i smooth down the sheets of our bed
and i do it so gently and so soft
because in this bed you can find us
as we lay catching the gray of the
morning and we rest entwined waiting for
the sleep to lift and for life to begin
again but it is sweeter here now that
a tiny little body takes up a huge part
and your smell and hers are mixed under
pillows and a lot of these three is spoken for
between those blankets we started new worlds
and discussed what was to come tomorrow or
in 100 years when we are hunched and weaker
and the prints on those sheets will signify
what we will become because we spoke of it
here

Shhh.

do not tell me this is it
no one can expect to believe
that from my person came the
only bit of me that will ever grow
the single part that can become
more than "i wish" or "i want"
and can actually BE for i
almost remember that once
i WAS and now i must
just wait for this instinct to
be silenced long enough for me
to do again and not just hope,
enough to create and not just
wait.

talibut

they have got you now
dead and in the center
you know nothing but
you have to pretend and
hold on tighter to your
lame sense of yes and the
reality of no. no you do not
belong here and no one is
waiting because you are
spent and you are thinned
and boring are the words that
spill like wine from the glass
onto the white

october

this is what it really means
when you get to where you wanted
by being pulled from the inside
because out is just a cover and
what comes is really just the rest
of what you never expected to happen
when you walked miles in dirty shoes
with broken laces and a dreamer's spirit
and the notion that you knew everything

Anaïs Nin

"Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death."
circa 1932

2.5.08

there is something so lovely about this rainy day, the bright pink of the cherry blossoms amongst the bare trees and gray skies

mouse

the air was sweet that night as i followed you home
trying to keep the pace i followed silently
holding hands but barely touching i let you lead me
to the place where you hide your secrets and all that
you really are when you stop the universe for a moment
and make paper airplanes that can actually take us
somewhere far enough to only hear nothing and keep
the tiny bits that still mean something because we get
so tangled and sometimes we just want to wake up
in the same exact place where we started