It's only four years. It's so much.



***

Why does this
sound
like I'm losing

a lover?

Losing yourself
as a lover,

finding yourself
as a reinvented
lover.

It's just
me.

Oh Hai.

Mid January >>>> Arthroscopic surgery on my shoulder.
Next week >>>>> New car action.
Next month >>>> Workshops =)
This week >>>>> Christmas in Columbus; Amy King arrives in my mailbox as two separate books.
In March >>>>>> Resolution

The degree by which I wane
moves as an astrological sign
stuck in between your ribs,
in my cycle I nestle your heart
with lips pressed into the muscle itself
I then vomit at the smell I pass by in a minivan
in a commercial with electronic signals
cut down to a bare minimum
the I guess so in the crest of my sternum
unwilling to be excised it grows larger
becomes an organ    I give it a parade
for you I cut your fingers off at the hand

It's like something straight from that one Damien Rice song...you know, she's too young to treat.

Reality ruins a lot of things. Or, you know, realizing that your expectations were totally wrong. But you know, when you glorify the object and suddenly realize, "My god, it sucks!" ... you kill the entire uncertainty, worry of worthiness. The idea itself turns into a bird that gets suck into a passing airplane turbine.

Procrastination Station

I think I want to get my feet wet with some vegan action this winter. I also want to get my shoulder operated on so I can actually begin weight training. You know, after recovery and stuff.

Are You There?

Not feeling creative, sure, confident, hopeful, etc. I am ready for hibernation, why isn't everyone else? The winter months should be spent as soft and frozen as everything else.

I'm about to start posting old pictures that I have saved on my computer. Seriously, I'm so excited to get a camera again.

Things I am also excited for:

*Two poetry workshops next quarter
*Financial aid refund at the end of the month.
*Winter to be over
*Saving money
*Accomplishing stuff
*Keeping level

Suddenly, the flowers understood their construction

As the Russian man said to me in outrage, "I have no words for this."

Free sushi is a plus, but I can't help but think of his veins turning into silt.
Someone else keeps an unimpressed languageface under her fingerprints, white space marriage band handing us to different rivers delivering us to our respected cities. Every conversation begins and ends in unison, stressed vowels, then silence. Weak voices articulating consonant embrace, then silence. A look of pity, well of music and we've finished the act, lets go home.

--

Told myself I wasn't going to write on this here blog, but I am. I think it's the only proper way to express my daily thoughts. I don't know if I want any of this to be included in any sort of "body of work," but who knows. We'll take it one day at a time.

Empowerment is legitmately not wanting to taste a beer for the night.
Dismantling the old wrecks, confronting fists and saying their name outloud.
The mediated systems enact their means but I still feel love and guilt,
touch them with my fingers, cut their fat and body. I still believe in blood.

Am I moving or is motion a worldly disruption?
The language passes out, wakes up, passes out again
so I resist the urge to rub my hand over its thigh and say goodnight.

Goodnight.