unedited words

Some words aren’t meant to be edited, and this is where mine live.


permission to rage

4-27-22

I was given permission today
by a confession that slipped
from under a tongue so still
it had forgotten what it hid

until I sang with a choking sob
words scratching my esophagus
permission to rage
granted by a truth let out

bucket list

4-6-22

down sunny newbury street we’ll walk
you’ll point at the people and I’ll watch you talk
budding magnolias and cherry blossoms stretch in the warmth
there’s a difference between pink buds, you’ll learn
bricked path singing to the steps of our shoes
a symphony of feet for a melody of two
we must go see the flowers one last time
they’ll remain for the rest of the month,
and a lifetime past mine

let’s go to the movies once again
forgetting that we’ve never been
can our hands meet in buttered popcorn?
that’s what the movies always show - is it true I wouldn’t know
there are so many firsts left for us
what about lasts - are there more
who is this list really for

a restaurant, maybe, after a whole day’s break
i’ll take a peck for a bite of cake
play roulette with the menu and eat without eyes
laugh so hard that I actually cry
unbutton if we are to make it home
collapse heavily in your living room

can we go to the beach just once more?
play in water and sit on the shore
feel the waves pull us away from our lives
tumble and drown in a sea god’s cries
another sunset over the foam
she’ll keep setting for years to come,
following oceans until she loses her shine
for a lifetime past mine

we must visit a museum, I say
knowing that those dusty paintings won’t walk away
those renaissance babies never age
they’ll remain there for the rest of the day
what’s old will stay old for all of time
and all the lifetimes past mine

keeping my blue at bay

1-16-21

this plunking in my kitchen overtakes a winter rain
I spend a meditative hour caressing, careful
cutting cautiously to avoid spilling red
yet I cannot hide the stickiness of
unexpected casualties
my fumbling hands too rough for that delicate skin
picking off the punctured pieces, I nourish myself
licking that sweet tangy nectar
and continue crackling
the crimson splatter
keeping my blue at bay


story of my life

12-4-21

Do not listen to their little lies
Gleaming, gleeful, self-obsessed
They dance and weave through the crowded night
Carelessly flirting before they part

Do not rely on their little lies
Alone with sun is all you’ll be
You’re a romantic this I know
For who else could love a star
That only gives half his heart


I’ve always known that feelings never last
I cling to dreams already gone
Can I resurrect the ghosts I once knew?
The familiar pressure flows
I once thought that tears were how they knew
It is time to remember and return
Pitying the girl crying underneath the sink
Loving her until the memories resurface
She’s always known
She always will
But she’ll always forget


sticky notes

12-27-20

My obsession with sticky notes is one that I can’t quite trace the origin of, but one that is incredibly core to what I consider to be my identity. I like lists, always have. There’s something comforting about a list - everything placed in permanent ink, unable to budge. A list will not change unless you so choose to. Sometimes the feeling of being put together is all but an illusion, but the feeling of control is so very real. By writing down my thoughts, goals, worries, I am able to wrangle the huge looming thread of sprawling thoughts into a few strokes of ink on paper. Much more manageable. I’m guaranteed never to truly lose anything when it’s recorded somewhere. Not that I’ll ever look at it again. That’s where the sticky notes came in I guess - modular list items in the huge list that is my life rendered as a collection of sticky notes. I’ll never lose anything, because I’m terrified of forgetting myself.


what is the opposite of loneliness

6-10-20

The immediate guess would be togetherness. Being around company, in the physical presence of other people, but some of the times I have felt the most alone were when I was surrounded by others.

I don’t feel lonely when I’m with my friends. I have felt lonely when I’m with my friends. I have felt lonely by myself. I also don’t feel lonely by myself.

The opposite of loneliness is laughing so hard that I can’t breathe. It’s being passed out on the floor with like-bodied incapacitated friends. When I’m feeling grumpy after an unplanned nap and walk out my door and just feeling the presence of the people in my dorm soothes me. The opposite of loneliness isn’t tied to the physical world, it’s a feeling. It’s the feeling that everything will be okay no matter what because I am with the people I love the most in either body or spirit and feeling their presence around and in me all the time.

It’s a feeling that I’m so grateful to have. I can’t explain it. It’s warm hugs from thin air.


senses

5-12-20

common sense no longer applies
I have no experience
from where to draw
                drawing the lines of your jaw
to the lashes on your eyes
                  those eyes
that see what I couldn’t see
                               in myself
                       I see you
                            in me
             and finally see
                               me from you