i want to make room for you

Maybe home is a thought, not a place
Where you can move and still be safe
Only I know in another time
I can feel its edges and it's fine
I want to steal from you, only you
Make room for you

anti-love

I should just give up. I woke up this morning and couldn't find the guts to get out of bed until 5:49 pm. My head felt like an ocean of ghosts were swimming around in there. They just wait up in there carrying my will to continue away from me. The ghosts carry the catalyst to my motionless infection away from me. I should just give up.

So here I am like a little girl again, watching the light on the walls shift from one end of the room to another. I watch the jaundice yellow light slip slowly over the back of the serpent of time. My only stimuli is in my ears, waiting for the minor infraction to pass away again to the tick ticking of the clock.

I'm not how I used to be. I used to be bright. I used to be wise. I used to be awake and adorably alive to the day. I used to fill the spaces of the corners of time with laughter and meaning. Now I am just waiting for a dollar. I'm living one day at a time senselessly and without reason. I'm living without love.

just give up

"...until she has demonstrated that she is willing to sacrifice politeness for honesty."

BABY/ IT'S A SIN

I ain't never played a jewel thief

fucking men. Jesus christ, Maxine.
I'm headed for a breakdown
through a portal of repulsive guilt,
 lust, and hard up  broken guts.

I'll protect you dollface...
Bye bye.

good thing/ bad thing
shit soul
brain or whatever
I wanted to be her
I wanna be her tomorrow,

I'll meet you on the side of the road.
no. No I wanna go.
I can hear the rain.

this is it.
the end of innocence.
consciousness kicks in with the drugs and I knew who I was
in the dark

significant


someone else.
wasn't I?

once?



take me back to good.
everybody wants to be someone else.

Glass Candy - Digital Versicolor

run away

how?

I never should have left you
For a sea of cowards, and old friends
Trying, Kicking heroin, beating their brains.
Those old timers who were once daily faces and then faded away when we fell in love
Are back in the same night
And room
As I am.
I left you and now I have my life,
For myself. Wasted and mean.
Depreciating.
Junkies s
Come to
And realize they are sick.
They see what they are doing
But keep
Keep keep shooting up on clean days
And then
Take me up the 605 freeway
To score.
I never should have left you
To become a declination of what I used to be
When I used to be a good woman
For you, for me,
For my mother,
For our house and our home,
Our love and our fire.
I remember our fire
And can't remember now
Why I blew it out.
And now, look at me...
What am i ?
What am I
Without you
But a snake charmer
And a cruel vessel
Taking my pearls down with me
As I'm sinking.
I never should have left you
And what used to be our warm, happy home
With a working garbage disposal and a dog
We had a bedroom like summer most nights,
And the bathroom that synthesized our separate beings into one room of ritualistic morning toothpaste and clean hot water fogging up the mirror.
Your mother told me I'd regret it when I did this.
Your mother told me I'd regret this.
And now
Now that I've flown away
to everything away from you
I want to fly home
Back to good.
But you are going out with Lauren tomorrow and I am dope sick.
-Michelle

WHILE COLOR LIGHTS UP YOUR FACE

Going to the LACMA next week to see William Eggleston's prints.

heavenly body

THIS IS A FOUND POEM FROM THE MOON BOOK (1977).

Space Flight

eight years,

Beginning in 1969.

Luna

Dr. French

ancient Brazilian impact crater twenty-five miles in diameter and 150,000,000 years old.

lunar samples

thirty-five technical papers

terrestrial meteorite craters,

and lunar samples

The Year Of Punk 19/12/77

uhhhh.... nevermind, Seattle.

The Lady

the feeling remains even after the glitter fades

“the timeless face of a rock ‘n roll woman while her heart breaks/ 

oh, you know The Dream keeps coming even when you forget to feel”

drip, drip, drip

x

This is electric degradation

This is black eye segregation

Dripping down 

beneath the slaughter 

comes blood into my eyes

Like heat onto 

my cool cold lips

I taste the fire of the lies

serpens saeculum obscurum

Every word  
from that pretty little mouth
comes out.

Every word
pushed out

comes out
a lie.

His pathetic,
snide,

slick-slippery mouth

is milky, 

dirty 

poison.

His duplicity

is a trick-show,
I know.
I didn't always know.

My eyes see it now:

oh, how those false colors

snowed me,

showed me

how to hate

you and your milky mouth. 

Every word: 

not truth, untruth.
And not some of those tiny little baby bombs of white lies.

No,
yours are black 
black black lies,

tar-like epoxide,
sticky, sinewy
black gum.
That dark, miserable, hot paste
is the manipulative serpentine bondage of the Snake.


Evil drab syrup
of the snake control.

blackest of the black lies

un-forgiven

not forgotten

No.

Every word  -

to that very last acted letter 

that came from fucked up mouth 

that came from fucked up head (his smut head)

is a scam is a scam

is a scam
The bullshit he pulled out of that mouth
and shoved into mine. 

into falling in with 
sorry 
sordid eyes.

You opportunist.
You opportunistic gold brick.

And you ain't nothing to me now.


You ain't nothin'.


You ain't nothin' but
a sweet talkin' rat,

a  backsliding wolf 
a cussed snake
a vile snake
a bad Snake.

i read your latest publication.

how did it say?

"i've hit the dark ages

of my life's history"

well then, my honey Serpentes, why so sour? 

Welcome to what happens 
when you cut me away in a slanted line.

Welcome to your life, Snake.

Welcome to your life:

600 years of degenerate, godless, inhuman behavior.

Welcome to your life.

(oh, 

something else...)

you really can

torture a woman

enslave a girl,

cut her throat, 

slit her wrists,

drown her flames under low dirty water,

burn her blessed hands,

blow her eyes with smoke,

throw her out, out a window, impale her flesh on wrought iron fence

leave her to decay

and then 

just

wash it all away

with your

pig-headed remorselessness.

You're a stale excuse for breath in this life.
My mind is inviolable now to your snake control.

i only have one last thing to say before I erase you and wipe you from my eyes: 

would you be a man?






x

GOODNIGHT, ANOTHER BAD MORNING

like a lost idea

under light bulb sun

circles of hell and evil pockets

You would sit amid

the nine circles of hell.

I would toss you into the second circle,

the circle of lust,

left alone to those violent winds,

highly deserving of that dry punishment

for your aimlessness.

I would curse you to the eighth circle,

the circle of fraud,

left alone to Geryon, an image of deception,

your own damn reflection
exposed in those Evil Pockets.

the second circle: lust

the eighth circle: fraud

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inferno Canto XVII:1-30 The poets approach Geryon

      ‘See the savage beast, with the pointed tail, that crosses mountains, and pierces walls and armour: see him, who pollutes the whole world.’ So my guide began to speak to me, and beckoned to him to land near the end of our rocky path, and that vile image of Fraud came on, and grounded his head and chest, but did not lift his tail onto the cliff.

      His face was the face of an honest man, it had so benign an outward aspect: all the rest was a serpent’s body. Both arms were covered with hair to the armpits; the back and chest and both flanks were adorned with knots and circles. Tartars or Turks never made cloths with more colour, background and embroidery: nor did Arachne spread such webs on her loom. As the boats rest on the shore, part in water and part on land, and as the beaver, among the guzzling Germans, readies himself for a fight, so that worst of savage creatures lay on the cliff that surrounds the great sand with stone.

      The whole of his tail glanced into space, twisting the venomous fork upwards, that armed the tip, like a scorpion. My guide said: ‘Now we must direct our path, somewhat, towards the malevolent beast that rests there.’

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Enlighten the dark corners of this neglected dwelling and scatter there Thy cheerful beams.

Saint Augustine

In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Your soul is a dark forest. But the trees are of a particular species, they are genealogical trees.

Marcel Proust

Salvador Dali "The Back of Geryon"

well i may be just a fool

you snake

You snake
You crawled
Between
My legs
Said "Want
It all?
It's yours 
You bet
I'll make 
You queen
Of everything
No need 
For God
No need 
For him
Just take 
My hand
You'll be 
My bride
Just take 
That fruit
Put it 
Inside"
You snake
You dog
You fake
You liar
I've burned 
my hands
I'm in 
the fire
You salty dog
You filthy liar
My heart 
It aches
I'm in 
The fire
You snake
I ate
A true
Belief
Good Lord
That fruit's
Inside
Of me
Oh Adam
Please
You must
Believe
That snake
Put it
In front
Of me
That snake
Put it
In front
Of me
In front 
Of me

But now we move to feel

Oh Comely

Oh comely
I will be with you when you lose your breath
Chasing the only meaningful memory you thought you had left
With some pretty bright and bubbly terrible scene
That was doing her thing on your chest
But oh comely 
It isn't as pretty as you'd like to guess
Oh comely
All of your friends are letting you blow
Bristling and ugly
Bursting with fruits falling out from the holes
Of some pretty bright and bubbly friend 
You could need to say comforting things in your ear
But oh comely 
There isn't such one friend that you could find here
Standing next to me
He's only my enemy 
I'll crush him with everything I own

Oh, say what you wanna say and
Hang for your hollow ways
Moving your mouth to pull out all your miracles
For me

Your father made fetuses 
With flesh licking ladies 
While you and your mother 
Were asleep in the trailer park

Thunderous sparks from the dark of the stadiums
The music and medicine you needed for comforting
So make all your fat fleshy fingers to moving
And pluck all your silly strings 
And bend all your notes for me
Soft silly music is meaningful magical
The movements were beautiful
All in your ovaries
All of them milking with green fleshy flowers
While powerful pistons were sugary sweet machines
Smelling of semen all under the garden
Was all you were needing when you still believed in me

Oh, say what you wanna say and
Hang for your hollow ways
Moving your mouth to pull out all your miracles
For me
And I know they buried her body with others
Her sister and mother and 500 families 
And will she remember me 50 years later
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine
Know all your enemies 
We know who are enemies are

Goldaline my dear 
We will fold and freeze together
Far away from here 
There is sun and spring and green forever 
But now we move to feel
For ourselves inside some stranger's stomach
Place your body here 
Let your skin begin to blend itself with mine

NEVER TEAR US APART

apartment bathroom on 23rd & Guerrero, San Francisco, CA autumn 2008

It was 2:45 a.m. We were laying on the floor in the living room, encapsulated in blankets and deep meaning. We were talking about each others' identities and the sharp corners of our personalities. Our conversation was like mass: reverent, almost holy. 

Then that song came on the radio like it was a choir coming in on cue. I heard it come on from the very first note. I felt the minor chord shift into a depressingly progressive higher chord. The music marked my insides. I am currently living as body split in two. I am here now, but tomorrow I'll be gone. I'm hopeful and tense as I am loathesome and limp. So when THAT song came on the radio, I felt it. I felt it in my teeth, in my candied eyes, my sweaty-palmed hands, and my honeyed blood. My heart sank like a broken vessel. 

We both knew it - what the other was thinking. We were sharing an eye in that crack of an instant.  Our heads slipped inside the same frame and we saw it bright and heavy. We saw it together. It's a tight wind knowing exactly what the other is thinking. It's a hard light of brass tacks beaming into the holes in your mind-plate. The light particles peek in and it's like you've just seen six white suns. 

It was an honest moment. 

She said, "I don't even want to think about it right now." Neither did I. But the fact is that I hadn't FELT it until just then. In that moment in the living room with THAT song playing and our shared cell of cognizance, it hit me: I'm moving away. I'm going up north... "following my heart"... 

Whatever that means. I AM following my heart... in one direction... and then I'm completely neglecting it in the other. I am on the bullet train to God as I'm Autobahn blasting to the Antichrist. 

God damnit. I felt it. I felt the weight in my chest. i felt the weight in my chest of saying "goodbye". And I felt it in thinking of "nevermind". Change. Split. Serration.

As the reality of changing draws nearer to the dawn, the taste of all that I love and am leaving behind is turning bitter, sour, and sad. I realize I am leaving, but I hope it's not mistaken for adandonment. But that's when you know who will keep you and who you will keep. That's when you know it's real, when they let you go for the realm of never before. Because our sisterhood is sharp and strong, made of titanium and bolted with centuries of armies, it is certain as salt...they could never tear us apart.

i'm so lucky

keep on your mean side

god bless her.

Oh Benny / She's really keen

I’m hungover as shit/ 7 of us went to Becky’s last night, walked to Fitzgerald’s (bar) and the place was open but we were the only people there… it was like a private bar all to ourselves… so I DJed music from the jukebox all night, screamed Benny & The Jets at the top of my lungs with Becky, took a shot of whiskey after already having 5 beers. We all walked back to Becky’s at 1:15am, threw on our swimsuits, hopped in the jacuzzi. Cops came around 3 am 'cause we were really fucking loud.

It was great. I almost puked at work this morning after being 45 minutes late.

No dreams. 

London hates you

Captures the paradoxes that exist...

nothing/everything
the void/the divide

escapism/continuance

apathy/ love
pointlessness/total meaning

They expect you to keep going... even when they've just kicked dirt in your eyes and stolen your fortune.

Universe-ity

Today is the day I should be starting at the university. I should be sitting in a cramped desk among nameless strangers. I should be there with pensive eyes, new pens and a cup of coffee. I should have the world in a book and the manifestations of academic aspirations coming up through the voices of new professors. I should be making my mother proud. I should be making my father shut up. I should be following their rules, and I should be saturating myself in the standards of suburbia and all its beguiling expectations.

But I am not attending the university today and my mother is very disappointed. She is full of fear and doubt since I have decided against attending the university. My father is indifferent. He cares only for himself. No, it is my mother who is very disappointed. I am disappointing my mother.

I think I might be breaking her heart. I have decided to move away to a northern city. I am moving for the good of my own soul and yet, in turn, my mother’s soul is becoming destroyed .

But she cannot see what I see. She cannot taste my future as I can taste it here in my mouth.

To be continued…

photo credit