Monday, July 16, 2012


are you out there?
do you read this?
if you did, would you tell me?
would you contact me if I wanted you to?


the melancholy where past meets future
where last week
we dreamed together long enough
that i could almost feel you

we were on a retreat somewhere
hiding from everyone
including ourselves
and you reached out for my hand
and i pulled away
and i said

"no, i'm a different person now
a lot has changed in the past year
i've grown, i've changed"

and you said,

"I know, I have too"

and i replied,

"good, let's keep it that way, there is still more growth that needs to occur"

then i awoke.
and you were still gone.
and i wanted to go back to bed
just to have you close to me again
just for a little bit
even if I didn't want to touch
even if I couldn't go back
i just wanted you close again
just for a little bit.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

No Road
 Since we agreed to let the road between us
 Fall to disuse,
 And bricked our gates up, planted trees to screen us,
 And turned all time's eroding agents loose,
 Silence, and space, and strangers - our neglect
 Has not had much effect.

 Leaves drift unswept, perhaps; grass creeps unmown;
 No other change.
 So clear it stands, so little overgrown,
 Walking that way tonight would not seem strange,
 And still would be followed. A little longer,
 And time would be the stronger,

 Drafting a world where no such road will run
 From you to me;
 To watch that world come up like a cold sun,
 Rewarding others, is my liberty.
 Not to prevent it is my will's fulfillment.
 Willing it, my ailment.
-- Philip Larkin

Sunday, June 24, 2012

from the Fluxus handbook

Jed Curtis
Music for my son

Do not prepare for
the performance and
and even try to forget that
in a short time you will be
performing. When the time of the 
performance comes, simply do something
(no date)

Milan Kzinak
Marriage Ceremony

Everyone walks deep into the woods until
they come to a clearing. They sit in a
circle with the couple in the center. They
are silent. Then the lovers stand and kiss.
They exchange gifts, which must not be
They drink red wine from a goblet. Then
everyone drinks red wine. In the center of
the circle, they plant a tree, and, in a
different place, they light a fire.
Everyone eats, drinks, talks and enjoys
themselves together.
Every third year the couple must visit this
place on their anniversary. Only the most
serious reasons must prevent them from
doing so.

Peter Frank
Thank you piece

Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
politeness is NO crime
(date unknown)

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

my teeth are straighter when
i'm not sleeping with anyone (on a regular basis)
because it means i can put my retainers in every night
and not worry about them getting in the way

my toothpaste lasts longer
i can press snooze a hundred times
and not feel so guilty about it.

i can have my favorite pillow every night
and never worry about making my bed properly
because there is no one i have to share the sheets with.
i can stroll back into my room at 5:45 am
in the rain
and laugh about it until I fall asleep.

there is freedom in the act
even if the first amendment can't be held
no speech here
no screams here
no songs here
just silence.

but there are so many words i wish i could share with you
so many words that i want to shout across the country
so many explanations and questions
so many jokes and odd occurrences
so many frustrating events that would allow me to posit us against them
the outside world
instead of me against you.
i don't want to fight anymore
i'm tired of fighting in the silence
i'd rather wrestle until we were just so exhausted
that we had no choice but to fall down
in each others arms
in utter fatigue and surrender
i don't want to lose you.
but i'm too stubborn to give in
to scared to be vulnerable
unwilling to just lean into this one
i'm sorry.
i guess that's the easysimpleshortandtothepoint of it
i'm sorry.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

i thought

we would end up together
as if we were headed to a place with an end
and that when we got there,
we'd look around and find nobody but us.
not in a "stranded at the end of the cul de sac and not sure if there's enough wiggle room to flip a bitch"
but more in a "oh, hey, here we are"
in a way that was somewhat surprising,
when in reality part of us always knew.

that doesn't make this in-between space any less hard to bear
that doesn't make it easier to hear you're kinda, sorta, repeatedly, semi-seriously
seeing someone else
getting drinks with, sharing bites with, kissing, dating, sleeping with someone else.
thank you for packing your overnight bag in front of me.
your actions spoke clearer than your words.
particularly the part where you stayed five feet away at all times
so that i could barely feel you in the room.
so that our phone conversations when 2,000 miles apart felt more sincere
than sharing breathing space.
little breathing happened that day.

and no, it is not my intention to ignore you
but i can't yet
i can't pretend that its okay that i feel betrayed
i can't pretend that its just the distance that separates us
i can't pretend that i can still be your friend
and forget about the rest.

give me time and i'll remember what its like to hold back
give me time and i'll remember how to lie to you
give me time and i will be just a phone call away
just the best friend who you can call when things go awry with her
in time, maybe,
but i can't yet
so please, give me time to grieve this loss.

let me let the dream of us go, before you tell me about your new ones.

Monday, February 13, 2012

it's been

6 months. today.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

the silence on the other end of the phone
the stillness in the shadow of your presence
the complete and utter inability
to thinkwritereadspeaktalkarticulate;
the moment your heart doesn't just skip a beat
but probably face plants in its own internal dialogue

but does that mean...?

kinda like how everything can be going great
and the work is the work is the work is the work
I want to be doing
and routine is routine is routine is routine.
oh. so you're doing fine. that's good. me too.
finished your book yet?
seeing someone new?
miss me much?
i don't miss you at all.
actually, though
i hardly think about you anymore
and at first it was because it was too much
and now perhaps it's just not enough
but really, 
i'm fine.

until signs of you appeared
and everything stop.ped.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

on track.

man dies on a track.
man lived on a track
can't figure out where he went off course
of course
because from afar man was always on track

man on track
man on track
train is coming
but the man is still on track.

couldn't stop to see what passed him by
couldn't stop to see what was right in front of him
couldn't see through darkened windows
to the light at the end-
lights at the end of the tunnel
man on track
man on track
train is coming
but I couldn't stop--

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

-- --

the man on track
the blood on track
the melted snow, the rotting rats, the discarded possessions
the piss the puke the pandemonium
on track
the running and the feet and the crowds and the haze
on track
the life of the lives of the living
on track
the trip trip tripping and the drip drip dripping
and the drop drop drop
on track
of track on track
keeping track of
track on track on track on track.

monday morning comes and the trains are running back-- -- while the stale subway gutters glean a darker sheen of red, and everyones' lives are right back-- --to normal.

Friday, January 20, 2012


does art betray the love it seeks to honor?
to wait until the last seconds to stop what has been happening since the start.
injunctions against gaze

i did not want my desire to overwhelm hers
is any memory of love not informed by mourning?
how love's hope--the sudden breath in the heart-- responds to death--the end of all breath
death is an event with both spatial and temporal location
after life before death

if only he hadn't looked back
to return without turning is akin to repeating something that has no original

When heart is gone, how can it be that I am living?

his quest seems to require her death

(nods to Peggy Phelan, as these are mostly her words, not mine.)

Sunday, January 15, 2012

what happens when you reinhabit a body you used to own
but no longer remember
except for the soft squishy areas
where flesh and sinew
meet intimacy and nostalgia.
The words no longer aligning with the movement
so you make up for
lost time
lost fantasies
lost lovers.
I always thought we'd get married
or at least go through the actions
that marriage signifies:
an exchange of trust
a commitment to the longevity of the relationship
a reciprocated investment of time and energy
a walk through mid morning mist in the dusk of our lives
shared cook, cleans, and cuddles
wrestling in the sheets
a slow dance in silence
a fight over something remote.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

if you forget me

it is perhaps because i did not love you enough
or perhaps you did not love me enough
or perhaps you never loved me at all.

if you forget the small of my back
where the pulps of your fingers pressed exhales
in the spaces between vertebrae in my spine
i will have forgotten the dimples in your ass
and the swerve of your child bearing hips
that end in bowed knees and duck flared feet.
your syncopated walk only the shadow of an image
echoing its dissimilarity in each ticking of this
second hand memory feasting on borrowed time.


if you forget the moment that you broke me
that you broke into me
that love and pain became synonymous
and we took it anyway because somehow
masochism meant that at least we could still feel something
that the pain killers and ssris
those sorry sons of an irresponsible system
hadn't numbed us yet
if you forget,
i've already forgotten what you feel like inside me
can barely locate the cells we exchanged
in the currency of friction.

if i forget you,
where will i go home?

Sunday, January 8, 2012

and then

it was over
your letters no longer haunting my shadow
your rhythm no longer dictating my steps
it doesn't hurt like it used to
because i don't remember what you felt like
inside me