no. 52

The ground feels the same
underneath our feet, I'm sure,
though there seems to be more of
it between us these days.
My skin is pink on the nape
of my neck where the sun
hits me on my way to work,
and I'm sure that on some
afternoons you feel it too,
puckered, soft, and flushed.
Sleep must be the same,
perhaps, with constant
tossing, turning, churning...
For my mind can't rest when
it thinks of you or the way
your glasses rest upon your ears.
The lines connecting you and I
are long and thin and taut,
and I know you're there
pulling me back and forth
like some childhood game
I've forgotten about.

sleep tight, tiger

First I would like to say that I have loved this album since I first got it back in 2005. It reminds me of the many summer nights spent with special people driving up and back Absecon Island with nothing but the sweet taste of innocence fleeting from our lips. I realized while driving the other night my affinity for Swedish music. Lykke Li, PB&J, Husky Rescue, Jose Gonzalez, Belle and Sebastian, (and I believe) Camera Obscura among others and others and others. But these have been on my list for frequent listening as of late. While musically (at least) have managed to cling to the past -- Otis Redding make me want to locate a time machine and pick out my 'fro -- I have started to cling to other things... like my love of what is basically a 9 to 5 schedule, the sound of my heels clicking against the tile floor while I walk up to my office in the morning--coffee in hand, wearing pencil skirts, and research assignments though I've always sort of enjoyed those. I wake and retire to my bed both in early hours. I like things this way. My life is becoming ever so simple. I don't seek to change it any time soon.

public transportation

I'm perpetually amazed and bewildered by the New York City subway system. I love feeling somewhat in the company of others but completely alone. I forgot to mention this.

take offs and landings?

I have been pondering what difference there really is between an arrival and a return. We look at the two each as very separate things, and there is significant emotional weight to each. After a great effort to keep myself sane while in transit for some hours over the weekend, I am here -- barely alive and well (at least yesterday) -- to tell the tale. Friday night was my big return to the Drew campus and New York City as well. It had been months (since graduation) since I had been back and I must say it was delightful having some handfuls of people happily waiting to greet me in each place. I think of the aforementioned terms as arrival meaning what it traditionally means, and returns as a departure I suppose. Arrivals and returns to places one doesn't call home come with much anticipation, the return home is oftentimes dreaded or a sad experience. I'm actually not sure what to make of any of this now. You can always go home, but wherever you visit won't always be the same.

things

Eucharist

My knees are chapped and bruised
from kneeling before you, an unnamed
god that I sacrifice my insides for.

To keep you close I must take you in,
holding you tight to my chest like an idol,
quaking and rocking as though entranced in prayer.

My forehead and lips burn with devotion
where you have anointed me.
It is here you have delivered me from the others.

You come, my sweet, motionless and sacred.
You go, restless and afraid.
Oh my darling full of grace, redeem me.


The Mighty Oak

There are roots,
thick and heavy roots
that clench themselves
to the driest soil.
They twist and turn
into complex shapes,
rigid and unforgiving.
No one can climb here
for the branches are brittle.
The bark is tough and remains
untouched for fear of tearing
skin, its been split in patches
by the curious, the few who've
tasted the tenderness within.
It may be because this tree
is filled with ancient secrets,
ghostly whispers fill its arms,
as they reach toward the skies.
It is silly to think
one should even try to reach
the top, it'd be easier
just to slip inside,
sleep a while.

darling,

if all of the

stress
pangs
heartbreak
years
years
years
disgust
confusion
desperation
vulnerability
anxiety
and desire

were for this one single moment in time,



so fucking be it.

Youth Novel

It has been brought to my attention (needless to say I've been aware of it for a while) that I have stopped updating here. I've stopped writing in general. If not for a general lack of interesting things to say or "blogworthy" topics, then just out of sheer laziness and the unwillingness to explore my own head. Since my hiatus I've started a new job, a real one in fact that my $200,000 education "prepared" me for. It's at the Ocean City Arts Center and it's so good that I'm quitting my other job. Remember? The nonsensical one that I have recently discovered to be littered with roaches, rats, and termites among crotchety old, impatient, stank-breathed customers. I'm turning my back on organic fruits and veggies as well as strange and bizarre meatless meats for something worlds better... for now.



I have found myself to be transforming into a small town girl with a big city heart and attitude of sorts, talking about my past life and future goals as what drag queens from the 1950s would refer to as a career girl (and I hope my hidden reference to the movie To Wong Foo...Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar was apparent, and if not it is now). Anyways, I notice that I have begun to say things like "I'm due in at the office" more frequently and something about having a job where my brain remains in my head for 6+ hours certainly tickles me... where it tickles me I'm not sure but just know I'm laughing about it.

Someone out there somewhere is reading this, so do me the favor of giving me something I should write about. I feel myself lapsing back into the LiveJournal style of recapping my days. And even I don't care much about that.