Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Raise the sails

she likes the act of movement and the word movement. she was wrists and shinbones and unbalmed lips.
Big things you cant control or ever hold down. a little thing that often flys away. oh my god, girl, i have feelings that hurt and feel good all in the same breath. you.
she can take a touch of pain. a drop of honey in her tea. a sweetheart and lover and slut undying.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

my world is small and smells like me

It's been a long and strange reconnection. I pray to saints and stars. I climb out on that skinny limb with you, almost broken, almost falling. All we had hoped for was some kind of proof in each other. proof we have made mistakes. That everything was real, everything was really .... real.

I've taken to listening to audio books while driving, books I've previously read silently to myself, now read aloud by the author. I do it for the story retold, to hear tempo and voice inflection. This is how she might have wanted me to hear it and it makes me happy to know. Words lessen the silence and madness between traffic lights, between gasoline fumes and pretty girls talking on cell phones, a lady in curlers, a man shaving, couples kissing, kids screaming, a singing woman, a young girl crying, someone taking a deep breath. Things we do in cars.

This week Miranda July keeps me company, she knows how to use her voice and im afraid i may have read everything wrong. last week it was Sedaris, he makes me laugh and i wonder if people stopped next to me, see me laughing at seemingly nothing. I have the Zen of Motorcycle Maintenance and a biography on Saint Theresa lined up. Whatever the library has to offer for 14 to 28 day loan. Though it doesn't take me nearly that long. I'm prone to smaller stories and traffic jams.