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Friday, February 7
you are all prodigies. i love it!
i wrote this poem a while ago, and although i already posted part three here, i wanted to post the entire thing. it's about a weekend- part one, on friday, i went to agusta. part two, on saturday, i went to rocky horror. part three, on sunday, i sat in my green room alone.
weekend
i.
she downed the shot,
the girl slapping her wrist.
her house cracked, the dark air receeded
we lay under falsetto wooden
skies and glow stars
with the piano practicing itself, our
laughter, raining pastelles.
she turned upside down and
backwards, the u shapes of
our smiles. my closed hands,
like a chest, beating.
you were gray
i carried your heart in
hands that looked like yours
the strings of light curved
with the road
during the sweeping
nobody could stop us of trace us
our laughter receeded
through the wooded cieling,
and did we have any worries,
setting ourselves up for some
unlikely metaphor.
ii.
this house is breathless.
the furnace kicks on.
with lashes batting clean the
windshield, he
wrote his number on the
snowcaked pane. the stage
throbbed, my tires slid, my
throat cracked while
her blue teeth, smiling,
red bra white skin, charmed him, while
the other women cackled.
it's 3:33, make a wish
he picked up the checks
it's 4:44, my door slams softly
only one set of tire
tracks marked the night road, and
a line of white footseps, faintly
my heart beating faster,
steadily like falling wind. she flounced
her thin arms, he had little italians and
chinese water. my eyes peeled,
instinctively prayed
the wind laced like fishenet
somewhere inside of me
winter began to build
like electricity, on small roads
like crows in november.
iii.
this last evening is not over yet
ringing phone calls my name,
prophecy.
the dimpled corners of my
cieling smile.
i am living in the mouth
tastes thick like old milk
but my eyes and skin feel cerulean
supple sweet and honey
lemon, with hands clasped.
i bent the page corner.
the coughing echoed.
a car drove by,
crunched onward. the tea smells
like fresh flowers from a distant city
and somewhere inside
i dreamed you caught me
in a net, like a moth.
my throat wont sing when i
yawn. you are a sea green wall,
all i want to do is sink
goldenly with you.
before the western metaphors,
dissapearing.
speechless. athiest. godsent.
Giorgie 7:14:00 PM
Wednesday, February 5
nothing new; it's all old. coz we're uninspired. dug through the folder and that's the best of what i found.
Maria 11:47:00 PM
119.
after a drive up to greenville to take pictures
i leaned against an oak tree
and smiled at the blue sky
and remarked on the smokelike clouds
and smelled wood stoves burning
in a city of trees.
i slid down the trunk and kneeled on the moss.
not knowing that under the same blue sky
cloudlike smoke was billowing out of buildings
as they fell to their knees
with no moss to cushion them
in the wilderness of the deep forest of sky scrapers.
Maria 11:46:00 PM
teen movies made it seem so easy.
declarations of unrequited love
that were returned by nights
of passion.
teen movies made it seem so easy.
i told him that i loved him.
he ran away.
i didn't speak to him for two years.
teen movies made it burn like kindling.
Maria 11:45:00 PM
dressed like that.
where are you going tonite, dressed like that?
out to save the world in your red and blue spandex with my red towel tied around your neck.
i laughed and told you to wear a jacket;
even super heroes can catch pneumonia.
not me, you snigger, for i am anti-pneumonia boy.
and frolicked out the door.
i frowned and looked down at my ripped black chucks.
i knew you wouldn't be coming back
because saving the world takes longer than a lifetime
Maria 11:44:00 PM
brace yourself.
the busy signal winced three times
before i gave up on you
and left the phone swinging
off the hook,
beating the wall in an unspoken
silence.
Maria 11:42:00 PM
just put me inside you,
you asked, but
I hesitated.
the scent of summer sweat sent me reeling
the freckles beneath the crease of your eyes, the
tremble of fingertips
against my named
breast.
I'll never leave, you promised
i knew it even before you did.
The directed glare
of your eyes told me.
you had already left.
paz 8:41:00 PM
you make me twitter
under your skin
vibrate between your flesh
slide down your veins
we are a dance
rippling against satin sheets
lying under
a clipped sky
you'll never lose me
we're all washed up living
steadily. directly.
breathing deeply, we
g l i d e
choppy breathing back against
your poor emotion
for emotion
my eylids kiss in sleep
paz 8:36:00 PM
I won’t you
Want you?
I’ve dug to deep
to climb out now
you trickle steadily
into my well
filling me up
you, poised at the brim
emptying me by the
bucketful
I pour over you
soaking your clothes
hair flesh nails eyes
teeth your skin
we are the same disease.
paz 8:30:00 PM
“Five Bucks”
He shuffles and sorts the deck of cards wisely, as if he already knows the hand he has been dealt. His fingers fly across the table, spitting out the cards in 5 neat little piles. They grab there cards and the momentum of the game has begun, dollar after dollar into the chaos of the night. Lets start at five bucks. Hearts and diamonds, spades and clubs, jacks and queens, aces and deuces. Ice cubes clink-cold- and the glasses sputter. Spit spit spit go the cards and its all a matter of shuffling and rearranging, shouts and snarls and catcalls. the table goes up in cigarette smoke, curling around his face like a lover’s touch, sinking into his skin and seeping into the folds of his trench coat. He’s already brought in a hundred bucks, there goes 20, here comes 15. the girls giggle through crooked teeth and thick lipstick as he shuffles and sorts the cards again, spit spit spit. Now its 200. The stakes are high. one of them keeps a gun, right pocket, next to the picture of his little girl. run of 5, ace high? full house. now its all red. Thats the last straw, Johnson. The smoke slinks up the ceiling and he’s feeling rearranged on the floor. There’s no stopping this, the momentum of the game, dollar after dollar, into the chaos of the night.
paz 8:28:00 PM
drinking quietly by palm springs
kissing the sky
scraping the stars off the
ceiling of the room
pressing my into my back
calling to him, i’ll say
"Deep blue, forget me.
Surrender the memory.
I’m empty."
releasing my cat scratched arms
propelling my vagina
dying amidst rose petals
singing with skylarks
who whisper
movements, like prayers
whose voices
rips through empty roots
You’ll grasp my face
entangle our breath
sigh my name
combine our aura
chiming, sighing
madness grows,
and you are mistaken.
paz 8:28:00 PM
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