as we leave class, the little one says, i want to sit on your shoulders. so i hoist her up.
we cross the street & she says, i want to run. so i put her down & she runs, laughing.
she runs away from me, little legs dancing, she runs past our car. i say, where are you going?
she doesn’t even look back. she just laughs & laughs. i ask again, where are you going?
unadulterated glee, she runs even further away without stopping.
Category Archives: internals
thoughts, musings, life, etc
city grudge
the city is, of course, brutal and unending, pure and ultimately relentless. circumscribed, the city inevitably consumes itself only to reproduce itself. the faces change, the strides, the fashion, but they are all the same, split apart and recombined, a gestalt of the city, of its desires and nuances, of its fickle and harsh method of living. it is infinite within itself, a fractal pattern that subdivides over and over until my eyes water from the strain of discerning the swirls from the limbs, the gesture from the act, the concrete from the skin, myself from it. i was born here. i made love here. i bled here. but i will not die here, i know this as sure as i know my own name. and the city most likely holds it against me.
split level
he says, it’s a good thing, in the long run, to be as shattered as you are.
and i said, why is that, you must be fucking joking.
he says, because if you tried to reconcile all the pieces you’d only find out that none of them fit, that you in the end do not fit.
and i said, i already know that, i’ve known that for quite some time.
he says, no, thinking and knowing are two different things. there is no way to unknow something, but you can unthink something. you can stuff it away, push down and stop feeling that. you know, the sort of thing you do everyday.
and i said, you’re mocking me.
he says, i’m trying to teach you something here, something about yourself. you’re no longer becoming, you already are.
and i said, i’m not done yet, you’re out of your mind.
he says, you realize, of course, you’re just arguing with yourself here.
and i said, yeah, you’d think i’d be used to it by now. how fucked is that.
tunneling
panic in the tunnels, we are all waiting for the end, something abrupt, something like a flash of lightening. none of us want cancer, none of us want to drown. make it quick, make it when i’m not looking, make it when i think i’m going to live forever.
stuck underneath tunnels, we dream each other a friend to hang onto, someone to give us comfort when we have no comfort to give. we look around, looking for that face, someone familiar in the crowd and all we get are crowded eyes looking past us.
i’d give anything for a wailing wall, just one sheer moment of rage and pain and sorrow and broken teeth and split lips and skin cracked over knuckles and a single breath of exhaustion flung against a pile of perfectly set stones to take us away.
the little one asks me to stay
i don’t always get along with the little one, she is tempestuous and ornery, has her mood swings, sticks her tongue out when i tell her what to do. but there are moments like this one, when she is suddenly frail, where even her frustration collapses her, when i get up to walk out of the room for some odd thing and she asks, where are you going? and i reply, do you want me to stay? and she nods her head and i stay and am overwhelmed with the sense that one day she will learn of all my sins, of all my crimes, and will want me to leave instead.
the little one knows
and its like the little one knows, she insists
that i sit with her, play
these games on the laptop,
puts an arm around me when I join in
to hold me still
and the roar comes
and the roar comes back to me,
soft and gentle and strong, and
suddenly
for the first time
i realize what it is: it is mourning,
it is loss & it goes on
without stopping
mutter-stutter-chatter
first it’s the chill from his skin inward until it hits his bones, then shoots outward. he doesn’t understand it, how sudden, this wave of nausea, this harsh way it wipes him out. he thinks “i’ve been poisoned.”
poisoned and restless, reckless and rotten, “it must’ve been something i ate.” he gathers the rinds of figs, inspects them, looking for mold. flash of cold warps him, his stomach turns, catches suddenly bile in his throat.
“i must’ve caught something,” tremble in his belly, the stench of cigarettes in his hair. he wants to say, “i think i going to be sick,” but he barely makes it staining the floor with vomit.
up and down staircases for hours, doesn’t know whether to turn right or left so he keeps turning, stumbling about, reaches out for anything to steady himself. someone touches his shoulder, says, “let me take your temperature.”
his mouth is dry, he is so cold, he mutters to himself, mutters himself into the shower, mutters to himself until the water hits his skin, he swears it sizzles, leaning against the very same wall where the knobs are, turning it and turning it.
he stutters himself under blankets, he chatters to ghosts in the room with him, his child puts a wet towel on his forehead. the dead one, the one never born. “would you have given up on me if it was the other way around?”
rabid
the lather of it rides
planks stolen from kennels
we raided while hungry
for that one piece
of gamy meat with tendons
for threads you stitched
across my neck a tattoo
of sinews parted
& vocal chords bared
the harsh kiss of leaving this life, any life
there are times when i feel clustered, an enormous pressure to put the pieces back together, this enormous need to put things back as they were, but i don’t recognize the pieces, i don’t recognize my hands. what were, what when, what now. i look at all of you and i am shattered, a million sharp edges without remorse, weeping for stones, for something to rest my head against. and i cannot find a way back in and i am terrified of finding a way out, the streets beckon me, the harsh kiss of leaving this life, any life behind me. i want to forget this, i want to forget my name, i want to forget the history that travels in this blood. i want to forget i am my father’s son, i want to forget the taste for cruelty the years have given me. how perfect you left this life, you cold cold bastard, without ever opening your eyes again, without ever fucking even acknowledging what you’ve rendered in me. i will cut my face off for you to let me be. i will shave my scalp, crack my skull, bleed my wrists open to get your blood out of me. do you understand? i am twisted up into mourning for you and for who i could have been but i need to be free of your legacy to be anything normal. i need to you to leave my thoughts, i need you to no longer be the shadow behind every gesture i make. i need to look at my children without pain, without the fear that i too will do to them what you had done to me. i scratch and scratch my wounds and i know it’s not because the air is dry. you’re still there, you’re still here and only i wish to remain.