feeling the innocense

and the poem in question



jonathan, do you know who loves you..me.

the north meadows

I scare children, pretending I am a witch
sticks find my hand, marriage
seeing night, my pair of widowed eyes find I am
spitting salt water at a block of ice.
I said "A park in the middle feels good."
sorry hands on my breast only sense
snare dusk ears and a bench.

dream house

pink light parading as blue
the floor is fit and fiber
my friend sits in the pulses
our eye is searching inside our head for the machine
that it seems we are in.
tilt it this way, we are in a truck
move it back and here we are,
in the belly of a ship going down.
the noise isn't anything like we've
known to be beautiful,
but on these pillows
we find ourselves falling asleep.

backlogged

The dream is alive within the dream. the room is the one you are in, as your feelings leave your head as sweat that washes away by-gones and stray dogs napping in the small of your back. In the dream, I dreamt you tossed your arms in front of YOU, I was already there. So I owe you a thanks. They crept up, unnerved me in order to be happy, moved one of me aside to get to the other.

that's about right

I am looking at this page. I realize I want to write on it. What do I want to write on it? Maybe it is too early in the day to think about categories or anything for that matter. Maybe it is just that my feet are too god damn cold. I'll come back later with some kind of thoughts...

Still no particular reason,

When Mortimer and I first met, he knew I was right for the job. This was because, like him, I could not imagine the future. I always knew it was coming, towards me all the time, but I did not feel it until it was the present, then the past. My senses were absent when it came to processing unknown endings. He said that he needed me empty of all anticipation and only then could I succeed. I told him I was incapable of anything other than that. From his hiding place behind the shadow, I felt his body slide into a satisfaction with me and my answer. He put out his hand to shake mine, but all I could see was its shadow. I touched that instead, because his real hand never crossed over into the light. That was the funny thing about Mortimer; for all I knew, a shadow was all he ever was.

Tartufoh

This week has been the week of perpetual waking. I can't help but feel that I haven't actually slept at all in at least six days. Hi ho! Last night I died at 10pm and was so surprised at 6:20 when I came back to life. I'm very happy that I did, though.

A friend gave me a cd, the first I've gotten since I moved back east.. it has a lotttalotta songs on it, a couple albums actually..I just popped it in for the first time tonight! I'm really digging this record by the Silver Apples, impressed that it was made in the late 60's, which wikipedia just informed me of.. music must be circular, because this sounds a lot like what people are slapping around these days.

We found a roach relaxing on my toothbrush the other night! JUST CHILLIN'. It's definetly gross, but the more I tell the story, the more I imagine it crossing it's little legs, drinking a scotch or something, happy that it found something nice to sit on. Then I can't get mad, I just gotta buy a new toothbrush. That's the way I feel about it.

New York is getting more fun; aka, the coolest place can suck without friends.

Current Happenings: I am making pickled vegetables to bring to a fall tea party/bonfire.
I am knitting Nichki a dusty teal scarf: knitting skills are positively doubling
I am.
I am happily biding my time to ask someone out on a date..

how do people do that? I don't really want to do something anyone else would do, I'm just unsure about the kind of method I would work. Whatever method it is, it's awkward.

Should I leave my apartment tonight? I'm going to go eat some crackers and think about it.