if bracing yourself

softened the smash,

i would tell you to do that.

but you have to dive into the crash.

has the moon been full for a month?

have i gotten over anything ever?

are these questions or statements?

THE MOON HAS BEEN FULL

FOR A MONTH

i am not over anything. never.

i declare my declarations

i'm unprepared to offer

anymore information

but i do

do i?

i do

i do

i did and i will

i can and i still...

Wedding Cake

i walked to you

on younger legs

long for short

my heart- hoped for everyone.

i was cream

light for heavy

i spilled for anyone

but spoiled

and oh october eyes

attached and disfigured

melting at the hip

the years like one tornado

this connection was beyond

us and always

just as it was broken

your tears were

my body of water

and i was yours.

wedding cake.

have you ever been on an airplane in a half nap.. all sleepy and stupid, staring blankly at the back of the seat in front of you and you might just as well be in a waiting room at the dentist rather than one of 200 bodies smashed into this noisy jet when suddenly you remember that you are actually just a one hundred pound very breakable human, being flown through the clouds at hundreds of miles an hour, in a pretty heavy metal box that only stays up based on a limited amount of fuel that keeps ... shit i have no idea how it stays up ...

here! the Physics Factbook says it better...

All four models uses the jet engine which operates on the principle of Newton's third law of motion, which states that for every action, there is an opposite but equal reaction. A jet sucks air into the front, squeezes the air by pulling it through a series of spinning compressors, mixes it with fuel, and ignites the fuel, which then explodes rearward with great force out through the exhaust nozzle. This great rearward force is balanced with an equal force that pushes the jet engine, and the airplane attached to it, forward. Thrust is the force that propels an airplane forward through the air. It is provided by the airplane's propulsion system in this case by a jet engine.

that's how i feel right now. like i just realized how fast we're going. and how high up we are.

we are so difficult

you and i.

the boy and girl of us

all mixed up.

i get mad and old

i try to run

your hand holds mine

loosely

but faithfully

loyalty being everything to me.

and one of your

distinguishing qualities.

but who is where

is what is how?

and when are you coming over?

i want you here now

today was one of those days that i could not manage much more than throwing one blind foot in front of the other. i bumped into things. i said yes when i meant no. i forgot whole sentences just two seconds after speaking them. i cried when i pulled back the plastic curtain after a steamy shower and cold air conditioning pulled the warm envelope from my naked body. everything changes like that. you wake up sleeping. you fall asleep awake. there is no safe place between the states. no period to prepare you. no little room to rest.. a soft bench and a soft drink. there's just insomnia and your deep dreams. light and dark. dawn is a trick.

Healing.

i started to heal the moment i realized i was lost.

i woke up. i opened my eyes and looked around. i had no idea where i was. i was hungry. and wet. my back was broken. my shoes were useless, my clothes too heavy. i spun in slow circles, surveying the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded me until i saw what i thought might be a light. it was very far away but looked possible to get to.. maybe it was a house, i thought. maybe they had food they would share, a bed, a shower. i felt a survival instinct like i'd never felt before. it flooded my whole being and i began to move forward. at first i moved very slowly. and backwards. i hit many things because i refused to turn ahead. i had convinced myself that if i lost track of where i had been i would never know where i was going, that i would never be able to get back there. so i moved forward at the slowest pace and kept my eyes steadfast on what was behind me. only briefly turning to make sure that i was still headed towards the faded and far off light.

i didn't seem to be on a path. i tripped over rocks and slipped into ditches. once, i even tumbled and fell to the ground so hard that i wasn't sure if i could continue. but i got up, injured. it wasn't long before i began to fear that the light would not be there when i turned around so i took to facing forward in the direction that i was actually moving, for at least a little bit. i traded off this way for awhile, calming myself with the security of seeing where i had been and also knowing where i was going. the light in front of me seemed to be getting closer. it was definitely getting brighter. a moon-like yellow. i became attached to that light and my backwards walks became shorter and shorter as i missed that sweet and calming light when i couldn't see it. it became easier to not look back and a couple of times when i turned i could just barely see where i had been. i paniced at first but then my need to get to the light turned me back around.

soon, where i had been was further away then the light ahead. and that light was getting close enough to be lighting the path ahead of me. what had once been rocky and black and blind.. shadows, was now a muted morning.. the very slight beginnings of dawn. and that dawn was a gentle warmth. my clothes were drying and softening and i could see almost clearly where i was going. it was an actual wide and marked path.. there were arrows and signs and even rest stops. wonderful places i could stop for a night or two and rest as i stayed on this path that was leading me to my bright destination.

I am writing this from one of those rest stops. they have taken me in for the night. or for however long i need to stay. all of the windows in this small room face the direction i have been traveling towards. light floods in through them letting me know that it is still there and that everything is exactly as it should be.

and i have begun to trust the light.

just got Mary Robinson's book of photographs in the mail.  her photography touches me...  it is haunting and lovely and has a stillness that is moving.  and she's only 17! 

i admire this young woman.

 

her blog: http://maryvrobinson.blogspot.com

Make believe stars

i remember when you were human

a song

i sung often.

when you were possibility

you arrived

in the shape of a gift

and introduced yourself to me.

and we kissed.

now i kiss

monkey wrenches

where your lips would be.

make believe stars

are out in the trash

behind a trashed painting.

and the cheap smell

of cheap leather,

is this poor condition.

hate like none other

none. ever.

blind pain.

how you made me suffer

a pony pendulum

between my breasts

it was never yours

never. ever.

ponies are mine.

Grown ups are strangers i know

the scratch that tells you how tall you were

when the kitchen was clean and smelled like pot roast

when squeezed grapefruit halves are at the top of the full garbage

and papa's shorts are drying in a cool twilight

above the stone bird bath.

and my grandmother is putting the candy where we can reach it

and i can't decide what to play with..

the orange teddy bear we all share

or the keys that i imagine will unlock a secret room.

when i hear the name josephine 

when i hear the name ann

when i hear the name dennis

and margaret

grown ups are strangers i know

Guts

lying is psychological abuse. it robs you of a security that we all deserve. it steals your basic right to make decisions based on the simple truth. when a person lies to you consistently, it changes who you are.. it kills the innocent trust in yourself that we are all born with. and, of course, if you can't trust yourself how can you ever trust another?

over the last year and a half i have learned more about lying than i ever could have planned on. and the wreckage has been extremely difficult to dig through. but i am beginning to trust others again and more importantly i am learning to trust my own gut. again.

bright sun is filling up saturday.

the house is messy and muddy.

it rained all week. 

  you rode here on your new bike 

  and tracked mud through the house.

it made me so happy.

up to something. obviously.

no good.

my heart does not recognize you anymore.

loveless.

is this being over it?

he says,

"those shoes make me

want to marry you."

he's a keeper.

something about tonight was perfect.  it started with the unicorn twilight raspberry sherbet sky.  it was ridiculous.  then Wilco's smile all the time came on the car stereo.  that's the moment i realized that something about tonight was perfect.  

i was driving east on fifth st. and trying to take a picture of the dropping pink horizon's reflection in my Frost building.  Half of it was the color of melted rhubarb and the other half was a gothic steel grey.  that's like my personality, i thought.  i was giggling as i snapped the photograph while rolling a reckless five miles an hour towards the stopped suburban just ahead of me at a red light.  i really wanted that picture.  but the picture i didn't get was even better.  

sometimes the thing that fits in the place we were trying to squeeze the thing that we didn't get can be so freaking beautiful. 

latte art.  abstract.

his eyes are a challenge

not to look at

they are film and stars

they switch

they flip me out

dark blue eyes. 

bitten.  touched.  blackened.

and they hold me.  

both eyes are honest

they get angry

they cry

they are a moon

eclipsed sometimes

by dark blue sky.

they also have the most beautiful smile.