"good morning"

I want
to be sitting
upright
in the dark, with you
and
your face --
Not sleeping.

I want
to be
upside down
wrong way round
feet on non-pillows
a-wake-ing --

And you.

I want
time-traveling
time-warping
non-chronological
non-logical
nonsensical
"what is she doing?"
tree-top conversations:
Mad.

Pierced by ancient spears
my dear, is my dear --

drape your thoughts over me.

I could go on about your
myth'd eyes, but
your hands
and
your shoulders
and
your smile
and
your bringing me toast
are even nicer.

concerto K543

I recall, looking at my own lap, that characters costumed in purple will die. This is what Year 12 English taught me. By accident, I am also wearing purple. A much darker shade than your roses, though.


I see the gaping space and silence and know it must be yours. How fitting. What I really want to do, from minutes 2-6, is stand up and announce all your secrets (which in part, I suppose, are now mine). So that they will know, and be confronted with it alongside your awesomeness. How can they deny what they are seeing right in front of them? It seems like the perfect delusional plan. Then. Then they will HAVE to accept.

Oh no, we don't fit in here. But you fit there, so seamlessly. Not when you are un-still. Not with your fingernails clawing at your death-silks. But absolutely when your left hand is scribing the air up around your face. Yes, you fit where the assertion bulges through your profile neck and jaw. The shape is correct, with your listening back and eyes closing as if per script. There are parts which are yours, and you. Borrowed parts. Parts from elsewhere, also.

Nearly dropped into sleep, I see there is still mud on my shoes.

There is a choreography of violin bows spiking the air above your head. The conductor tries to turn her head towards you, but can never quite. Everyone is looking at you and is blind.

take two; five

On Friday someone told me I was lovely instead of the other way around.

On Saturday I stood waiting my turn in class and saw down the end of the room (seated) a stranger friend. Audience.

Thought I, "I know him." And some long minutes later realised what I knew: The way he cradled his knees; spoke with a New York accent; shadowed his face in long dark dreadlocks. I thought of the last time I showed up to class with messy bedsheets. Thought of how incongruous this made mee feel to a place of rigor, routine, reputation...

This particular Saturday, the messy bedsheets seemed fitting. Suited, in fact, to the onstage wrestle, hair tugging, indulgence, story telling. This place of routine now a place of something past. And what felt out of place now routine.

Even though Monday is my Sunday, I still feel guilty that all I've done today is fucked, eaten pancakes and had a shower.

I ate an egg last night.
It was the first egg I've eaten in 7 months.
It was from my friend's farm and was a "Legit Egg".
There was a piece of grass and some feather stuck to it and everything.
I took the grass and feather off and hard-boiled it.
It was a good-tasting egg.
But I don't feel like I miss eggs.

just to eat pretzel bread (oh, and dance)

there for
long enough
to know
I will
go back

there
for long enough
to get the jokes on the t-shirts

there
for long enough
to see familiar corners
in movie scenes

there for long enough
to call it
'home'

there
for long enough
to walk
uptown
to
downtown

there for
long enough
to find
pseudo-love
(night love,
$35 dollar entry love)
and
platonic love
and
in-love:
city love
with love, love

and there for long enough
to feel
the political charge

there
for long enough
to walk
long enough
long brooklyn bridge
manhattan to
the other side


there for
long enough to know
I wasn't there
long enough
and therefore
there long enough
to know
I will
before long
be back

I think the problem is:
There is a bit of everything in me
And so although there is 'balance'
I fit (in my entirety)
NoWhere.

Yea there is a beer in my car door (driver's side)
It's been there for ages
Don't judge me

I don't ever ever want to have to sleep ugghhh

cigarette duet

Listen.