heartsingarlic

toeing the line of the summer solstice
are you my Polaris. a north star for capricornus?

oh Zuma! I can’t stop my burning. can you see it? a smoke signal. sandy blanket to the flames. a cloud. a beach. an umbrella secret. our feet tangled. trace those words on my skin. you only mouthed in my direction on a whim. 

I caught. I clasped. you with me. Coloring butterflies with crayons in the gallery. and have you also been caught? and counted. A watercolor where I, Iris, resting on your stem Narcissus, my phases. my hornet. my pomegranate. 

 

 

 

come home and tie my shoelaces. they've come undone.

a meal in which there are large chunks of ham. divorce paperwork. a man in the next room working an inflata-bed, vacuuming furiously.

we went grocery shopping together then came home and jogged. when have I ever known what I was doing? yet I expect things will be fine once I make it to PA. in my own strange way I'm fine now or going between being fine and not being fine.

he didn't want this to happen my husband was jailed today for jay-walking. in court he demanded an apology from the judge and was thrown out by the bailiff.

one of these days I'm going to stick it out with someone. until then I plan to demonstrate some restraint.

memories are poisonous anyway. the good, the bad, the ugly. relationships exist on habit and the cumulative weight of collapsed time. they're usually built on something that no longer exists, isn't real. maybe it's possible to overcome this together and live in the present.

or maybe relationships are meant to drag your ass down

A period of mourning will now commence.

I'll not be allowed to write anything happy for at least another lifetime.

My closest approximation to the "right" thing to do has now been done. Part of me thinks I'm a lion for this, that I'm brave. The other part of me is doing addition. It's adding this evening to my list of regrets.

moving from one relationship to another, from one state to another. in some way I wonder whether this isn't just an exchange of imaginary money - one fantasy for another. numbers in bank accounts, debt that accumulates magically. did I work hard enough for it? did I work for it at all? is it real, exchangeable for another? have I paid or will I be paying for it later?

I imagine myself in a bathing
suit but I do not want this

sitting by the edge of a pool
or taking laps the dilemma,

of course, the back and forth
coolly against my skin wanting

only guarantees loss hot and
indeed the naive fantasy is

meant to be sloughed off
in a cold shower the chlorine

Every night when you get home huh? Really? Every night? Thank goodness you checked it today or you may not have caught my most recent tragic post for another week at least...

Oh, save your sputtering, I'm allowed to tease.
And anyway I love the idea of you reading my journal. It's a sort of lop-sided, sporadic intimacy, but better than nothing.

both of us watching, helplessly,
from a distance. our own actions

funny how easily want translates as need

how easy, despite having better sense, diving headfirst into heartache somehow remains

there's a table between you and I. on it, a knife.
either way I'm going to end up on the floor.

I still miss my husband sometimes. He used to sing to me.

my time with Paul has become precious. I marvel at the fact that his order is my chaos (hundreds of plastic drawers, unlabeled, with every color pen or mark-making material imaginable). somehow he makes sense of it. I've come to love his idiosyncrasies (price-check on isle three?). his artwork, his teaching always. we both wonder how I'll stay sane in Pittsburgh without him. so many beginnings. I have a strong belief in the shortness of life, yet mine is taking longer to resolve than I anticipated. I am the slowest person in a rush I know.

slow. really. nothing comes to me unless it is Absolutely Ready.

in some ways I think academia is a cop-out. it is so much easier to think when you have something to react to. independent thinking, despite circumstance and life-ritual is much harder, much more challenging. I've seen people overcome by it more often than not. by habit.

I've been reading interviews of my future poetry professor. BORDERS has found me surfing its shelves for a better dictionary. (I bought two, plus a new Thesaurus) I both resent and appreciate the fact that I've had to purchase books just to translate what the fuck these people are talking about.

accepting, without question, what comes to you

As of now, I plan on leaving Atlanta in late September. Naturally, this brings up a lot with me. Been wasting a lot of time on future patrol, losing sleep. Hopefully I'll pull through for my self when it really matters, cause I'm feeling a bit lost at the moment.

I can't accept I
had nothing to do with it
therefore, I apologize
for having been loved.

You'll be able to see me for miles - I'll put off that much smoke and Light.

18 years of channeling, of hiding, things in their places

I'm going to write about suicide ideation next, and why it's actually healthy.

Then I'm going to urge people to stop putting things off until tomorrow.

Sometimes it's just more important to go see a blues show. And fuck Psychology by the way, I need to stand up straight. Fuck over-the-top pleasure-seeking too. Maybe it's not such a god-damn celebration of life after all (and my ass is getting bigger...).

Chicago in my blood. Art snobs all around. I think I’m turning into one.

I told someone recently that they shouldn’t wait to be in a relationship until they’re perfect because it’ll never happen. Then why do I have such high expectations for lovers and friends? How close do you have to get for God’s sake? Make me happy. Go ahead.

I’m angry and I want to tear things up. Maybe it’s always been this way. So keep your distance.

Just kidding. Go ahead, make me happy. Grow a tail and wag it for me.

Hold on, I have to go pop a few sleeping pills.

You think I’m jaded? You should see the one I left.