This is a story
that I have been
meaning to write,
for a while now,
called
"All the reasons,
I love you"
and
it goes like this:
There once was a bottle of
Black Cherry Vanilla Coca Cola,
and it was once
shaken
flat
by the hands of a little girl
with her hands around
the neck
of the bottle
(she wasn't a big fan of pop),
and she said,
"Mama I ain't sick but I want
some of that ginger ale that
you make special when I am";
In old age
Her hands will
shake
and She
will
forget
the words,
Or at least what writing
them might Entail
(won't is wont,
want is wan't is
wont is wan't is won't),
And She loves Him, She
really does,
But they are far too dull
for
One
another
And they
have too
little
to teach
each other
about life
but a lot
of
things
to
Share.
She will
become his
JESUS or the other
way around (blah blah
blah SHE will become
his, maybe, His.)
"How will this look
with a comma", she wonders,
"He is the anti-hero":
Skinny,
Unshaven,
Unwarped,
Unharmed,
Unharming of
the bugs
and the plants
and the
trees,
and she wants
to see
the
things
he does, and does
and does
.
Friday, April 28, 2006
The Simple Life
There is
a considerable amount
of distance
between us,
We should probably
invent a handshake
or talk about
a hug,
Before we see each
other and let
quiet become
quiet.
I will be happy
to see you.
a considerable amount
of distance
between us,
We should probably
invent a handshake
or talk about
a hug,
Before we see each
other and let
quiet become
quiet.
I will be happy
to see you.
Back Shelf In The Kitchen
Staring at pictures in
forbidden places, you have
found me,
citation,
citation,
please.
forbidden places, you have
found me,
citation,
citation,
please.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
REASONS I NEED TO GO HOME
1. The pile up of shoes under and surrounding
my desk has grown to eight (three more behind
the chair).
2. I miss talking to my mom. She turned her phone
off, cannot get my calls.
3. The rack beside my desk (the portable extension
of my closet) has gone from housing skirts and blouses
to my prized items (the replaced are in boxes that are
stacked in the living room): puss in boots with jewels,
little girl on the prairie, shimmering things and sundresses.
4. My necklace collection has been cut in half (only my
"favourites remain"), the rest are in a basket on the
floor and I am still annoyed.
5. I need to read the books on my mantle.
6. She gave me caffeine pills and she wants to give
me more.
7. I miss my mom.
8. The pileup of shoes is overwhelming.
9. I can't get dressed, and my neighbourhood is crazy and so
am I.
10. I need to sleep. My neighbour tells me sleep is
overrated.
11. I am tired and need to go home.
my desk has grown to eight (three more behind
the chair).
2. I miss talking to my mom. She turned her phone
off, cannot get my calls.
3. The rack beside my desk (the portable extension
of my closet) has gone from housing skirts and blouses
to my prized items (the replaced are in boxes that are
stacked in the living room): puss in boots with jewels,
little girl on the prairie, shimmering things and sundresses.
4. My necklace collection has been cut in half (only my
"favourites remain"), the rest are in a basket on the
floor and I am still annoyed.
5. I need to read the books on my mantle.
6. She gave me caffeine pills and she wants to give
me more.
7. I miss my mom.
8. The pileup of shoes is overwhelming.
9. I can't get dressed, and my neighbourhood is crazy and so
am I.
10. I need to sleep. My neighbour tells me sleep is
overrated.
11. I am tired and need to go home.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
The Good One
You look like Jesus,
Skinny at least,
Maybe weaning off the
Differences you found
Between them for
Survival, he pays the bill,
She leaves him, and we
Still haven't spoken
(My knack for romanticism
Is gone but I still want
To talk).
Skinny at least,
Maybe weaning off the
Differences you found
Between them for
Survival, he pays the bill,
She leaves him, and we
Still haven't spoken
(My knack for romanticism
Is gone but I still want
To talk).
Monday, April 24, 2006
The Woman She Was Little
Halfway between bored
and boring,
and the denim on my leg
is still not tight enough,
and if it feels good,
it does not mean that I
will get out of bed for it.
The woman (little) said:
"I like your sweater"
and I told her I bought it on
sale and I got angry because
it made me think of how loose
the denim still was
and how the lady at the store
told me it was my final chance
(That woman wants it
she said so I bought it
and then I got angry because
I wanted more than I came
home with but the denim on
my leg is still not tight enough).
The pants are still not tight enough
And I still cannot sleep here.
and boring,
and the denim on my leg
is still not tight enough,
and if it feels good,
it does not mean that I
will get out of bed for it.
The woman (little) said:
"I like your sweater"
and I told her I bought it on
sale and I got angry because
it made me think of how loose
the denim still was
and how the lady at the store
told me it was my final chance
(That woman wants it
she said so I bought it
and then I got angry because
I wanted more than I came
home with but the denim on
my leg is still not tight enough).
The pants are still not tight enough
And I still cannot sleep here.
New Tenant
Of course they wanted the house,
No neighbours knocked on the wall
Leaving patterns of their fist echoing down the stairwell,
No cupboards opened on a whim,
And the floor had been redone, and the dishes washed
And the counter scrubbed
By me, and the
Sound of the echoe of your voice
In their ears and the electric comotose
Of the thoughts between your words
Did not ring.
And the best part of the house
She'd tell you was its placement
On the street
And not the bleach between the eyes of
The tenant left upstairs or the sound of what
Gets left in the room at the back of the top
Of the stairs
(She went there and she left she said),
But the problem
I would tell you is that
The tenant in the room downstairs
With the mess behind the door
Was not home,
And she was not out because
The rain on the sidewalk might
Ruin the colour of her shoes
That dye her feet orange
Each time she wears them,
And that first impressions
Do not show
How cold the house gets in winter
And how terrible it is to live
In a house
Where the windows are covered
In plastic and where even
The consistent changing of light bulbs
Does not make
The light in the hall stay on.
(She will not get to live with you
And your fight with the heater).
No neighbours knocked on the wall
Leaving patterns of their fist echoing down the stairwell,
No cupboards opened on a whim,
And the floor had been redone, and the dishes washed
And the counter scrubbed
By me, and the
Sound of the echoe of your voice
In their ears and the electric comotose
Of the thoughts between your words
Did not ring.
And the best part of the house
She'd tell you was its placement
On the street
And not the bleach between the eyes of
The tenant left upstairs or the sound of what
Gets left in the room at the back of the top
Of the stairs
(She went there and she left she said),
But the problem
I would tell you is that
The tenant in the room downstairs
With the mess behind the door
Was not home,
And she was not out because
The rain on the sidewalk might
Ruin the colour of her shoes
That dye her feet orange
Each time she wears them,
And that first impressions
Do not show
How cold the house gets in winter
And how terrible it is to live
In a house
Where the windows are covered
In plastic and where even
The consistent changing of light bulbs
Does not make
The light in the hall stay on.
(She will not get to live with you
And your fight with the heater).
Saturday, April 22, 2006
The Beginning of the AM
The pasta came up whole,
and while we talked about the way
our parents fed us,
I sat and chewed each piece
one hundred times.
and while we talked about the way
our parents fed us,
I sat and chewed each piece
one hundred times.
The first one smashed to pieces
April:
He cuts the docks himself,
here they are in seperate
pieces,
some of them are the length
of your hand
and others the length
of the bottle of thirty
he forces on us,
so we won't burn like we have
today in an hour.
May:
Every year more wood is
added
because the boats need longer
docks to keep them,
and soon the wood is combined
with the neighbours wood
and we are forced to share.
The rocks used to be up to my waist
but now they sit above the water.
June:
The clay is dirty on my fingers
and all the shells are gathering piles
on the edge of the raft
and there is sun on the waterproof screen
that he forces and he
is sitting on the dock because the raft
is so shallow
that it isn't
fun anymore.
July:
"I'll beat you to the water!"
"No you won't..."
She beats beating the cold
everytime.
August:
I refuse to sleep on the bed,
my spine does not
bend that way
after months of living
on the sand.
He cuts the docks himself,
here they are in seperate
pieces,
some of them are the length
of your hand
and others the length
of the bottle of thirty
he forces on us,
so we won't burn like we have
today in an hour.
May:
Every year more wood is
added
because the boats need longer
docks to keep them,
and soon the wood is combined
with the neighbours wood
and we are forced to share.
The rocks used to be up to my waist
but now they sit above the water.
June:
The clay is dirty on my fingers
and all the shells are gathering piles
on the edge of the raft
and there is sun on the waterproof screen
that he forces and he
is sitting on the dock because the raft
is so shallow
that it isn't
fun anymore.
July:
"I'll beat you to the water!"
"No you won't..."
She beats beating the cold
everytime.
August:
I refuse to sleep on the bed,
my spine does not
bend that way
after months of living
on the sand.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
The Beach
No more lost
than when you
found me,
alive in the wake
of the water,
staring up from
the sand and the
shells,
hair covered with
clay and ducks
dancing as though
they didn't know
this was our dock,
not theirs to
inhabit.
than when you
found me,
alive in the wake
of the water,
staring up from
the sand and the
shells,
hair covered with
clay and ducks
dancing as though
they didn't know
this was our dock,
not theirs to
inhabit.
You better look elsewhere.
The man with the no-eyebrows
and tattoes for outlines instead,
he says,
"you take up space
when you enter a room"
and so does she,
"The hardass wanted me", she says,
before we notice her mingling,
and he just smiles,
clearly obnoxious and no more appreciated
than when we got here.
and tattoes for outlines instead,
he says,
"you take up space
when you enter a room"
and so does she,
"The hardass wanted me", she says,
before we notice her mingling,
and he just smiles,
clearly obnoxious and no more appreciated
than when we got here.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
The Worker Men Came and They Left
The worker man sits at the door trying
to unbuckle the buckling floor,
the house will look great they told us
as they brought in cheap versions
of mexican slab, and plastic patterned with floor tiles,
their knocking comes earlier than expected but
with them they bring the new lock for the front door.
The worker men came and they left -
they left a brand new floor and a hole
in the wall,
two days in a row they came and two days
in a row they left the smell of fingers
dipped in drywall,
rolled in nails and hammers and
the dirt that comes with houses that
were never properly cleaned.
They came and they left us a stern look,
a warning and new batteries for the smoke detector,
and they left a broken table
and tiles to cover the hole that came with
the new vanity they left
in the bathroom.
to unbuckle the buckling floor,
the house will look great they told us
as they brought in cheap versions
of mexican slab, and plastic patterned with floor tiles,
their knocking comes earlier than expected but
with them they bring the new lock for the front door.
The worker men came and they left -
they left a brand new floor and a hole
in the wall,
two days in a row they came and two days
in a row they left the smell of fingers
dipped in drywall,
rolled in nails and hammers and
the dirt that comes with houses that
were never properly cleaned.
They came and they left us a stern look,
a warning and new batteries for the smoke detector,
and they left a broken table
and tiles to cover the hole that came with
the new vanity they left
in the bathroom.
The Letter in the Kitchen Window
the keys in the door let things in other than the wind,
like the sound of footsteps through the back alley through the back window of the kitchen
(you've been living in the alley for six months and seven days and you didn't tell me),
i suspected you were there - every time the keys moved i knew it.
she talks of pasta
and she tells me to look out the window and i find you of course not entirely unexpected,
i don't want to know that you have been there for six months and seven days -
was it you that was there when i closed my blinds in the morning or stared out into the darkness that the backlight from the kitchen made?
like the sound of footsteps through the back alley through the back window of the kitchen
(you've been living in the alley for six months and seven days and you didn't tell me),
i suspected you were there - every time the keys moved i knew it.
she talks of pasta
and she tells me to look out the window and i find you of course not entirely unexpected,
i don't want to know that you have been there for six months and seven days -
was it you that was there when i closed my blinds in the morning or stared out into the darkness that the backlight from the kitchen made?
Monday, April 10, 2006
Scattered Things
woman you come here
invited but still,
you are searching,
you are asking yourself if you believe
in god.
i'm only asking cause it scared me,
you tell me before switching your jeans
for linen.
invited but still,
you are searching,
you are asking yourself if you believe
in god.
i'm only asking cause it scared me,
you tell me before switching your jeans
for linen.
10:0am, The Inside of the Ball
I thought you'd never come here,
so I was shocked to find you in
the reeds with sand crystallizing
your body,
tiny pieces of rock glistening
in the sun while you searched for
golf balls;
knee deep in murky water,
trying to find the golf balls before
the dog picked them up and tore
apart the thermoplastic cover with
his teeth,
leaving the core
so without a shell that we could
unwind the polybutadiene by simply
finding an unraveling
and throwing what was left back
and forth to each other.
(The neighbours watch from their
window - they are drinking wine
behind the window).
so I was shocked to find you in
the reeds with sand crystallizing
your body,
tiny pieces of rock glistening
in the sun while you searched for
golf balls;
knee deep in murky water,
trying to find the golf balls before
the dog picked them up and tore
apart the thermoplastic cover with
his teeth,
leaving the core
so without a shell that we could
unwind the polybutadiene by simply
finding an unraveling
and throwing what was left back
and forth to each other.
(The neighbours watch from their
window - they are drinking wine
behind the window).
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Friday, April 07, 2006
The Summer The Devil Finds Us
I see him walking along the bookshelves
from the reflection in the window,
I noticed all of my things went missing,
he says, yes one by one I stole his things.
His posture is straight like the distance it
takes for us to get to know each other -
our bodies are so different but we like it.
from the reflection in the window,
I noticed all of my things went missing,
he says, yes one by one I stole his things.
His posture is straight like the distance it
takes for us to get to know each other -
our bodies are so different but we like it.
Lena Left Marie At Home And They Forgot Each Other
always dragging her mother to places she doesn't belong,
the girl needs some jeans,
how is it that she took her here?
shouldn't it be the other way around.
where does my daughter come from she wonders
as she sinks into the velvet at the front of the changing room door,
thinking of the items in the backyard that need reorganizing,
curtains shadow their faces, the mother and the sister,
she watches and aspires with each item tried on.
two sixty nine, my mama waits by the couch, while the girl
pretends that she is paying on her own.
i tried again to take my mama places
i knew she wouldn't belong,
maybe forced her into the lights to show her who she wasn't
and who she should have been,
tried to push myself further into the crowd
until i noticed her disappearing again in the corner of the store,
shading her eyes and wondering how her daughter got this way,
i almost sunk my hands into the tables but then i saw who i wasn't
standing by the door and i had to drag her out of there.
she says all the women hate her and its only the men that get along
but she never had many friends anyway.
my mother was real skinny when
she was younger, but my sister got the genes, stop screaming in the store about
the differences between us. if we are to be home
for dinner, we need to leave immediately. but mother you promised me some
more. three fourty seven and again the same routine, mama sitting on the couch
wondering why she came here.
my mother is in the kitchen fixing the computer while my father sits
with his wife on the front step enjoying drinks; my mother
disappears in the store while my father racks up purchases on his credit
card, my mother wants jeans for christmas so i lie to her about the
price so she will take them.
all the time i feel my body becoming more like yours while my mind becomes like hers.
the girl needs some jeans,
how is it that she took her here?
shouldn't it be the other way around.
where does my daughter come from she wonders
as she sinks into the velvet at the front of the changing room door,
thinking of the items in the backyard that need reorganizing,
curtains shadow their faces, the mother and the sister,
she watches and aspires with each item tried on.
two sixty nine, my mama waits by the couch, while the girl
pretends that she is paying on her own.
i tried again to take my mama places
i knew she wouldn't belong,
maybe forced her into the lights to show her who she wasn't
and who she should have been,
tried to push myself further into the crowd
until i noticed her disappearing again in the corner of the store,
shading her eyes and wondering how her daughter got this way,
i almost sunk my hands into the tables but then i saw who i wasn't
standing by the door and i had to drag her out of there.
she says all the women hate her and its only the men that get along
but she never had many friends anyway.
my mother was real skinny when
she was younger, but my sister got the genes, stop screaming in the store about
the differences between us. if we are to be home
for dinner, we need to leave immediately. but mother you promised me some
more. three fourty seven and again the same routine, mama sitting on the couch
wondering why she came here.
my mother is in the kitchen fixing the computer while my father sits
with his wife on the front step enjoying drinks; my mother
disappears in the store while my father racks up purchases on his credit
card, my mother wants jeans for christmas so i lie to her about the
price so she will take them.
all the time i feel my body becoming more like yours while my mind becomes like hers.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
She Speeds By Us in His Car (I wonder if she feels as lost as I do)
everybody wonders why things
came out the way they did,
out loud -
but i'm in love with her, a girl, yes i know -
but she's in love with him, but he's so,
but she's so, but he's so
rich? i know,
intelligable, i know, out of the loop,
yep thats right.
a hideous laugh and makeup running into faces,
and a cheap belt, yes i know -
we all have closets, we all come here,
we all get ready in the morning -
i like to let it sit for half an hour,
what?
that girl just got unravelled,
easily, easy -
she likes to explain herself,
what a star, a spectacle,
you didn't mean it i mean
i mean no do you
get it do you understand?
she loves him,
complicated love song
like muscle,
(don't tell me who don't know
what i mean!).
came out the way they did,
out loud -
but i'm in love with her, a girl, yes i know -
but she's in love with him, but he's so,
but she's so, but he's so
rich? i know,
intelligable, i know, out of the loop,
yep thats right.
a hideous laugh and makeup running into faces,
and a cheap belt, yes i know -
we all have closets, we all come here,
we all get ready in the morning -
i like to let it sit for half an hour,
what?
that girl just got unravelled,
easily, easy -
she likes to explain herself,
what a star, a spectacle,
you didn't mean it i mean
i mean no do you
get it do you understand?
she loves him,
complicated love song
like muscle,
(don't tell me who don't know
what i mean!).
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