Sunday, November 27, 2011

two suicidal thoughts under one roof.

I kissed Thom.
He had walked away, into a near empty field, the sunset looming somewhere far in the background.
It was the color of his hair.
He had been upset with the jumping into the water full of swordfish, the moving of the glass stove to make the place look big, the petty girls buying appliances from the little store. But most of all, he had been upset at his inability to say anything. So he left.
I simply followed him outside, grinning from ear to ear because I was so sure about everything. I followed him out and kissed him squarely on the lips.
His surprise was unmasked.
His lips were twisted in serenity.
The wheels of his mind were turning.
He held my hand and squeezed it, never once looking at me.
He was you.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Trains

My stubborn sleeper
The demon and angel inside me
My church and mosque
synagogue too
my river, my waterfall
my sharp rocks at the bottom
the chocolate on my crepe
the salt on my wound
my map, my sky
my wings, my fall
my heartbeat
my choking cough
me me me me
my my my my
mine mine mine all mine

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

who/where/what

I had a dream that the world was ending and everything was purple. I wasn't worried, because I was with my baby brother, who, if I think about it, is the only person I really give a fucking damn about.

Then in my nightmare, I was following two tall women dressed in white, wearing flower tiaras, into the brightest green forest I've ever seen. When I shivered us both awake, and he kept asking me if I was ok, I couldn't speak because the world was in my mouth, and I couldn't let it fall.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

'or at least face the realities of what you've done'

Saturday, November 12, 2011

this western feeling

I would love you so much,
even if you went blind.
I'd help you make use of your
hand in other ways
if they cut off your right
ring finger.
I'd use my hair as rope,
pull out your heart and clean it,
I'd be the angel to your Muhammad
(PBUH)
and you'd be the most perfect human
being ever created.

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

and so it is

There is a blind man here, bald and white
His stick and stance are
dignified.
Left ring finger
occupied.
I bet what he sees is pure
I bet the words he hears
resonate in his mind.
Because he is lucky
unlike us sight folk.
The wind from the passing train
cools his scorched skin
the same way it makes
the ends of my skirt
flutter in delight.
The time he spends
away from home
is as precious
as mine
probably more.
And yet...
I wonder
if the words he hears
are more important
because he can't see them
coming out of his lovers' mouth.
if when a pen drops does
his mind go wild?
if the lights come on
does his eyes go blind
from the sudden brightness?

There is a blind man here,
bald and white.
His heart is in a better place
than us sight folk, because
he trusts his heart,
while the rest of us blame it.

Thursday, November 03, 2011

now that it is done,
everything tastes different.


I want to ask if you're happy, but I don't think I will.