4/9/10

feel like dry earth
like soil stripped of soul
cracked
parched
in warm spring temperatures
and moist cool air
always thirsty

these days
perpetual hangover
had nothing to drink
wake after
three hours of
a cold nights sleep
sweating dreams i
want unremembered

shiver

linger
on latte skin
crawl into my spleen
until my body vibrates
to every synapse that fires
with
in

tried my mind
at tears

can't

a warning

“Ok, there are three things you need to know if you live with me”
He said breaking my serene silence on grandma’s
Musty patio cushions. Fuck. I brace.

1. I will be going for runs everyday
I nod

2. I play a lot of x-box
I shrug

3. I actually do shit.
I laugh

As he exhales the rest of his nerves
He waits for my reciprocation of this courtesy
I respond:

1. Good. Please. You’re getting fat.
“Aw, you should baby if it chills you out”

2. Shit, I forgot. I hate grand theft auto
“It’s ok-we’ll get two tvs”

3. Well aren’t we fucking perfect
“I shit too.”

The Neighborhood

I came because in a blizzard you engulfed me in warmth
I stayed because of the breeze whistling through the cherry blossoms

I came because the sidewalk glitters outside my door
I stayed because of the homeless fiddler who serenades me there at night

I came because for two dollars I could swipe myself to a different world
I stayed because I discovered walking instead

I came to absorb every bit of art my mind could hold
I stayed because my heart is the art

I came to make a career
I stayed because I don’t know which career

While I stand beneath the cascading hints of pink
Above the sparkling sidewalks
By the 1 train station on Broadway
I realize its time for me to go…


christina

A Great Sadness

A pigeon wakes me
on the ledge.
I crawl over to it
and he is startled.
We look each other in the eyes.
His grey, grey eyes,
blue feathers flashing.
I step off the bed.

The apartment smells like we first moved in,
like warm weather, like the sick sweetness
of vanilla air fresheners
had sunk into the wood
and needed the doors to expand.

I want to wash the wax feeling
from my feet, the black flower spreading,
a lucky penny taped in the dark,
in the closet,
a cork jammed onto a nail.

I turn the fan on
and sketches of nude strangers
scrape along the walls.
I get back in bed.
That afternoon I sweat in my sleep,
I dream of drinking the wine from your body.

Edward's Parade

Red and striped,
infinite circles,
leopard dots,
rising into one mistake.

I wish sunburn
was a story,
a skipped class,
a fucked libido,
a spine of white powder.

Branded cows
can't lie in pounds
or dehydration
or their tightest leather memory.

But lying out here,
barely dressed
a football
crawls to my side
and I appear undaunted.

A sleeping beauty
to the outside convex,
a battered sister on the inside.
That football has been pounding
for years.

For weight,
for dead legs,
for stolen credit cards,
for jail nights on my birthday,
when does home become Penn Station?
Pick pocketed by trust.

Burns are the first scar,
but sometimes lie,
I put sunscreen on
and still get fried.

Day 4, Poem 4: Tongue and Teeth (Working title)

My body remembers
our last conversation
always returning
to all our conversations...
Your syllables caress my being
whole
At rest, I drift back to these
safe harbors
of vocabulary
alliteration
and a seduction
of syntax
I fell in love with your sentence structure
and then you
and you knew...
And still
I can be comforted
by your dialect
calm in its knowing
wrapping itself
around my brain
warming my soul
lulling me into contentedness
like crystal Ocean waves
rushing and receding
making my breath light
younger
peaks cut mouth's corners
moonlight in eyes
twinkling with mischief
and appreciation
For if any so-called
creature comforts do exist
surely this
the pleasure of your company
these conversations
are one
and then
so are we

Veritas

I thought it odd

he asked me.

Why I got my tattoo.

Truth? I asked.

Isn’t it what we all strive to?