Friday, December 5, 2014

Damn It, Margaret

All it takes is one ungraceful move, in reaction to meeting a new beautiful man, who has stumbled into your life, and you’re back there again. Back to your teenage girl hysterics, back to him. And it’s not his deep green stare you remember. It’s Jackson’s pathetically unsymmetrical nose your mind desperately tries recalling.
He was the ultimate dream to just about any other seventeen year old. The kind of guy that just doesn't know what he has is everything the opposite sex wants. The kind of guy who may try to sneak into class unnoticed, trying not make a fuss, but manages to bump you on the way to his seat. It’s the innocent clumsy collision that has somehow pulled you out of childhood stupor and awakens the knot in your stomach, the deep felt longing to be held by someone of utmost attractiveness; he and his seemingly simple bump have managed to pull your subconscious desire to be in perfect unison with one other person to the very surface of your skin. He has to be able to see it on the fronts of your teeth, which you now foolishly show off in a frightening toothy grin.
“I’m sorry, Margaret,” and for the first time, as he lightly rubs where his well proportioned arm crashed into your knobby elbow, you swear you feel your atoms cry, eureka! before setting themselves on fire.
Somehow, completely unknown as to why, he’s asked you out. Every day this perfect creature waits for you outside of your class for homeroom to be over, for lunch to start, to offer you a ride. But instead of calling your friends to tell them what it was like to be kissed or be truly important to someone else, someone hot!, you play a comparison game.
Jackson is tall. He walks with his shoulders pushed back and his long neck carries his baby face like it’s made of helium, but just the right amount. Not like there’s so much he’s going to float up in that arrogant way. He smiles as if saying, I’m here and I may or may not be extremely handsome.
You walk in like a balloon that has almost been entirely let out of air. It’s a miracle you’re here at all. But you don’t see things like that so you walk in with shoulders slouched and your belly out. You see yourself choosing over-sized sweatshirts because there is nothing for anyone to look at anyway. You keep your head low and avoid looking anyone in the eye in fear the blotches of red tinged freckles scaring all away.
“I love you, Margaret,” he says.
For a second you feel your soul buzzing electricity, but it stops and you hear yourself ask, “Are you sure?”
For weeks this goes on. I-love-yous and no-you-don'ts. Jackson’s words are relentless but you just can’t find a logical way to explain them. But then something changes. Now you are thirty-two and can’t remember what exactly happened, but it was just one glance gone wrong. That’s all it took and you realized you and Jackson were square even.
You may or not have been walking toward the laundromat because one of your mothers had told you to, or perhaps it was on the way out of a gas station, but it happened. That beautiful person tripped on a hardly visible ledge and one second later that baby face met pavement and pavement met tiny streams of blood.
He didn't miss one day of school, though, like you thought any rational self-conscious teenager would. But he was never like that, even after breaking his nose.
When it finally healed it was better than new. It was crooked. When he smiled there was a new awkward charm to it. When he was serious it was almost silly. So when he walked with shoulders back, long graceful neck, baby face proudly held high, ridiculously bent nose and all, and said:
“Damn it, I love you, Margaret.”
You just let out a laugh. Because you finally saw how this could be.

Friday, October 24, 2014

You Took The Place of Stars

Two bodies with a pull unknown to nature
The lover and the loved lie between the whole of the world
Take up the whole of the world;
Divide the  whole of life between his blanketed caress
And her yielding body -
I laid  myself down to be held by you

With only two bodies, of the lover and the loved
The sunlight stays locked from passing shadows
It is simply he and her rooting into earth
Blossoming greater than memories of flowers in Spring
And as with shunning sunlight, he fenced the stars from view -
But you took the place of stars

The days have passed, their world has turned to new day
What she thought were eternal tree trunks roots
Did become loose by nothing more than his driftless wind
She stands alone at the edge of what is true ground
And has felt sunlight passing skin, radiating shadows -
I once saw you as every little thing

Sunday, September 21, 2014


Monday, June 23, 2014

Children in Crashing Manic Waves

Coffee cups--don't only show up
Stacked across kitchen countertops
The purest emotion from a writer
Reveals yellow stained happiness

Whiskey, cigarettes, thousand page novels
One classical song leaving footprints
On all corners of the author's mind
A dust trail border-lining passion and obsession

Some say routine, some say compulsions
Other's, you're wrecking your life with all these
Falling in and out of heavy loves
But. . .

We swim like children in crashing manic waves
Allow ourselves to sink to the bottomless ocean of lows
And fall in love so quick the heart has to heal
Before the first kiss is given to us by soul's desire

We ride the currents of high unfiltered sweet true love

Maybe there is something to this
To allow yourself to become so consumed by
The things--the people--you absolutely love
Even if it breaks you or leaves you with a yellow smile

At least you were really alive
And felt nothing but a joy that
Had to be had until
There was no more left of it

We ride the currents of high unfiltered sweet true love

Saturday, November 23, 2013

A Room That I Keep

Buried  beneath six years history
Between years of inconsistency and misery--
The first time I ever felt I really existed
In someone else’s eyes--
Is a room that I keep,
You must have helped build my walls
Because your fingerprints
Still mark the insides

And when I whisper,
“One day I’ll love again,”
It’s your name seen leaving my lips
Like winter day breaths,
I confess you every time
My stupid lonely mouth has to undress.

It is a somewhere, hidden in the back of my stare
But I have to bury it so deep down
Because no matter where it’s around
My ceiling has leaks that fall upwards
And you’re spilling out from me.
So meanwhile I’ll weigh out my smiles
And maybe one day they’ll be heavy enough
To hush you asleep--in my room that I keep

like you never existed
like you never had a thing to do with me
like I never loved you
like every single time I awake
it’s not you I just achingly dreamt of
and I really wish that were true
because you do not stop invading me
even in spaces not meant for you
so just please stay in the place I left you
So that I can just leave you.

There is a room that I keep 

That not even I can put to sleep.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

One poem a day until May.

Here is a poem on the top of my head. I listened to "Snow & Taxis" by Gold Panda while I wrote it. Lately I have just been typing anything that comes to my head and keeping it. I'm not very proud of that, but I have a few other priorities restraining my time. Enjoy.

Sometimes It Is Alright

There is a constant beat
Of maddening pulse
Hypnotizing rhythm
Keeping my feeble, sickly bones

There are words
That don’t need to be said
To tell me how to move.
The person inside me
Does not always need to think.

It is alright
To believe in nothing.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Written as it comes. Unedited. Untitled.

You have to tell me to leave you
I would love you to say leave me
or love me
Because there’s nothing more that I want
but to be with you
and watch your movements
in silent black and white movies.
Your classic furrow
and moody flickering candle-light eyes
movements you make in bed
where I’ve been like a tourist
visiting the place I thought I’d never make it to.
I can’t forget I can be called yours.
Between states of grief and melancholy
my mind, an all knowing mother,
gives me you again
between pale sheets and moonlight and shadows;
a monochrome dream
with small parted lips beneath me
and I, finally, becoming your first thought.
The full focus you have always been to me.

You need to tell me to leave you
even though you’re never around to
be left from.
You need to hurt me and leave me for dead
and then hurt me all over again
so that maybe I can go.
Give me a fair shot otherwise
I’ll never be happy again.
Unless I see you again.
I’ll never be happy again.

You know it’s what I do best.
To tell you I love you
without ever saying a word.
And you stand there
and you watch the unborn words
trapped inside try to reach you
but the look you wear
is all the God forsaken words need
to stop and nestle further inside.
And I will always hear them reminding me
what you mean to me
what you mean to me
and the burden will never be yours
but you'll stare with a tortured stare
that I know too well.