velma

I love this name
it's like velvet
it's like crushing old
it's so labial
elllmmm
elllmmmm
it is my mother's mother's name
it's Kyle's mother's mother's name, too
it's the answer to some official security question we have in common
I never met her, Velma Sullivan
she died in her early 40s of lung cancer
my uncle had just joined the mormon church
& he wanted to convert her
in her dying hospitalroom
which pissed her off
and it pissed my mom off, too
my uncle's wife and some of his daughters just recently left the church
the wife left her husband
and probably some of her family, too
which probably fucked up the family band they all played in
no more angelic female vocals
no more angelic female fluting
all that's left is an acoustic guitar and some manly drumming, I'd guess
I don't know if Kyle knows his Velma
but I'm jealous, if he does
but I guess we'll probably have a daughter one day
and we'll name her after them

I almost got lsst

I am in this sunny room in idaho where the sky doesn't change from perfect at all. When the sun sets a change happens, but within only bounds of perfect. I like it here. ida likes it here, her namesake place. I like this song called "my heart" by a band called wildbirds & peacedrums. in bed i sit, and here I am waiting with henna in my hair. I recently got my period, and am subsequently writing my first novel about womanhood.

This whole thing has a purpose, I felt it before. I felt it this time, too, after coming over the blue mountains. It must have been near north powder, and those were the little alps, all silhouetted with the sun still bright over the edges. undeniably alplike. I am writing this because Once, during summertime I was on the same drive, eastbound to idaho, and there to my right in a beautiful lush field of peagreen were two lounging llamas. And they dazedly, dreamily, admired a flapping butterfly above and around them... I couldn't see their eyes but I can only imagine the heavy lift of a lid, the twitch of an ear, the peaceful admiration.

I saw them this time, coming on dusk, but this place hasn't a dusk, or a twilight. I wanted it to be, but in the little alps the bright sun creeps behind a jagged peak, still leaking bright, until finally the sky explodes into every texture imaginable; purple lace lining vermilion velvet, soft pink silk and chiffon folding itself endlessly into unimaginable blue, neon flesh.

ant, the velvet words

It was just the words come in me, those to make seen the real simple of a night. The common scent of flowers on the night breeze of a week-end, the ones smelling like butter or honey. Different bee breeds hover from these flowers & in again at daytime. The crickets, common sound of august, or maybe in oregon frogsounds are commonest. I'd like a test to differentiate. a frog whisper in one ear and the rustle of cricket wing violined against cricket wing; stridulating forgets the hot of a night. Spiders in stridulation, the velvet ant...

events of hours hoped or wished down

pretty little, 53 to 55


The events of hours: by tomorrow I am chiaroscuro. I am whimpering, almost, with the night now and still, once again, of light and shade I'm made. I think as usual, hiding in time, an affect of silence.

Consistently a chicago coffeeshop, it’s contrasted light and moderately I attempt to hardly be here at all. Just a beautiful shadow created by furnished apartment. Choke back in the unnoticed French light falling unevenly. Preparing tears a mind never blue from two; I produce a clear cherubic direction. That adjoining abruptly, the life of me, all throwing soft light in. Seeing, difficult & dry. I’d like to wake on the table, leaving love hard and saying, knowing, thinking, goodbye at the rest of a room.

A dance around things, an epic poem, the East in chiaroscuro. To prepare then. Somehow, take me for some marked action mythology; have you found humor to recommend me? might a fire you are looking for?

Black must do to be breathing around. Velvet forms a part of female singing. I try singing it too, for me to keep most interested. The head knows all the words, I loudly need the feel. I never hoped or wished down.