my city
with my girl.
how much room is in me?
to quiver in me?
to pulse & pound in me?
will I shiver me off
around over through to finished?
will I kill the gapes
will I fill with sound, me?
I want to
I want to give it
I want to give it all away
I want it celebrating not
cursing
I want to course with you
I want to birth
it not
death it
I want to steal the
deal
to spark my wordless mouth
my fullbellied, worthful mouth
I want to spout the right ones
at you on
you in you
, in me
  I want us safe inside
we're unsafest. world fastened.
harnessed.

driving through bayou

that daft punk song is on
I looked at the map
there is water everywhere
I'm thinking about the alcoholics I've loved
I guess I'm reading a lot of Raymond Carver
it feels like the closest I can get
to them
and I've been alone for long enough
which isn't long at all
but maybe it doesn't do well alone for long
it dies inside a little
the people around me love 2chainz
and they overuse the word yucky
I don't like it
it makes me feel lonely when everyone else is laughing and making noise
the white longlegged seabirds with the slender bills
sifting trash
from the gulf of mexico
I should stop reading these stories
or I should stop thinking of people I used to love
or still love
or I should stop loving
or expecting to
or I should stop drinking
even though they do love me
more when we do
I like living in a place that's sinking
I like keeping my mouth shut, just
watching for the other mouths
of sewers
to get taller than
I

hungover

I can't tell if I'm straightup being ignored by you
I don't want you to leave, am I? where are we going
I don't want Kyle to go back to Nebraska, it makes me feel like I'll never see him again.
I don't want to never see you again.
I did too many bad things, I lost all of my words in one paragraph
I lost all of my tears, down my throat, backwards
I don't remember getting home
to your home
you interrupt ignoring me to ask me if I know what time it is
I don't know how to find the things
the people-things
I've lost
I'm already gone
I'm trying to be capable
I want dates
but I am so sick on dates
I don't know if I impress
leave impressions of, on

I like your face
I like your beard face
I like your profile & your mouth
& the way you point instead of speaking
I like that I'm in your kitchen
& I'm writing about you
& you're moving about

and you just handed me a black ricecracker
with hummus & pickled okra
it was really pretty

I'm always asking so many questions
so people shush me & hush me
when in bed & I'm talking in my sleep
I forget sometimes to not read your
poems and then I can't tell if I'm
sweating or if I'm crying

there's a golden retriever wandering around outside
and I feel this weighty terror
& a terrible jealousy at it

raise me up

in haunting backs, smashed up
all of the compliments
I have to go visit my mom for some first time
I have a whole family
to share my pits with, my grub
to not smoke in front of
to smile at
to not get too shitfaced, to keep it together for
to let know my excitement
they might make me go rafting, or something
which will be pretty
it's one of the prettiest places on earth, Hailey, Idaho
I'll sleep under the stars, I'll read my kafka & my baudrillard & my sontag in lamplight
I'll think of your haunting back
long smooth brown, because I'm romantic like that
of your mouth, the prettiest part on you
with a mole on a lowerlip
Do you like it?
I do, I do
I compliment you freely, no one likes compliments
  because they don't seem free
I'll drive alone, no
just me, my brain riding in the scrub seat
I'll say goodbye
I'll say hello to a secret you
  when we last met in the tropical bed drinking rum, running our bodies out each other
  but that was years ago.
  and we're brothers again.
all of my brothers, then
  and I'll be the failed aunt daughter sister
whispering, bye byeing at Idaho
    you little sucker
bye byeing at the mountains & clear summer waters.
see you soon, future turn, let me let's go peacefully, wrap my brain up
wrap me good, my little passenger

badbrain

we're having a conversation in the middle of the foothills, right now
you know that, right? we did
we fucked them all
bye bye out of mouth and I
make underbreathed promises to self about
  who is I really?
what kindof a name is Ammon
it has many favorites
I'm a collector of letters, by the way
God is a collector of prepuces, by the way

I'm sorry
  again
I'm waiting for someone to come to my house
on the porch
on the battleswing.

"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

one nightstand

one object cannot flank another object
one beard is not the world's beard
a bed on the floor doesn't allow for a tall table
  but a wooden box on which
to set earlymorning unmentionables
  or to obscure little desire-machines
  don't check my motor
  can I check my pockets?
give me your square teeth
  should I say hi to you?
sure, do it
  no no, nevermind
    don't say anything.
a bandana person
  save your scent to share
    get your neckblanket on me
to guzzle
   you through a nose & open drink mouth
I am pretending to smoke a cigarette
in the alleyway, back to the sun
  bc I want to think abt being naked, if you can imagine
  and the tight holds
handles of bones
  a spotted concave chest
    a long torso
      a maybe ugly
    a darling as darling as darling
instead of wandering, breaking everything
  shattering itall
    sparkle cuts allovertheplace
who needs furniture? we ask
  new orleans is on my to do, you said
  a given name? what give you me?
I'm really glad, you said
  we met
stay sweet, I said
  stay sweet, we said, and did
    I'll bet
from our low cushions
  and nightstands

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

FOREST HONOR STODDARD

"The typist lived in a kind of limbo, hovering between heaven & hell." C.L, The Hour of the Star

tiny brimfilled winejar

just colors to design us in

someone's exploding

across the lake

  catastrophe bangs echo

are we in a rough neighborhood

I feel like a tough place, sometimes

on the lake in a dark wet breeze,

    Do you think we do things on purpose that are harder & worse for us?

it's raining on me, on my books

  my winejar has turned into a kalimotxo jar

it's raining around that good lighter

 and on The Hour of the Star

   and on The Blue Notebooks

Forest Honor Bali

  at the cabin we wear our

cut off cardigan sleeves

  as legwarmers

over our jeans

     they end up looking like

  festival wear

      burning the forest down

       with all the lights & smoke & vibrations

I have smoke face

mouth, ears, nostrils all smoke

smoke in my eyes

do clouds get thinner when they rain?

is it just

  I  L  L  U  Z  H  U  N  N  N  N

trying to be a poet in the rain

  trying to use a notebook in the forest?

           Climb a boulder

           Drop a laptop in a lake

  attend poets diversity college

   and get one for free

     if you graduate

I'm late

before I went to the babyshower

Britta dragged me to sheepherder's breakfast, which is something I'd definitely have taken you to if you'd come

chorizo & eggs & pimiento sauce, and bottomless frozen sangria & churros

but I hadn't an appetite, I drank all of the frozen sangrias

and the sugar tangle of the churro couldn't quench anything

on the way to the babyshower I thought it would be best if I showed up pregnant & engaged

like my two cousins, respectively

and I'd take the party away from them

and that was funny to me

because I felt the cling of forever

at the notion

she says forever to the guy who said marry me

she says forever to the baby she's doing

and that is a word I have a strangle-to

but it never ever stops finding me for trying.

I guess you all fell in love with someone else,

it's what I'd have done if I were you

but I never want to be like that

   I may be a planet

a gassy little planet

but I'm solid

even in orbit

and I'm a relier 

and I'm rely able

for always I say always,

and forever is in your mouth

and you spit it at me

and it clings with suckers in me

and now I'm a danglefish

and I'm a tanglegirl

and I'm still an alwayswill

                        alwaysdoes

and I'm still a forevertry

                      foreverdo

and may be you see me banished

bashful

tender or miserly

but as they say, I am not a broken thing

             though I have my broken things

we can't be altruistic we can't be selfish

we can take care

we can take care

&

we can take true care of us.

I wish I had health like yours,

but I'm more lightning

than you are cloud

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

waft

my dreams are coming true

my sweat hands are pouring it out

my sweat mouth is   pouting it out

I am becoming an onion

I am not red 

I'm not white I'm not green

I'm not a rosy little shallot

but I am rank

I am a fetor, organic earth bulb

little dirt baby

organ baby

juicy layers

I got this B6 vaping out of me

the vitamin C all cloud water around

but I haven't a stalk

or a shaft

or a connection to anything

just a globular squish 

solid-bod

cut into me

get me open

cry when I vapor you

when I steam on you

when I exhale
allium miasma

little mist

little onion burst

they don't make me cry at all, never

but I'm ready to sweet my juice on you, 

for your big old tears to drownout

sad 

little 

onion

cynic

a joke on forever

When I went to the desert I met again the old crusher destroyer love of mine, the one who ripped me to shreds over & over, but it had been six years. Six years since I last saw him, running from me through the dark parkinglot, 3 in the morning after his 21st birthday, over parked cars, his long body too fast up the stairs & disappeared into his apartment building. When I went to the desert we met again, that last sighting still that last sighting, and we sat on a curb on a desert street and we uprooted all of the malicious & cruel things we'd done to one another. He was in an accident & cannot remember a lot about us. He can remember all of the badness, the desperation, the vengefulness, the gross vomitous terror of it. He can remember the tattoo of the mountain bluebird. He can remember the old canteen bag I use as a purse. He cannot remember the stencil I made, of my likeness with the words I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I'd spraypainted on the sidewalk in front of his apartment on Surf Ave. Just after we'd met & I was certain. I made it as a promise to never say I'm sorry, to never relinquish the blame for anything, should we never do anything to make an apology foam out. (You said I'm sorry the other day, and I give up on you) After the night, physical, close, struggled, serene, simple, devastating, shaking, I came to & we parted but I distinctly remember distinctly remembering all of him from six & seven years before, the way my thoughts collided with my brain with my heart, the way my heart split into dazzling pieces and I was able to scoop him up & roll along, and the bullets & the armor dissolving into me when he stopped being there. I was gushing, asking for him to stay awake with me that night because I was panicking, something I should admit to doing more frequently than I admit to doing frequently. He raised his giant head, his giant eyes half closed, a giant hand beneath a small familiar chin, and he listened, smiled dazedly, let me in effluvia. I couldn't move my thoughts in order, I was turned around and interrupting myself, I was shaken & my brain was pushing out through my mouth, and I was wet & chilled & hot & taken, and all I knew is that I was desperately grasping in the devastating familiarity that he should be desperately grasping for something, too. I'm the only one here

When we left the desert that morning, I sat in the backseat of the car watching the big saguaros slip away, the empty hot settling in, my panic lifting me out of mind. Suddenly, I was losing everything: the desert I so loved, but then, didn't I only love the desert because he brought me there, seven years before, and showed me this place, this lovely wild place, and I'd become obsessed in an effort to cling always to his absence, to the loss. I was losing everything: my bronze metal from a ski race when I was seven; he'd helped unwrap the chain from around a strap that morning, so I was paranoid he'd stolen it (I found it an hour later on the seat beneath my body), I was losing everything: my wallet in the gasstation, I was losing everything: my phone in a bookstore. I'd already given up on a mind, my heart, clearly, was thrown in pieces at him years & years ago, he had it, he kept it, he shuffled it around with him maybe without even knowing.

I thought I'd grown, become smarter more beautiful less panicked less desperate more full more certain more effective more intentional, and I realized in that tear-car with all of the loss around that someone owned me, that I'd have done anything for him then, I'd let him pick me apart even if it meant I'd never come back. I'm ready to be destroyed forever, if this is what you want- this is what I'd given in, to. How disappointed. I guess I'll just be like this forever, I thought

but all that dissolved a week later. Experience is the best therapy maybe, even though I become increasingly less popular in the world

29

it's official

summer is here

I baptized everything

at do-it-yourself doggy detail

the proprietor is a giant man with dredlocked dogs of all sizes

he said, When you shave a dog like this, 

and we look suspiciously at the collie,

You have to go at it like you're scraping ice off a windshield

it's official

because Nickey made us a birthday salad

like she made last year, when I turned 28 

& discovered bulleitt bourbon

Everyone cries on their birthday

& I was in love again or still with someone I'd loved 5 years before

and I left the bar alone

so the bar could be alone

so I could be alone with my middle-aged present 

& my maudlin I-miss-you past

we drank the bourbon with salad sap,

rhubarb syrup

we took it to the river with us, 

and a shorn collie

and our beached chairs

and I climbed into the river, under the water

and while I was inside her for those seconds

the hard seconds, my being very much aware of how

soft & warm

my innards are

how they're encased in a thousand knives stabbing you all at once

not to beconstatly reaching for titanic quotations, but

it was a bliss

a true moment where I wasn't terrified

because I am 

soft & warm

at least inside, still.

and I surfaced, gasping, mouth gulping sun

my wet seal hair long down my back

the droplets on anxious tired flesh

trying, breaking, popping 

in the light.

When I'm 29 I will police my emotions

I will make arrests

I will cuff me

I will throw me in the back

I will read me my hurried rights

I will put my heart on a leash

in a chokechain

& demand it next to me

legless, dragging along

taught tether,

slack tether.

that water was life-affirmer

my river hair, passion-confirmer

vehement future-asserter

(The other day she asked, how do you pronounce that word, vehemence, and we said it aloud a couple of times

I don't know that I do anything with vehemence, I said, and there followed the scoff of the century.)

When I'm 29 I will write down the names of everyone I've been in love with

and the list will crush the planet

the names will fall into trenches

into little graves

with headstones in ornate decay

How many people have you been in love with

Are you in love with anyone, now?

I used to ask two questions

when I was falling in love with someone, I'd say

Are you in love?

and

Are you an alcoholic?

It used to be that I'd turn away when the answers were yes

which they often were

but mostly I'd stay. Else how would I keep it all so relevantly destructive?

There are new questions to ask

like,

Do you love

or

Can you?

How many people have you been in love with

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 9

or

1,2,34

or never say forever, and never forvember me 

nevember me forever

what's the difference

between you and a chair

I would say I'm average tall

not short tall or tall short but sometimes someone 

just needs a chair

to stand on

I can't stand on shoulders, but yesterday I got a leg up

she made a basket step with hands so I could look over the cement wall

my friend bought a new house, and maybe it's my new house so we went to creep around the outsides of it, and it has these thick levolor blinds. a fireplace, carpet city

I like to live in curtain city

sometimes, 

but it's like the I have a choice kind of sometimes
& in a carpet city, we're choiceless

so one has to buy an expensive vacuum, which reminds me of

one of the differences 

between you 

& a chair

a chair can't buy an expensive vacuum

and you just won't

I can & have stood on shoulders, but 

I don't really need to

I live with a tall tall woman 

who can reach everything in the house.

& she puts things way up high sometimes

because that's where she sees

and I, I'm thinking

I'm thinking from way down here

I'm thinking how I don't have an arm like that

or a legs

like those

& I don't have a way to get up

or stay up.

so I ask for help sometimes

sometimes

if it's not inconveniencing anyone, I'll ask for a hand out

or an arm's reach

or a leg up

& then if I have to wait 20 days for

a handout or an armsreach or a leggup

I am begrudged

& I pull out a chair & climb on up

Some differences

both have legs, you have only two

both can have arms, but you have to

you have hair

a sad mouth

cornereyes

words

sweat

a chair has wood

a chair has upholstery

a chair doesn't spell it out

a chair is silent 

a chair don't talk back

a chair gets what it deserves.

I'm actually going to try to sell all of these chairs, how many chairs are there in this house? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 inside

& more outside, but I like it out there, I think you & the chairs both like it out there so we'll just stay in wait for the next 20 days. It's sort of hard to give them up but I think it's right, the deck is wet, the trees die & get wet & get up again, and I wonder how hard it would be to use you as one or a tree as one, and then I know immediately that it would be the easiest thing in the world

old relevant

I don’t even need to kiss. But I do anyway? & I showed late to a dark lawn with a poet reading from the scrolling light of a smartfone. I was quiet, in ambience. eyecontact unwavering. And sitting next to me, introduced, and lovely because from us the conversation then readily flowed. In the grass with jars & cups of wine, like oldest friends sharing knowings all together too easy. Maybe it is easier with a boy. I haven’t met anyone like that who I’d like to just sit by and keep talking to; the girls I know in some sorts because of how easy it is for us to just be. But he it was like a lost brother of mine. Then breakfast, sleepless, and it was a depressing breakfast, in that the breakfast was depressed. Eggs in a weird isolated pile, a couple of biscuits that didn’t fit anywhere, some sad potatoes. We only go places for geriatrics. And hopefully will. It is exciting and we can’t be. We are a secret, a secret shared with bars & the heavens & some select northend streets. Our bicycle seats & our diaries. He asks me questions. No, he just listens. We can’t talk anymore about the good that feels, or the beauty of faces. I can’t think about the feeling of a hand pressed hard against a low-back, or the clench of small arms. Golden beard, Nordic eyes. But our smiles! the best, contagious. Not for those long distances and uninvolved. I got through a day of clenching my lust-carved jaws, of hiding my heartattack chest. And just the saying of the bare-minimal, just that I like it, I want to be best friends, I want to. I have blood-filled veins, after all, and a heart that shakes and pounds, and legs which want to wrap around, and a mouth that kisses with all of itself. I am not there, there, there. I am older now, smarter. I am not in love, I am in love. I am in love with every second, sometimes. Since Sunday night. I am in love with time elapsing, with an everpresent future, with the thoughts that a body feels! The movement, the passions, the lust embrace that I KNOW isn’t gone, has just been hibernating, has not been there, at all, real. It might not be he; he I like so much and feel so connected to, really, like everything is just there and so honest & obvious.

It’s 28 or never baby.

talkaway the nighttime

do I know what to makeout of you? not even trying, but desperate to. I have the familiar glasses, the quench, and maybe the too-many mentionings, but I am still in one place, and you have left already. but my place is still on the warm, late-night pavement, and my heart still beats beneath a barefoot, but yours has wilted in the slightest in the clearest, and it has begun some slither towards away. even the foods I want don't exist. is it the overabundance, the apostrophes, the apostrophe's. I don't remember you like I should, only I could see perfectly in gesticulations, in caricature. this looks french. your beard in your bathroom, in your couch, in your shower making your hair in snakes, your sad mouth, your eyes looking because they do, right. I can answer that question even if we never speak anymore, still. did we argue into the morning? did we disappear into the morning?

tell me I'm right tell me I'm wrong tell me there's nobody else in the world & who could care? longhair, louisville, mymorningjacket is playing on tuesday

how many of us are there? & you do sometimes tell. but it's cryptic, it's deathly, it's in the ground for you already. but I amn't. & I will try to never will be. I will outlast the saddest-most, the fingers-through-my-hair-most. the ones with the eyecontact, the ones with the hands twice as big hands, long & thin ones too. tendrils in humidity. fine in the talking small. & I know not how to hideaway.

poem(s) for a body

from warm snow

I can't keep my hands off a face, hands off a face, from a body,
I will stay here with you, and clutch your body to me every night
But I don't want anything in my body!
I like your body in a bed with me 
the sweet feel of a body beneath tight jeans, fucshia sweater
my hands sliding down a body
I almost never use my body anymore
I would never use a body for sex
at my body
The holding of another body at closest range
too hard on a body,
especially when a body will of course go back and smoke harder and with more intent after.
sweet body
I am tired of this uncertainty about my dying body.
beautiful in Universe hair and torking body
My body is constantly full with the salty fat and sweet things which make it middle-aged.
Body in suffer.

from crepuscular orations

why does my heart explode my body?
my heart acts ravenous in my body.
my body is too old for my mind.
I held and rubbed a naked body and I tried to recount everything I saw and said aloud.
no matter how nice it is to hold a body and look at pretty eyes,
the things one intends through body movement and flickering eyes.
my body steaming.
fires in my body will always burn.
My mind is tired, my body needs more movement...
with all my mind & able body,
do not do any wrong with my body.
Avoiding my mind & body, too.
My body is fading away which is completely unfair.
every second my mouth is on a body,
I watched myself leave my body, my breath was caught.
My body isn't sweating at the moment too terribly,
and how have I barely used my body in days?
My body still smells strongly of summertime,
the body morphing into a filled balloon.
The scent of a body, perfectly soft & real?
Mine own hands on my own body, no...
Body posture indicating a hiding or a withdrawing,
the celebrating coyotes hollering so loudly as I lotioned my fresh body.
My body is like lumps of mashed potatoes.
A body small and smooth and pretty, yes.
A hair-covered body, thin, toothpick legs.
My body quaking, atingle all through...
My body reeling and relaxed, legs out on the porch sofa.
I wish I could lick every inch of your body.
I climb a body, hands across me
with my body, with my life.
Body feels so good with mine, hair in my hand,
a bed, a body, the walls in his room.
There are plenty of sexual bones in my body,
smoothe large body, pretty.
And for body touching.
I do like the idea of hands on my naked body...
I just want your hands & my body.
A body so different.
But I want a cock in my mouth so I creep down a body...
hands on my body...
a large soft body,
a giant body.
A thick smooth body, a face always on the verge of smiling...
what am I doing here, body?
And I couldn't think of anything but my body and the world right there.
I can't have a body on mine.
Get a hard beach body?

from momentos preciosas

How I miss the feel of a body.
I even stretched all my body today
massaging her body,
the human body when it is standing. 
Dreaming is always accompanied by the body's sexual arousal?
When I came my whole body convulsed
between the body and the earth
keep the body separate from nature even in death.

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.