for you, friend

i don't really know what to say.

you were outrageous.

so secure, comfortable with who you were

there was no need for you to judge

you were chess, physics,

sitting beside me in math, always mischievous

always helpful

always kind

dear friend.

you fought so well

and. and. and.

i still don't really believe it.

i choke up whenever i think of you and how you made me laugh.

other people have said this so much better

but friend.

i miss you.

love,

friend

heavy water

there is that moment that comes around every once in a while

you pause and breathe

and the world comes tumbling down upon your heart like a heap of angry boulders.

Your yoke is easy and Your burden is light.

rain on me

i'm back.

it's as if i was never there

lying in bed, artificial light creeping in between half-parted eyelids

i feel like i could die by candlelight

with this nostalgic, melancholy guitar melody in the background

whatever all that means

i should sleep.

twelve hours

in that amount of time, a lie worth eight years will come to a end.

i'm frightened, anxious almost

but anticipating the moment nonetheless.

it will be a reunion between city and soul, and as corny as that may sound,

i'm feeling abnormally overwhelmed and sentimental.

and trust me

i'm really sentimental.

hey

this really hurts.

where did you go?

i've cried all day.

i don't know what to do anymore.

it struck me today while were riding together in the car

that my little brother was really gone.

there would be no more baby voices,

no more parachute cheeks or running to me for protection--

these things were gone a long time ago.

i'm having a very hard time letting this go.

people are telling me things.

and just this fact is killing me.

but it's my fault, i know. i admit

i lost myself somewhere along the way, too.

i'm so sorry.

i'm so sorry.

a swelling up

it's starting again. i can feel it.

it's been longer than i thought:

that familiar, stained wanting, the need to see red

it's in the way i eye the reflection in the mirror

awkward shapes stuck together with a bit too much cushioning.

everything is just awkward.

awkward

awkward

awkward.

there is a time for everything

our roles are reversed.

you came out of the bedroom--face, eyes, red

and it hits me like light

in a dark room how

sad you must be.

i want to ask for more time, another chance

so that maybe you will find it in your heart to forgive me

i will be amiable, so that another

painful knot might unravel

i'll eat more rice, i promise

and then we can laugh again.

i spy

with my little eye

the moon
through the spaces of my blinds

shut all the windows

so strange.

you used to come to me, frightened
we'd sit on the bed together and when we were really scared
we'd call him on the phone,
asking when he would come home.

both of us were weak and small, but i was just a bit bigger,
so it made me feel important and i suppose it made you
feel just a little more safe.

but then came that day, a few years later, when i accidentally broke
the light overhead, the glass shattered on the floor
and i found myself crying to you, frightened of what he would say
but you just laughed

and now, i'm calling you.
i'm calling you because i'm home alone, with no one to cook for
i'm calling you because when i'm in bed at night, i can no longer distinguish your thundering footsteps from his
i'm calling you because now, you're bigger than i am.
and even though we might have grown apart,
if you were here, i'd feel just a little more safe.

crooked

if you are there, please tell me.

i need to know that i am not the only one.









thank you.

for the eighth

this is the 8th year.
the year i turn 18.

i remember,
it was the 28th of april
and at 8:05 you disappeared.


please, let our heavens not be different
and i pray that i'll hear your voice again.
your arms around me again

i miss you.
i love you.

dragonheads

I.
oh, love!
one hand clenched and the other reaching.

sleepy tears

good morning.

i would like to go to the beach during the rain.
for some reason, i am having a difficult time picturing what it would be like.

would raindrops spiral down and splash into the sea and sand,
spattering and sputtering...

would the waters seem deeper, darker?

i suppose it would depend. as with everything

april begins in a day.

dear rabbit

you were my favorite childhood toy.

stay with me

warm

i can't keep on doing this.
i have to be okay with my mistakes

no matter what i've done or felt
i just need to keep moving on

i'm afraid of looking back and cringing
reenacting scenes over and over again
wishing i had done this instead,
or thinking perhaps i shouldn't have done that

it's so hard to keep my mind on the present
and shouldn't one eye always be kept on what is ahead?
i've been living with a foot stuck in the past
maybe that's why it's so hard to truly get over things.

i care too much about what people think of me.
too much effort has been put into cultivating some sort of image for myself
i've spent too much time dwelling in my pride,
leaning on my own understanding.

i don't know.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_rFoD1oE6U
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iY4APDrl66s
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmucougzKn0

shh, shhh

I.
can i sit here, still,
falling forward

the question, by tony hoagland

The Question

"We are what is missing from the world"
-Fernando Pessoa

Some questions have no answer.
Raised, they hang there in the mind
Like open mouths, full of something missing.
The great Portuguese poet, Pessoa,
Said that the idea of happiness
Is what makes men permanently sad.
The body, imagining the soul,
Looks ugly to itself.
A man hears a word, and the world
Becomes a place that he misunderstands.
So he climbs high into his life,
Ashamed of all he doesn't know,
And refuses to come down.

If you could coax him out again,
You could tell him, say,
That anything can be explained.
The shape of apples, for example,
By their love of travel.
Or that the sky is blue because
It's an easy color on the eyes.

Even the dog, chasing its tail,
Has, temporarily, a center.
Even the bird, disappearing into his hole
Knows that the world goes on without it.
And Pessoa, that eminently healthy man,
That artist, wore a blue wool hat
Even on the hottest summer days.
Simply to toss at strangers in the street.
He liked to see them catch it,
And grow immediately less strange.

-Tony Hoagland


one of my favorites, always.

blue light breath

I.
blue light dawning on me,
blue light setting

peering through the eyes of a sleepy sun
so drunken with light
say goodnight!
then it's pale blue again in the morning



i am so tired. i don't seem to have an established sleeping pattern as of late.
but what did i expect?

i sort of long for moments when i'm out of breath.
everything is fast and pounding, but also, in a way, peaceful.
all you have to think about is the next breath.

simple.

you have to look straight up, to the very, very top

all my neighbors have fruit trees. as far as i know, they let the fruit rot on the branches and grow soft and dark and moldy on the ground. why don't they pick them? they're beautiful. and i know they taste just fine (i picked a few lemons, i admit).

ah.

today, i ran. my legs felt as if they would stop working.
and as i fell behind, the lights began to blur as i felt a wetness in the corners of my eyes.

but you just have to keep pushing. because you can still breathe, you can still move.
there are people watching, waiting.

so you keep on running.

heavy, like a swamp

I.
i listened for a while
(strained to hear)
i heard the cries of kittens,
yearning for their mother's milk

II.
the world burning itself into my eyes

i am determined. kind of.
(p.s. are knowing and believing the same thing?)

early morning

I.
this morning, slow-bodied and dark-eyed,
bears no fruit,
(obese limbs without root in the ground)
tight buds centered in my fingertips,
(promises of flowers--i wish)

II.
the days have colors
the days are long and blurred



(the moon was so pleasantly plump last night!
the first full moon of the lunar calendar.
in my head, i thought yesterday was the end.
but like always, it was only the beginning.)