Mighty Mississip'

There was no rain
Only whispers
The curtains were drawn
There were no outsiders
Night’s cape lingered
Long after St. Louis’ noon chime

We waited so patiently
For that first day to dawn
Plans and anticipations
Culminating on embrace
Then impatience growing
Until we could not escape

In a bright sunlit room
We made our chamber
Exclusive, intimate
And completely ours
Falling down together
We knew no boundaries

At night we found adventures
And in day hours we played
Never farther than arms length
Were we ever apart
Eat, drink and be merry
Was only the most simple start.

What we planted on the bank
Of the mighty Mississip'
Traveled west and north
Growing and gaining strength
And will stay as long as the river
Needs a place to meet the sea.

helpful words

For Kimberly and anyone else who needs to hear it!

break up
break down
drink up
fool around.

baby baby

Oh baby, baby please tell me its not just pillow talk.

grant me this

grant me this
a half and half sky
green on the bottom
blue on top
rows of the brownest dirt
saturated with the water
only found near the marsh
bayou winding nearby
peaceful not moving any
faster than we do ourselves

grant me this
a front porch
white washed
ceiling fan and a swing
the only movement
aside from the breeze
breathing not blowing
sun baking our skin
already brown from planting
hands for holding
callused and strong

grant me this
laughter in tiny
helpers more
agile than ourselves
more hopeful of beans
planted in less than perfect soil
overalls permanently stained
hands smooth yet
legs strong from running
not a fence in sight
that they can't go through
because it is all theirs
as it is ours that we've made.

grant me this
friends for our tiny friends
curly tails, red beaks,
panting tongues, spotted hides,
galloping hard hoofs,
all of this for them and us
the process of life there in front
of them to see, know, hold past us
we teach them the ways
we show them how
they find adventure
all around them

grant me this
sunday dinner
sun high, tablecloth blowing
laundry done and hung
whipping in the wind breath
dishes and dishes
fruit of the week
our moms and dads over
to see the tiny ones
laughter and "again! again!"
shouted as paw paw
picks them up
by the overall straps again.

grant me this
you and me
sitting together
on that swing
you hung just for me
on the tree
planted long before
to remind us
we are as strong
as the time we spend together
the tree enveloping us
solace in feeling time's strength
on those burly oak branches
holding us securely
rocking back and forth.

fear me not.

fear me not, i am not yours.
i cannot move mountains
or even open doors

i shant leave you in the rain
or at the very least
call out to you in shame.

i will not track you down
call your mother
then tell her what I've found.

i know a lot less than you think i do
and that is just the start
never not ever could i ever break your heart.

the darkness

Your darkness makes me want to crawl up inside of you and sleep peacefully because I know your darkness and it makes me feel safest and warmest and best in love.

and i'll seek that darkness and hollow a nest for my weary head and tiny hands and you can join me in the darkness when you're ready. I'll leave my light out for you to find your way.

night stand littering

Darling, I gave you my library information so that you could go in and leave me presents to pick up at the library when they're ready. you no doubt poked around at my checked out selections. And now you know what my night stand looks like. Littered with those items, old coffee cups and letters I haven't yet sent to you, darling.

the truth...

Truth be known. I don't feel like writing. I don't feel like drinking. I don't feel like going out at all. I don't feel like talking. I feel like reading. Napping. Staring at my ceiling, and then repeat it all over again. I feel the curve of the earth and I feel a fear of slipping right off of it's round surface and floating into a gelatinous space where I am weightless and truly alone.

Look Out Sister, Look Out!

I heard this on the radio today and I kept a smile on my face the whole time...

Feeble Fiction

Nothing about you looks familiar
you smell different than all the others
your hair is tousled in a way I don't know
the tiny black hairs growing out of your face
are forming a pattern foreign.
you asked me for a spoon to stir your coffee.
none of this actually happened.
I make it up to make me feel better
feeble fiction.

wherever you're going

wherever you're going
you're going my way
all i needed were the right words
to know what I should say
alone in the quiet they come forward
when nothing can get in my way
where even you don't exist
and I can get you out of my memory
at least for a little bit.

here i am as home as I can be...

 

snacking on puppies while they're dreaming

last night I had a series of the most unusual dreams.

I dreamed that I met a girl who was absolutely obsessed with the year 1992. She dressed the part, talked of the movies like new releases. When I was hearing all about some movie called, "Love", we were playing hopscotch in a gymnasium. I asked her what she liked about 1992, and she quickly responded, "I was 8 years old". and that was that, and I knew what she meant.

Many Rooms of Waiting

waiting with the other hopefuls of a chance
they take me in room by room
each option flawed
some rooms I dwell longer than the others
if the scent moves me, i stay
the scent above everything has to be right.
i turn my little nose up at those subpar.
in some rooms i dance
in others i stand perfectly still like a doll
in some i drink and shout above loud music
in even more still, i talk politics and sexual liberation
in my favorites, i go on and on about family and home
in private, dimly lit rooms I admit future planned delight for children
only in the most inviting do i bring up the past, and only when prompted
in none of them do I forget I am a lady
though the ones with drinking are more crass than the rest
i'm consistently sharp tongued, unless my interviewer is an idiot
i dont want to be intimidating in these tiny stalls for decisions
i exhaust my charmes, wiles and wit on each and every worthy chap
for there are never ladies in these rooms, which mama should be proud
and daddy would likely only have an approval rating of less than 5%
for sure there are rooms that will always remain in the back
and on the door of every now locked chamber, notes, prose, scribbled
in ink, mascara, tomato sauce, blood, lipstick or marker
notes of what's inside, what to take away, what to leave, and similarities
my candle has not faltered and i will carry on this exercise until i am free
free of rooms, decisions, hopeful first meetings and awkward glances.
someday. someday. someday. a room will forever remain unlocked without any notes provided. someday. someday. someday.

How did you find me?

how did you find me in this swanky place
did you check your pride at the door/
a faint smell of shame overpowers the smoke
shining bright teeth compared to your yellow ones
a gift you've bestowed is heavy and invisible
cursing and drunk i show you the door
reminding you of why you wanted out before
i'm cold, unresponsive and a perfect pupil
of what you teach to everyone who loves you
dont turn your head to look at me
you aren't the worthy one who sings of such things
i take out out by your collar and release you to the past
nothing can allow you back here. not even love.

Things I'm grateful for after a perfect day

things im grateful for after this perfect day

Teresa for lending me the jetta
Rebecca for being such good company
finding my first whole sand dollar
finding my second whole sand dollar
the beach
having the entire beach to ourselves, for as far as we could see.
sunshine
the rainbow that formed a complete arch over each side of us. we could see where each end touched the earth.
the modest vintage bathing suit for $3 for me and the buy one get one free dress for Rebecca.
the full moon over pink clouds on the last leg of our trip.

whips

his suits were gorgeous and tailor made to fit him.
such a talented tailor who could measure so much nothingness.

I thought you were so important
what I came to know was that you were so much less than I had thought

when i see you next i'll be sure to wear my glasses
the darkest shade so that I may very well not see you at all.

my old apartment could not be kept neat and tidy
my new apartment has much more storage places for hiding

i like eggs and grits and when i'm out of either I just have coffee
so I can rightfully be cranky all day long.

stumble

I stumbled on you, near you, to you, at you, about you, for you, by you, like you, toward you, beneath you, against you, beside you, over you, through you, above you, into you, outside you, inside you, below you, beyond you, around you, before you, against you, across you, during you, along you, within you, among you, behind you, with you, upon you, and from you.

but I only stumble after you without you despite you.

the fog

Every light shining in the fog is a missed opportunity to see you. Bring you into the light even in passing. To see your face up close without your permission for once. Where I can happenstance upon you and enjoy the radiance not of you but of what you represent to me.

update

1.16.9

I never feel scared until something happens so suddenly that it violently jerks me back into the urbanscape that I've put myself into without its due precautions. Like tonite. I was only walking home through NW. Between the shiny bright new pearl and the safe neighborly 23rd area where I live is a small industrial area near the 405. As I passed the old meier and frank building a man ran straight for me. He looked bewildered. My immediate instinct was to get out of his way. I kept watching him as he ran straight past me and after I realized he was just running to catch the bus, I calmed down. But still kept turning around to look at him.

1.12.9

i've been neglecting my lover
I've been cruel, distant
unthankful
i've been unfaithful
like I haven't moved on
i've been telling my lover about my love
i've been revealing that my affection is shared
and how does my lover react?
steady, calm, accepting, no matter what.
this lover, my city, has been good to me.
i'm doing a job that i love, with people i love,
i have friends here that have been some of the best in my life
the experience here is unseen as of yet in my short life
and i know that in 20 years i'll look back on this time with my lover, Portland
as amazing, full of life, the best years.
men come and go, just as my favorite cocktail keeps changing
i'll always love my hats, fried food, and New Orleans
but I've embraced the rain, clean air and yes, even hipsters.
the local color like chocolates on my birthday.
its time i stopped fooling around and allow myself to fall in love with this place
embrace it as my new home that has been so good to me in the past
it has unrelentingly given and given and given to me without a single thought of reciprocity.
this is of course better than any of my relationships with the opposite sex.
the truth is i spend more time alone with my city than i'm willing to spend with any male or friend, for that matter.
so i am exclusive. with the whole damn place.
its cafes, parks, streets, sidewalks, bars, restaurants and weirdness.
the familiarity isn't scaring me like as if it belonged to a man,
i thrive in confidence when a japanese tourist asks me where Tiffany's is, and I can tell her with absolute knowledge.
Yes, I am going to fall in love with my lover.
baby steps. one step at a time. next step, maybe a man.

1.11.9

Is it always the pathetic ones that fall in love?
The ones who need someone, something.
Like if Bob Dylan and Sylvia Plath had been in love.
A union of common need.
Is my feeling of invasion a sign of being unsound?
Or too sound?