Somnambulism.

To be earthen, flat on my stomach, heart pressed down, eyelashes tangled in with the rushes, damp soil permeating my pale skin-- what an aspiration.

With Hourly Updates.

i'd be anyone to be by your side (you know, i haven't wished on a star since december)// the reason i ask is because i really would like to kiss you-- i think we should dance:: i love your eye makeup == [i doubt i would have been your friend] "it's been a long time since before i'd been touched, and now i'm getting touched all the time" riviere, vous etes ici? maintenant? && lydia, do you even love me? && i'm living ahead of an echo||||| darling, you should know, i have fantasies about being alone.

Highs in the Sixties.

It's decidedly warm enough to listen to Paul Simon's Graceland album, but perhaps not warm enough to swim.
It was good though, to stand on a rock in the sunlight, reflecting the sunlight, letting the sunlight bring the feeling back into my legs after time spent in the paralyzing cold. Funny that any discomfort should be worth anything. Funny too, that someone should ski by while we were barefoot in bathing suits.

Do As I Say (Not As I Do) And You Might Make Me Proud.

There's hypocrisy in my anger, but what can I say? We're all hypocrites, it's taking the tilt right out of the earth. Watch me hit the wall until my knuckles bruise, then it's your turn.
If I had anything to say, I'd say it. That's not it. Giving and taking care are supposed to happen in moderation. Someone remind me tomorrow when I've already convinced myself otherwise.

Birthday Number Ninety.

I am talking to a stranger. His eyes are silver-lined with age.
"You have to promise me something, you've got to call your grandfather zeyde from now on," he tells me. "He'll like it. It's a term of endearment and he deserves it."
I promise him I will. To prove it I step outside into the rain which gets caught in my throat as I say goodbye to my zeyde, who laughs.

Building Blocks of Light.

You see, I'd like to live inside an Edward Hopper painting. I've already got the distance down, the uneasiness. Just try making eye contact.

A Ball of String.

Perhaps it's pure stupidity, but I felt safer with your hands off the wheel, tracing an imaginary graph,of what I've already forgotten, or maybe light-year apart. Real science is easier to handle if I'm not alone.
Both of you are spectacular, I think. A profound intelligence in a way it too rarely appears.
I should learn to speak coherently. I must always be at an extreme, manic rambling or slipping in a delicate silence.

Staircase.

I felt paralyzed, getting away as fast as I could. I'm talking fight of flight instincts, thoughtless, adrenalined reaction. You knew I was gone before I did.
There's an indifference I can't shake these days. Only my hands shake.

Spill.

I like wearing my mother's muddy boots and my father's old jacket
and feeling the muscles in my back strain while I carry buckets of maple sap across the yard.
That was today.