peaks and valleys

nobody's surprised when patterns repeat

sad, maybe

but not surprised

there were lessons learned there

and there are lessons i'm learning still

stomach

I don't really understand how gummy vitamins work.
How is it all in there?
How can we be sure that it is real at all?
A cup of broccoli in a fruit chew.

I do this thing.
A perceived good.
From a fear of unwellness and unknown terror
I buy supplies.

"you should date him," she says
and it feels like a choice between never and forever
a web wound tight, a comfort or a crime
should maybe

a label is a promise
that takes a sort of faith
but I've seen eyes gazing out from behind the curtain
starved and full of shit

looking for that
easy swallow

imperative

I HAVE come to bury Love           

     Beneath a tree,

 everyone's best friend died today,

In the forest tall and black

     Where none can see.

apparently.  he died in a hotel in mexico

I shall put no flowers at his head,

     Nor stone at his feet,

while i am toe to toe with my own grief.  

my hollow haunt. My real life ghost

For the mouth I loved so much

     Was bittersweet.




deletedeletedeletedelete




I shall go no more to his grave,

     For the woods are cold.

who stopped midsentence and left abruptly 

I shall gather as much of joy

     As my hands can hold.

when something young and shiny stumbled by

on the other side of the road

I shall stay all day in the sun

     Where the wide winds blow, --

and i'm headed back to the graveyard

(stay away, there's nothing to say) 

But oh, I shall cry at night          

     When none will know.

his bad form reduced to a dash

a freedom and release

a proposition in my hand




deletedeletedeletedelete

open

 

I need to leave these here.  We open tonight, and the impact that that process of the past few weeks has had on me just starting to sink in. I feel very... grateful.  And vulnerable.  And appreciated.  And emotional.

I want to live always in this state of flow.

Deliberately and engaged.

learning yearning

The vision nearly stopped me in my tracks.  Aesthetic excellence enough  to worship.

And then she spoke.  Oh my god, when she spoke.  All spells were undone.  All magic, lost.  The youthfulness that poets praise, she warped to disaster.  Hardly recognizable.  Sloppy.  Something not brimming with curious yearning but fraught with gross need.  Falling all over herself.  Slurring words at 9:30 pm.  A spectacle.  An embarrassment to beauty.  Something to tolerate, rather than to adore.

The ghosts have all gone hollow.  Nothing to fear and so little to envy- a quiet sadness in the graveyard.  I'm learning yearning anew.  An older longing.  A controlled draw. Steady, now.

Steady.