Friday, December 07, 2012

The Arches of Summer

Bells are chiming
Singing in glee
For you and me.
And flowers bloomed
Defying the gusty winds,
of an island spring.
When everyone smiled,
their words were waterfalls
of honey and sugar.
They poured themselves
into our bodies of tea,
And the gods picked us ripe
to plant in their gardens of love
so that they could also know
what it was like to have
what you and I
Began.

you, you, you

the world is diagonal
when i think about how
you are mine forever
my heart is thumping
like a sea storm
inside my chest

Friday, November 23, 2012

eternal sunshine.

It was when the sunlight blinded me after I knew that snow had fallen the night before that I realized the wonders of the universe and how it worked were equivalent to our love. The crisp autumn snow lay frigid outside as the Stillwater sun beat down on your bare chest. My hand found yours as I watched you curve your perfect lips to sip the cider of the Plains. Love beamed, sitting upright on your back while you slept (so sweet) on your stomach. It became the wind in your hymns of surprise laughter, the verb behind your smile. It got caught like my hair in your fingers, my language in your tongue.

I remember when you looked back at me,
that fateful day,
when your half smile and focused chin
became the net that caught my butterfly heart.

I remember being a mountain
to your sky,
alone in the geography
of our borrowed bed.

My ballooned head
followed you around
as you pulled my heart made of string.

When I ate those marigolds that weren't mine
and danced like a Russian.
Or spoke in my mother tongue,
you understood,
because you knew all about

parampara
dil kashi
saadgi
jaan aur
jigar

It's numbing when I see my words wash over your wounds. Your feelings made of flesh hiss at the sweet balm of diction. You push my hair away when I'm looking down into the empty palms of our future. You sit behind me, so we're looking in the same direction but not at the same things. You push my hair away, you kiss my wingspan- my heart takes flight. It's strange watching myself turn into a listener, and you a writer. It's strange watching us (with such speed, since we have practice now, you see) create safe spaces in rooms we enter for which to put our love-we walk in, fingers intertwined, eyes large, biting the inside of lips- we don't even know we're doing it anymore, but it's there. The dipping of toes into water, the preparing of a corner in which to put our love in full and almost offensive view of others, so neither of us forgets for a single second that our threads were tied and knotted several times over long before we even knew the other existed.



Thursday, November 15, 2012

hello, goodbye

Thank you and,
Happy Birthday.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Edward Hopper's Reclining Nude

I watched the figurine dance in the flames
Felt the 4am raindrops wet my bed
I ran after you in a hollow tunnel
Watched you pass out on the floor
to cries of
'you don't understand, you don't understand, you just don't understand'
The scratches on the surface
multiply every day
I'm trying to clean clean clean all this blood off my hands
as I stare at
Everything is getting darker
and deeper
I want to kill myself when you cry, I say.

Thursday, November 01, 2012

Rabba

I saw you in my dream last night,
Dictating the soliloquy of my eternal
Pain,
in your droll muezzin drawl.
Your black sherwani choking your pride.
Always black, sick, sick, sick to death
I am
of that treacherous color.
I know you wished me a serpent's death,
slimy and undignified,
blood black (that word...)
as night.
And you know what they say
'be careful what you wish for,
lest it come true'.
And now my dreams are three-legged creatures,
disfigured,
imbalanced,
on the brink of insanity.
And my head makes my teeth hurt,
my heart swallows the last good light
that might have once surrounded it.
My everything is broken, sire, but,
your muezzin's drawl,
hands folded,
in the doorway,
stood true.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

A new dress
stitched with
the thread of
Old woes
Hugs in bosoms
For when we get up
after we fall fall fall

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Friday, August 03, 2012

not empty

from the first kiss of the day
to the last kiss at night
we smirkingly wrung the dirty water
of Logic and Reason
out of our Passion.
so that it smelled like
a newly-washed old
bed sheet
deeply rooted in
Holey Memories and
Faded 'I love yous'
and
Nostalgic 'We've done this befores'
and
Hopeful 'Let's do it agains'.

but the Logic and Reason we had
so slyly expelled
seeped, like Holy Water
into our lovingly planted garden of
fruits/herbs/vegetables/flowers
so that we ate Them.
enjoyed Them.
became Them.


Wednesday, August 01, 2012

Sunday, July 29, 2012

july dreams

have i turned you into a smoker?
a candid worrier
a delicate philosopher
when the flowers i gave you refused to turn
red or pink
you made them turn into both
and scattered the empty floor
with their petals
when you exchange your life
with characters from a book
is it me you're thinking of,
yearning to get back to?


Sunday, June 24, 2012

alternatives

i have stopped writing.
because he is mine. it's really quite simple.
i don't feel the need
to undress my feelings
and cry because i can't fix
things.
when he is inside me
and his musky, earthy, dewy smell
complements and calms
my ferociously roaring pride,
there is the place
i always ever want to be.
i am molding my body
to fit in his hands
i am molding my thoughts
to make room in his heart
i am molding my demons
to melt from his gaze.
it is (so far) an
extraordinary journey
of self-realization and
worth.
and i want it to stay that way.
so i have stopped writing.
because
i have hidden him in the many-colored layers of my self
so when people look in from the outside
they see only love.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

cartwheels

it must
be tear
able
to know that
you are not
the one

Monday, May 14, 2012

The New Summer

It has been a strangely pleasant start of driving large cars with small patience while staring at the sudden abundance of freshly bloomed extra large roses that seem to surprisingly be everywhere, wondering why I can't just uproot everything I think is beautiful and keep it all in a perfectly orchestrated array of borrowed cardboard boxes in the three-dimensional triangular closet under the wooden stairs.

There's a lot of newness emanating from my soul. Even this slip in to a (previously unfamiliar) slump of lazy, dizzy happiness, where I want to do nothing but sit around all day because I don't know when I'll feel this amazing again so best not disturb it.

Anyhow, it's always a good idea to fold, pack and ship away your baggage to a place you're never ever ever ever going to visit again because you almost died last time you were there and stayed longer than should ever have been necessary.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

dreams

'i swear to fucking god i will jump off this fucking roof if you don't throw that snake away'

Wednesday, May 09, 2012

evolving

The fever took her, suddenly, quietly. Where one moment she was lying down, the next her blood had been burned, her hair was fire, so that there was a constant glow about her face.
She was to live on, as the smoke from cigarettes, the smoke from a burnt turkey dinner, from bonfires, from forests, from places where children died frequently.
In moments like these, where her body and her brain were two separate entities, she could think only of the way his skin joined in perfect harmony behind his ears.

Sunday, May 06, 2012

it's true

every time he tells me he loves me, my
silly
old
weary heart
peels at its edges
to reveal
a whole new flesh of
felicity

Thursday, May 03, 2012

they locked me in e.e. cummings room.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

dreams about Israeli football and your father about to hack you with a sharp axe.

Monday, April 09, 2012

inspiration

You have a morning in you
the only reason for which I wake

Sunday, April 08, 2012

don't go looking for something.
what you might find is probably not what you wanted.

Monday, April 02, 2012

'I will be the perfect man for you.'
'You already are.'

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

good trip, bad trip.

My body asked me what was happening. I told it I had no words to describe what it felt like, there were no words that would do this act justice, so I would show them with my mind's eye instead.
I told it we were two feathers, light, in the wind, in sync. I said that's exactly how I felt, like a feather- free from my obligations to the body. I felt like I was made out of air, that I could go on like this forever. That is how he made me feel, I said. Body understood.
Then he did this thing, where he lifted me, my curved back, my feather-like being, and placed me on top of him. My body asked again, what was happening. I closed my eyes, and replied with the most beautiful smile 'We're stars now. This is what it feels like to be a star. Two specks of glowing gold, floating in the vacuum expanse of black space. Two sheets of burning metal, welded together as if they were never apart, flying at high speed towards nothing, with nothing above them, and nothing beneath. Nothing to save them but themselves.' Body understood.
That's when I realized what was actually happening.
I was in space.
With the person I loved.
And if I slipped or faltered or let myself go, they would die too.
So I kept my eyes shut, speed was gaining, but I wasn't driving, just crying.
I told him to hold tight, to never let go.
Cheesy, but necessary directions.
I didn't care what happened to me, I just didn't want to hurt him. Ever.

He held my face then, brushed my hair with his fingers, wrapped its length around my shoulders, blanketing me with the both of us. He helped me breathe, realize I was human, and that love was beautiful.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Miles to-go

frozen penguins and
stolen water and
half hugs and
wet hands and
theatrical music and
joint ventures of
sadness.

tis

we woke up laughing
hysterically through the
gaps of our teeth
because everything is funny
when you're in youth
when you wake up
side down
dry saliva caked
in the brackets
surrounding your open
mouth

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Thursday, February 23, 2012

mid-Feb

It's happening again. I am awake at 4am to the terrifying undeniable truth that there is nothing I can do to stop the monster.

Oh my love. Tell me what I should do. The chirping birds tell me of lands undiscovered, to not just sit and accept my convoluted fate. I'm a fish now, I am the sea. Tell me, how does one fight this battle, who does one defeat, who is victorious? I can smell the fear when you look at me with those bold, languid eyes.

I try to hold your hand, hold your heart, but I think I have forgotten how to. Or that you will not let me. I know what you're thinking. It is present in the scent of your clothes, in the pity nature of your kisses- what's the use? You are convinced of my lack of self, my lack of devotion, of anything worthwhile. There is nothing here, I tried to tell you so many times. Yet you insisted you saw something in me: something pining for the union of light and dark.

I remember. I remember instances so ingrained in my memory that I cannot separate my dreams from my reality.

And yet, I am reduced to being a shell of my former self. No- I am now reduced to nothing. To words cut up and cut out then left alone. Stolen magic and stolen melody.

I breathe carefully, so as to not make it known that I have been crying. I lie on his shoulder, my fingers are feeling his face (always I am feeling faces, as if I know one day I will be blind or gauge my eyes out) trying to make his muscles talk to me because he won't. Trying to get his facial hair to respond to my nearness. They are oblivious, as expected. He opens one eye to stare down at me, and I look away. There is nothing to see here. Nothing that will convince him anyway. He has his mind made up, and I mine. In my dream, he gave me something beautiful, but it was dead, aptly wrapped in plastic. In real life, his response was blind and stupid.

I know the fault is my own. I have pushed myself to the point of no return. To a point where it is difficult to want to be around me because I carry the weight of antagonism in full view.

How long should I be allowed to go on like this? Empty and secluded, not really here, not really anything. Gutter and the wind. What new tricks have you been performing, my love? You release your warm hand from my tight grip. Don't you know that I love you? Don't you know I loved you from the moment you looked at me pretended not to see me? I loved you then, when we had nothing, and I love you now, when we've been given everything. I loved you when you opened, like a lily to the heat. I only have a second-hand physique, a frozen love that time cannot deceit.

I craze. I twist your foot, leave in anger and humiliation, leave you in pain and without a sincere apology. But I come crawling back, searching for the crook your arm so lovingly offers, I come back for the familiarity, for everything that was ever known to us that now rests in the lines of our palms and the pre-mature wrinkles of our faces. We both already know, so tender and young, that this life is going to be hell. We've made that decision for each other, we know it's only going to get worse. We've destined our happiness to share closets with each others' demons.

Next time you see me, I will be different. I have no wear or care for your preferences. I will come as I am, and you will love me for me.

Saturday, February 04, 2012

demotivational

'The train! The train! The train!', her nimble heart yelled.
(She couldn't help thinking afterwards) the kisses that were exchanged had somehow been lost in translation. It didn't matter though. Somehow, somewhere, someone understood.
Every single day, we prepare ourselves so much. We put on necessary armor to fight what we expect to happen, and we always have back up armor for the unexpected.
All that false protection (I say false because there is no certain way to cheat the inevitable) tries its best to guard us from what we think will harm us. Walking around barefoot will make the dust settle in our bones. Too much sun will turn us into unfortunate-looking monsters. Not wearing a seat belt will prevent us getting from point A to B. So on and so forth, this list of 'do-nots' and 'should-nots' is endless.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Twice

in an egg-shaped quandary
with knocked knees protruding gracefully and
clustered purple clouds and
twinkling airplanes
soon I will give you a bowl full of
chopped-up Me-ness
soon you will have all the
TearsVomitJoyandYawns
mixed in with vinegar made from
Hope
and
juicy-looking cubes bursting with Lust
squeezed half of a Doubt
balanced by an
overflowing teaspoon of
Certainty
soon you will have
all of this and more, my
Love.
soon you will have swallowed
Me so that I sit
warmly, territorially, giddily,
in your tummy.
soon we will be all
LiesandLimbs
HandsandHearts
a Traditional moment
nestling (so precious)
in the pit of our
Modernity.

Monday, January 16, 2012

tulips

All the beauties
And the all the horrors
The sticky winter wind
Broken trees
Fallen leaves
Smudged kohl
Invisible hole

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

primal

wanting to get lost
in the black hole
your lips made
just for me.

Sunday, January 08, 2012

what do i do?

what do i do, what do i do, what do i do, what do i do, what do i do, what do i do, what do i do.

Saturday, January 07, 2012

subjugation

The sweet
smell of sadness
in my palms
pressed to my face
repressing the sudden and unwelcome
flow of tears
and the repeated declaration of independence
'i love you, i love you, i love you'

Friday, January 06, 2012

the trap

Constant
inople.
Raspberry cherry pie in bed.
These are the dreams
of you I have
in my heavy
Little head.

Thursday, January 05, 2012

midnight's children

I learned how to play an instrument
Badly
and I would sit in the fields
next to the railway tracks
and the buttercup flowers
Or follow the two pretty sisters
with long hair
who had just
arrived from England.
Who were in love
with a Tommy.
Who'd wear tights under
their shorts
so as not to upset their mother.
All the while,
I was a politician's whore.
A befitting career
for someone who liked discounts
benefits
extravagance.
Once at a night time pool party
I was drawn to a different man
in my American flag bikini.
Later I cried as he undressed me.
And later still,
I answered all the questions
and collected all the money
in my grey/black pencil skirt.
The other man,
(I remembered, as I signed the papers)
(and smiled for the cameras)
had thrown his cigarette butt
onto a stranger's balcony.
This memory came to mind
when I ran into a carpeted room
full of spilled yellow rice
and started passionately playing
my badly learned instrument.

Tuesday, January 03, 2012

A Cherry Death

His breath on my hand
My stomach in knots
My eyes refusing to open
The sudden twist of sleep
The weekend before everyone is happy
This dreaded empty feeling
Only the brightness of lights
Can bring about.
This too shall pass
This too shall pass
This too shall pass
The blunt thickness
of the Fingers I Use The Most.