12/27

for the past couple days i've been sort of jogging to/from work, in a fit of missing the exercise from and swiftness of my bicycle.  there is still so much ice everywhere.  the running is kind of awkward in my work clothes with a jostling backpack but it's okay, it feels like i might be starting on some kind of quest.  too soon the flesh in my mittens is wet and there is a steamy halo spreading under my fur hat.

today on my way home i startled a hawk a few feet to my left.  it was first just a curt whoosh of air and a cloud of gray feathers, from the pigeon he'd been eating.  he landed nearby on the overpass and regarded me sternly before continuing to eat.  where he had been was a patch of bright red blood and yellow corn spilled undigested from the pigeon's gizzard. 

that's pretty much all that happened so far today besides staring at tumblr at work (and working some).  i guess we'll see what else happens. 

fermata to solstice & farther

do you remember how many moths there were last spring
someone said they blew up from down south
there's something off with the climate now
as we cruise gravity-less further from childhood;
last spring it was moths
and explosions of roses

my seasons are eating each other but not like
fish eat each other, in slippery gulps, more like
a lion eats his own cub

i have long found it
difficult to focus.

and everything
else is eaten by boredom.
i can steel my ribs well enough now
at least.

and i crumble now and then from
this lady body or
because of a typical dad-given unease
i don't know
do other dads give their kids eating disorders??

sometimes i can imagine
my spirit animal is a shark
when i put my black eyes in
smelling blood

bleeding like a stuck smiling
tell the world
i'm sorry it's so easy
to love me

because imitation
is no different from authentic
in the water

and it took/is taking me longer to learn
how a natural animal
should want to

spooky poem 1

a wet itchy dock and a bark-boat that
will maybe be our vessel bound

for seams, slots for my pennyfingers,
weeping botfly holes.

i've been accepting my death already in dreams,
mom hands me white handfuls of pills.

swallow gnats mouthing in your voice
the fine gentle names for me that settled from the silt-stir.

i've just been looking for
slits to dip my penny painted fingers in.

lashing on heavy bundles to
be fed to the portal.

tenth month

i dreamed my cat dandy had kittens but something wasn't right and nobody would listen.  she had birthed two and i knew one at least was still inside but nobody would listen. i could see it through her belly skin which was milky semi-opaque like dough stretched thin.  eventually i could poke my fingers in through a hole in the skin and pull the gray mouse-sized kitten out.  things were okay then.

life is good.
though the day-job lately leaves me feeling like a half-thick undergrown fruit at the end of the vine that's decaying to a shriveled umbilicus.  stunted. 
i feel ready to feel the readiness to slip down another channel.
once i you know figure that shit out.

my energy is shunted elsewhere.
i meditate by cooking.
i day-dream about my good man.
i try to keep feeding my friends
as we meet in this day-waning landscape
amidst a variety of simulated warfares.
us vs. them in high definition.

how many good days do you think we'll have.

religion

anemic dreamnotes

i dreamed that a small leopard owned by my sister came in my apartment through the window, intent on attacking my cats.  i was sluggish and couldn't stop it in time and it mutilated one of their hindquarters before i grabbed it by the neck and hurled it back out [the way wild animals are solidly muscled under skin].  i dream about my cats when it feels like i have a lot to take care of, life-wise.  or i dream about kittens or birds, dozens of them in fantastic colors that i am now in charge of looking after.
when i have a fight with close friends i dream about my sister.  when i fight with a close friend i usually dream i am beating the fuck out of my little sister, except my fists are slow and mushy.
i guess i'm writing about dream things.  i have not been dreaming much lately, but it's starting to pick up again and sometimes leave me feeling a terrible implacable sadness that lingers into the day like smoke.  these are autumn feelings maybe.
i dreamed the apocalypse again the other morning, it started in the rocky mountains and a widening hole opened up in the earth that grew.  when you're on top of a mountain the rest of the world feels impossible to grasp; the chasm was like that but a black anti-finality plunging downward, growing.  you're with packs of people [the way eyes look in disaster scenarios]. at the end it began to rain, and the rain turned to a soft white slush and the only sound was the hushed pat-pat-pat of precipitation over the dull throaty wind noise of the chasm.  i woke feeling sad and accepting about the end of the world.

it took me a month to get my car fixed.  this was a discouraging mental block i'd like to avoid more, seeing an easy solution but being paralyzed by some unnameable sluggishness.  i am checking many things off of many lists with tenacity.  i am really "manifesting" in ways i find pleasing, i like to think.  i am turning twenty-six years old very soon, this is mostly just fine.  things are pretty eerily great and i feel pretty solid in the world.  just great. 

  

HI IT'S ME // SOME KIND OF BANDIT

i am writing more.  it's autumn/september when my poembrain starts crackling into focus.  i am going to post some of the "chain of thought" type things i've been writing lately to get me going.  it's been a push for me to like begin describing in expressive ways how much these past months have changed/grown me.  and how pleased i am with life in gen.  for this writing however i could not be more humble/shy regarding the quality hi welcome to my blog.  here they are, here i go.

i want
rough paws
I want to always like myself this much this
goddamn much
I want everyone to know
I am frequently thinking of them and ways to make
them happier.  I am
trying hard to shake off
my hubris; jealousy. It
has not been too hard I just
have to keep saying "quit
having hubris" or "quit having
jealousy." IT FEELS SO FREE

I also found one of the
only things that has really
helped has been to stare at myself
in a mirror and repeat
the words
AUTONOMY
FREEDOM
RESPECT
until i feel better

Less REAL TALK.
More nonsensesense.
Sandwiches.
Eyewhites.
Mand shaking a jug o veg.

Smoked cigarettes for
five years.
Obsessively hated my body
and threw up a lot of food
for 8 years. 8 8 8
hated me. so strange.

It feels nice not to have
to carry anything so heavy.
The years i lost
went by troubling swift.

and it's still hard.
recently I ate too much cheese
or talked about eating
too much cheese.
Last year I started
Chinese class. There
is not much cheese in
China, but they do like
rotted bean things --
fulfill our human love
of the unctuous rotting
food thing.  Lactic fungi.

My hair is at least
doubly long.  Lightest
blonde at the ends where
it was once dyed black.
I have let several people
touch my hair and mouth.

I have learned some measure
of patience, tho suspect
it is a middling measure.
a patience on a short leash.
OR this may be a
summer that stretches
pinging through my decades,
like a novel with many
misunderstood wives.

I can calmly accept
change sometimes,
firm myself in calmness
for the wringing I'm
undoubtedly set to face.

Either i will be crushed
or I will crush myself
with wanting.

HEMORRHAGE
a fly on the
leaflitter.
cashew gingerbrew
soon you'll know all i
know about trees and
what then.

Only speak in fingers.
I once knew some shit
Once only I knew
some shit I knew, there
were thousands in red.
We couldn't compete
but kissed fondly instead.

I only speak in orgasm.
the others
wasted me.
Yes okay so I needed
rescuing but if you
show me how to
shoot I am sure to
be invaluable to the
rebellion effort.

Nobody taught me about
machines but I can
see how they work if
I look I just don't
know the names.

expecting to be
disappointed
may be cruel.

I am cruel.
No.
I am self-centered.
I want a story.
I want to get off.

DO I DESERVE
KINDNESS?

caught the first of the
winter screams these
past 2 days --
put me down more.
I want to hear
my faults and fix them
with love
I am fatalistically
calm.

I need to be coddled
sometimes especially when
I am feeling jealous
and anxious.  I try
not to feel these things.

I am enraged by
the failure of others
to be as attentive as
I am.
I am enraged? idk.
I want to hurt
them to make it
"fair"
because i hurt
exquisitely.

I can eat you
so slowly you won't
even notice.

Swaller. er.

I am cold hands playing
in yr noodle stew.
Clinical excision
on a whim.

by January I
am astride the roaring
king dragon
of feeling too much.

Super stuff it down
time.  A red fly eye.
Young girl thighs.
Competition, Alpha
bitch.  Love me please.
Magnolia leaftongue.

There is no thing more
maddening than
a fly who keeps landing
on legs.

Like a fly.  Like rubber
colored flies with red
eyes tonguing the
magnolia leaves of my
legs.

Like get up,
Sorry these bitches don't
take your subtle
neuroses into consideration.
Sorry some stuff about
you sucks and yr bored
bored bored as a kind of chronic
affliction. 

Be less careful.  Care
more.  Consider
how many girls had
young hard thighs
under magnolia trees
with a jay sing-songing
above, two notes, high-low.

Was it a windy day
when. When. When.
When. When. When. When.
When. Can you let go
of who
mishandled and crushed you

Have you stayed too long
in lincoln? did you not
get taught how to pursue
an exciting and fulfilling
career being cool?

HEY LONER

Hair and flies tickling everywhere
in the winter i want
to be clean of these

bench bush. bare asses.
the wind magnolia
skitter leaves. splinter.
you killed yr brain with
drugs and computers.
you suck at everything now.

Everyone will only ever crush and bore you so keep
yourself entertained.
it's not a fault.

The earth wad.
Sick hilltop orgasm.
Months go by.

There's probably a song
about it that does a
better job of explaining.

Seek further inspiration.
Be so confused by yr
femaleness.  Ask for
help but not really.

Give and give and give
and give and give and give
and give and give and give

what sticks anymore
ya lint logged.
Stuck a fur of splinters
in.
Easy like ***

I am so bored with being
self-obessed
I am bored by the
limited imagery
available to me when
I seek it in my
head space.
I approach gathering new
imagery as a translation
of sensation to language.

i want to write beautiful and true things
but don't know if i ever have or will.

how do i outsmart myself.

series or gears
smells of rain
should go