Followers

Friday, January 28, 2011

"rumi" i murmur

"Rumi" i murmur,
"I've been speaking to the dead,
in silence with clipped wings.

"Over the next 8 months,
we will (with and
without, intent)
starve our emotions
just to remain
in these vows of silence..."

FIRST VOW: ALL HART, AND NO HATE

We will put out our candles
and sing to the night sky,
without mouths,
but with pouring open eyes,
and embraces, warm
under the summer moonlight.

I will remember you
in the hurry
that I loved you,
and the fury,
that we lost you.

But the lush beauty you left
to stow away in our hearts
we hold tonight in our hands-
captive, though unwilling to escape.

We are thankful for this moment
that you have left in our hearts-
that we can share it with you still.

SECOND VOW: TO PRAISE, WITH INABILITY TO FORGET

For you, i will cover
such grave decisions
with a single agate.

It's millions of years
ought to put enough space
between us
that memory
could short change the anger
of your early dismissal

(call it jealousy).

There is a beauty
that you could never
have vanquished,
nor outran.

It is now the hues
of the morning sky;
the heat
of the afternoon sun;
the scent of evening rain;

and the midnight sauntering
of hands,
reaching for each other;
washing each other;
all ways wishing,
for each other.

Wanting to remember.
To never forget.
To know,
and have known.

In these memories of want,
and ware,
whet with emotion,
I do embrace you, thankful
for the time that we shared.

THIRD VOW: TO SHARE THE WISDOM, WITHIN OUR TEETH

For your memory
we will not silence lips,
or tongue,
nor tooth and nail.

For you, we will diminish
our inability to forget.

We will stand together
and clap our hands
at the night sky,
until it blossoms
like a nuclear sunrise.
Exposing us,
finally naked to the new day.

We will shout out the lights
upon this vibrant arrival,
having been readying all night
for the battle of daybreak to begin.

We will not sleep.

For you -and now everyone,
We will celebrate
without shame,
or silence,
but with voice,
and volume.
So that no one
will have to stand alone
in the dark

__________________________________________________________

FIRST VOW: on june 26th, 2009, my friend chelsea hart died in an electrical fire in her apartment. she had been thrust into my life, as well as the lives of my friends and then taken from us, with a speed and fury that haunts me to this day. i will not forget her.

SECOND VOW: on september 8th, 2009, my secret crush and close friend sena hanson was shot to death in her home by her husband john downing. this is a loss that i can not speak on. i have no words for it. sena, is arabic for "to praise".

THIRD VOW: on february 1st, 2010, my very good, and very close friend jessica moeller died of a drug overdose. she struggled with those needles for a long time. and i miss her every day. i will be tattooing a wisdom tooth on myself as well as 4 others in her memory.

but this poem is about more than just them. i lost a lot (people and things) over the years. in these losses, i have not been able to recover. i struggle with it every day, and sometimes i see tangible progress, other days i only witness psychological/spiritual chaos. i wrote this as a means to remind me that i am moving forward. that i have too many friends that are worth my efforts to stay alive, stay supportive, and to stay honest with myself as well as others. chelsea was one of the single most loving people i have ever encountered. she truly loved everyone. and she loved me. and that makes it easier for me to deal with her death. sena was a friend from way back in the day. as beautiful as the sun is bright. i miss her so much. god how she loved the madness. hell hath no fury like sena hanson. and jessica, how the fuck could someone so intelligent, so far from the average bear, do something so stupid? i know the answer. i just don't want to hear it out loud.

it means a lot to me that anyone reads any of this shit. it really does play a large role in my ability to remain sane.

this piece was originally written june 19th, 2010.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

dry ice

i let you
cover my tracks
by shadowing me
home.

where we could fill in
all the graves
with periodic
advances

and nonchalant
recalculations-

invisible,
became the eye
of the storm.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

three bar napkins

WILT

in the last of all
their will-they say-
              will break.
the bloodied and bruised
will fall, cross-eyed
               and capsized, following
               the worth,
                              of any man's guess.
i suppose, i should leave.
something i could have done
years ago. but i waited.
baited, but fading nonetheless.

my breath, wades in it all
                 -and after all-
      they're only thoughts,

               a place to stay.
_________________________________________________________

TRINITY

ice melts in the aftermath

a stuttering vision
         of fidgeting
and wishing
       (in one hand),
and wanting
       (in the other),
and the emptiness
        (in between).
_________________________________________________

THE DEATH OF A PICK-UP LINE

stolen, and
just as sentimental
   my fingers bend,
      and crease
   the envelope
sloped,
and sloppy
from use-

       "if i were you,
       you'd be me."

Monday, January 24, 2011

the parameters of inclusion

so insistent...

it's such a contribution,
how to reconcile
-the what and the why
to reconsider-

when the rain falls
like blemishing
without blood,
or bleeding
without blush.

where every new hand
builds faster than the first one,
just like every new syllable
brings every sentence
closer to the edge of the page,
only to start over
closer now
to the bottom.

like standing on death row
waiting -longing- for a seat,
or laughing into our hands
when and where
we're too scared to look.

it's not without knowing.
not without the flood.
the fall.
the faults
and factory lines.

questionable, yes.
but emphasis is unnecessary
when forced to acknowledge
every option- yet remaining,
once it begins getting cold
outside.

Friday, January 21, 2011

staples.

there are some 'things'
that nothing
-and nothing, alone-
can out race
(reside).

something 'fantasy'
(eclipse)
-whether pleasure or pain-
(collapse)
can never prepare [you]
-with or without- for.

in fact,
something like the color
of waking up
-or walking in-

some where
you don't live-

some place
-a place that otherwise-
you might have stopped
to rest.