momma may i
jump across that dividing line of symmetry
over the borders of self loathing
and the loathe i tasted in him
it was a tuesday night
it was a war wound
a life wound
a dirty push towards the edge
he kissed me like he knew he was kissing a stranger
i woke up without the fight
and all my sunken poetry concealed itself inside the pacific
cold top confessions of the confession less
momma may i
trust you with my words
because i am your daughter
because ive made mistakes a mother would question willingly in her own eyes
i love this city
but in my love i am bordered
by time and money and myself most of all
because here i am alone
you think that i reach to far towards the deepening depression of repression
after i write this
i will fill a bath and remember my senses
cleanse myself of my disease
of dis ease
and i will pretend it is like any other day
but it is not
momma may i
wait for you to hold me tighter
but the truth has always been that space cannot be taken back
again the womb will never hold my body soft
pure
this day has brought on a heavy weight of metal or lead
and there is no vice that can make me tell you where my soul holds me now
you tell me to go and make myself known
to live the day towards the other days
but there was a shift that night
when my body lied broken
by possibilities
and human distinction
3am
i woke up
never the same
momma may i
be honest
always you would say
if i could take your voice and morph it into my own understanding
its the theme of my life lately
double sided
rear view mirror of someone lost
me
and no one can save me here
no one can grasp my hand
and take care of this for me
take care of me
because this is my internal war
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Sunday, August 7, 2005
elevate.
elevate this
eight million
categorizing in your brain
creating lines
when truth lives solely in the bend
so this is tuesday
mixing jazz with the hurdling roar of the F train running a line
that borders the geographical center of alcoholism
singing an old nina simone song
un expected
me there in my 7th street loft
the body of a girl
and the woman i would become while i waited for the rain
five stories up the steepening stairs
along with the sleeplessness of wired telephone lines
ravaging hunger
pennies in the pockets
broke
watching the way i create life out of itself
around the corner
past the man with a freckled nose
between tompkins square park
and that hairy-lipped woman that resides forever at the windowsill
here i arrive
after the flat irons of boulder
after three nights shacked on a peruvian bed
after early morning matte in the pan handle
after wine drunken nights skinning dipping in the reservoir
after desert nights and a full moon expecting
here
lost in this city i just had an idea of
elevate this
oh! lower east side
how i wished to lay long
naked on your brownstone bed
a muse for broken days
between exposed brick
and the words echoing off of someone else’s page
grit wedged in the spaces defining my teeth
it doesn’t matter where I go
this city haunts me
with temptations to fall hard in love
as
the world falls hard
crashing against two ankles
shattered expectancy
of how well the mind knows what it knows
and knows nothing at all
elevate this
eight million breaths before you die
below the bowery
breeding life into the indifference
living is such risk
the street
a bus a second off schedule
the airplane i will board tonight
poetry itself is a risk
staying here is a risk
eight million
categorizing in your brain
creating lines
when truth lives solely in the bend
so this is tuesday
mixing jazz with the hurdling roar of the F train running a line
that borders the geographical center of alcoholism
singing an old nina simone song
un expected
me there in my 7th street loft
the body of a girl
and the woman i would become while i waited for the rain
five stories up the steepening stairs
along with the sleeplessness of wired telephone lines
ravaging hunger
pennies in the pockets
broke
watching the way i create life out of itself
around the corner
past the man with a freckled nose
between tompkins square park
and that hairy-lipped woman that resides forever at the windowsill
here i arrive
after the flat irons of boulder
after three nights shacked on a peruvian bed
after early morning matte in the pan handle
after wine drunken nights skinning dipping in the reservoir
after desert nights and a full moon expecting
here
lost in this city i just had an idea of
elevate this
oh! lower east side
how i wished to lay long
naked on your brownstone bed
a muse for broken days
between exposed brick
and the words echoing off of someone else’s page
grit wedged in the spaces defining my teeth
it doesn’t matter where I go
this city haunts me
with temptations to fall hard in love
as
the world falls hard
crashing against two ankles
shattered expectancy
of how well the mind knows what it knows
and knows nothing at all
elevate this
eight million breaths before you die
below the bowery
breeding life into the indifference
living is such risk
the street
a bus a second off schedule
the airplane i will board tonight
poetry itself is a risk
staying here is a risk
china town.
its how it has always been
the women on the edge of the alley
peering thru blind eyes
the language is sharp and to the point
the smells remain the same
dried fish
plum sauce
frying rice in a thickening of oil
the children are dancing on the street in dirty feet
there is no room for cars
but they come anyways
equipped with horns and heavy exhaust
mostly yellow
carrying people from upper east side
commuters heading south
its how it has always been
although changed
a pot bellied man carrying a wheelbarrow
to lighten a load his shoulders are to old and weary to take weight to
a girl thin skinned and hazel eyed watches me watch her
then looks down towards wobbly knees
i don’t know why ive come here today
i walked out the door of my apartment without direction or cause
purposeful with my misunderstandings of this city
i walk thru realms of others indulgences
i want to taste the thickening of the dried pigs ear
but do not
the rules i concern myself with
they are how they’ve always have been
i do not buy used underwear
i do not wear the color pink
i do not have sex without love
i do not tempt myself with drying pigs ears
they are for the dogs
where do these places of do not carry thru
from a grandmother who has never indulged in the pleasures of sex before marriage
a lover with fear lingering in the eyes
my second grade teacher who told me God was looking at me from above
watching me
retracing me
memorizing me
my lines
of thoughts and worldly imperatives
its how its always been
and its how it will always be they say
but i will disagree this time
i will release a bitten tongue
i will pull anothers underwear underneath my dress
up against my fleshy nakedness
i will wear fuchsia
hot pink
pale pink
blush pink
peachy pink
pink pink
all backwards and inside out
i will take you up five flights of stairs and lay you long on my orange bed
and fuck you
deep into me
i will taste those drying ears
suckle them like i would suckle you
and then throw you to the dogs
because this is not of me
because this is not how its always been
because something has to change
change from within
we hold on to patterns and dates and times and schedules and political reasoning
and why we love
what we love
and who we love
and where we love
and what is love?
without question
we live our days
we habit our ways
i don’t know why i have come here today
the hot humidness sticking to me
the air conditioners leak from above giving me one taste of what coolness feels like to the skin
i would have not let it touch me with gratitude coming from where i came from
but here
i will take all the un pleasurable with pleasure
the women on the edge of the alley
peering thru blind eyes
the language is sharp and to the point
the smells remain the same
dried fish
plum sauce
frying rice in a thickening of oil
the children are dancing on the street in dirty feet
there is no room for cars
but they come anyways
equipped with horns and heavy exhaust
mostly yellow
carrying people from upper east side
commuters heading south
its how it has always been
although changed
a pot bellied man carrying a wheelbarrow
to lighten a load his shoulders are to old and weary to take weight to
a girl thin skinned and hazel eyed watches me watch her
then looks down towards wobbly knees
i don’t know why ive come here today
i walked out the door of my apartment without direction or cause
purposeful with my misunderstandings of this city
i walk thru realms of others indulgences
i want to taste the thickening of the dried pigs ear
but do not
the rules i concern myself with
they are how they’ve always have been
i do not buy used underwear
i do not wear the color pink
i do not have sex without love
i do not tempt myself with drying pigs ears
they are for the dogs
where do these places of do not carry thru
from a grandmother who has never indulged in the pleasures of sex before marriage
a lover with fear lingering in the eyes
my second grade teacher who told me God was looking at me from above
watching me
retracing me
memorizing me
my lines
of thoughts and worldly imperatives
its how its always been
and its how it will always be they say
but i will disagree this time
i will release a bitten tongue
i will pull anothers underwear underneath my dress
up against my fleshy nakedness
i will wear fuchsia
hot pink
pale pink
blush pink
peachy pink
pink pink
all backwards and inside out
i will take you up five flights of stairs and lay you long on my orange bed
and fuck you
deep into me
i will taste those drying ears
suckle them like i would suckle you
and then throw you to the dogs
because this is not of me
because this is not how its always been
because something has to change
change from within
we hold on to patterns and dates and times and schedules and political reasoning
and why we love
what we love
and who we love
and where we love
and what is love?
without question
we live our days
we habit our ways
i don’t know why i have come here today
the hot humidness sticking to me
the air conditioners leak from above giving me one taste of what coolness feels like to the skin
i would have not let it touch me with gratitude coming from where i came from
but here
i will take all the un pleasurable with pleasure
Friday, August 5, 2005
a riveting mind.
maybe the world takes us where we dont want to go sometimes
and maybe the stories in our heads will always be just stories
when a day is at its folding
and all that adds up has nowhere to follow
there is this one moment where our emotions remain slighted
between words and sounds
to the softness in the air of “good-bye”
the split of your breath ending
and mine just beginning
as the sun folds down against the sky in goodnight
there is a moment of chance hardly ever taken
time takes its course thru the bend of this river
past the cattails of misconceptions
to the beauty of a woman
revealed in the softness of her eyes
take me back to the beat
before there was a man at my side
before the womb held my body
delicately
deliberately
we all have sailors of a past life
bringing us goods that are not fulfilled by the soils of our own understandings
a mistress longs for a lover
but has no knowledge of its depth
we all long for something we have never tasted
but by our minds riveting ways
there is a vision distilled into an echoing inclination
of a reality known to my own kind
where dreamscapes never make the scene
in a race of human retribution
crazy and obscene
like the language of my tongue
heavy and indulged
my world revolves around the depth of my pen
dark ink
darker now to BLACK
where the pins of my eyes float in a haze of smoky blue
looking into a world out of confinement
and gratitude
the coastline hits the surface of an ever ending misunderstanding
taking me into my own wanting
of things that i am not of
i walk on edge in the strength of your voice
i talk of men and speak of all things i am not about
ive betrayed my truth
taken shame into my voice
the lines run thin up here
i am sick of lines and shapes
parallels to live by
they say im getting big
in what way do they mean
do i offend them with my hip size
with the roundness of my breasts
with the love my lovers caress
im charged with form
you underestimate my moves
i walk on my stride
on the bridges that un-gap the time
ive been wandering through theses streets of ancient names
dating back before the birth of this body
before my soul could touch with cold hands and bare feet
before streets turned gray and stars faded with the lights of these corners
ive been talking about getting out of this rut for to long to keep counting
my father is an artist
a musician at heart
my grandfather and grandmother were singers
before they knew the rocky roads they have crossed over
my mother is a lover
a woman of virtue and truth
of innocence and light
my german roots have left me off somewhere between two worlds
and I am debating between the colors of grass on either side
the sun holds a new twist in her rays
im twenty four and counting still
beyond my fingers and toes
past old boyfriends and rebellious thoughts
i catch myself somewhat grown
retracing the outline of my nipples
supple with a mind of there own
warm to the touch of august fever
and the heat of a heart gone mad
everyday i learn something new
everyday i let go of a heaviness weighted beyond me
taking me into the subtleties of being human
of being a woman born under the power of two
i don’t want to look past you to see my reflection on the other side
i pray to hold my head up to the heavens
where angels meet and reminisce about our lives
and maybe the stories in our heads will always be just stories
when a day is at its folding
and all that adds up has nowhere to follow
there is this one moment where our emotions remain slighted
between words and sounds
to the softness in the air of “good-bye”
the split of your breath ending
and mine just beginning
as the sun folds down against the sky in goodnight
there is a moment of chance hardly ever taken
time takes its course thru the bend of this river
past the cattails of misconceptions
to the beauty of a woman
revealed in the softness of her eyes
take me back to the beat
before there was a man at my side
before the womb held my body
delicately
deliberately
we all have sailors of a past life
bringing us goods that are not fulfilled by the soils of our own understandings
a mistress longs for a lover
but has no knowledge of its depth
we all long for something we have never tasted
but by our minds riveting ways
there is a vision distilled into an echoing inclination
of a reality known to my own kind
where dreamscapes never make the scene
in a race of human retribution
crazy and obscene
like the language of my tongue
heavy and indulged
my world revolves around the depth of my pen
dark ink
darker now to BLACK
where the pins of my eyes float in a haze of smoky blue
looking into a world out of confinement
and gratitude
the coastline hits the surface of an ever ending misunderstanding
taking me into my own wanting
of things that i am not of
i walk on edge in the strength of your voice
i talk of men and speak of all things i am not about
ive betrayed my truth
taken shame into my voice
the lines run thin up here
i am sick of lines and shapes
parallels to live by
they say im getting big
in what way do they mean
do i offend them with my hip size
with the roundness of my breasts
with the love my lovers caress
im charged with form
you underestimate my moves
i walk on my stride
on the bridges that un-gap the time
ive been wandering through theses streets of ancient names
dating back before the birth of this body
before my soul could touch with cold hands and bare feet
before streets turned gray and stars faded with the lights of these corners
ive been talking about getting out of this rut for to long to keep counting
my father is an artist
a musician at heart
my grandfather and grandmother were singers
before they knew the rocky roads they have crossed over
my mother is a lover
a woman of virtue and truth
of innocence and light
my german roots have left me off somewhere between two worlds
and I am debating between the colors of grass on either side
the sun holds a new twist in her rays
im twenty four and counting still
beyond my fingers and toes
past old boyfriends and rebellious thoughts
i catch myself somewhat grown
retracing the outline of my nipples
supple with a mind of there own
warm to the touch of august fever
and the heat of a heart gone mad
everyday i learn something new
everyday i let go of a heaviness weighted beyond me
taking me into the subtleties of being human
of being a woman born under the power of two
i don’t want to look past you to see my reflection on the other side
i pray to hold my head up to the heavens
where angels meet and reminisce about our lives
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