Status-Update Poems w/commentary

August 21 at 10:32 pm

The beautiful swirls, sometimes

dressed as sorrow–Ache holds on.

Please, it says, I am a child.

Don’t pull away. Love grows

between what’s said and the silent.

(I posted this last night, understanding the beauty of how one moment you can feel terribly sad, and the next, the Universe bursts in with gifts and unexpected joys. I had just had a week of dryness, slow-time, and then BOOM! Friday brought 24 hours straight of amazing, beautiful strangers, kisses in Union Square, returning to Brooklyn, a gunshot, sadness juxtaposed to two bodies happy to see each other alive and in the same room. I was up for two days straight.)

*

August 16 at 5:17 pm:

There’s nothing left, friends,

of me. The tree says nothing,

then, Go, take everything,

leave. Nothing left of me–

I’m already the groundling, begging

to be let in.

*

August 14 at 8:40 pm

Dear Universe, Be still, please. I don’t know where I’m going.

(Just arrived back from Massachusetts. Fleetwood, NY was a shock after the beauty of the mountains and lustful trees.)

*

August 13 at 12:42 am

I don’t know how to miss a body. I don’t know

how to–Tell me how

sleepless sounds, tell me

how to tell your body

what’s missing, singing

a door open, waiting.

(Again, back from him. I don’t know how to deal with the impossibility of the impossible situation of loving the impossible. Like God.)

*

August 12 at 8:38 pm

She let the window talk, let it

stare at her chest–it wasn’t quite like

a new wound–it feels hungry,

she said to the willow,  I want a field of him.

I understand, the willow said, love

is a mistake. What you seek is someone

to pray with, who takes wounds and makes

words, like: come, beautiful, God.

(I wrote this after returning from Brooklyn, about to go on a weekend away to Massachusetts with a friend. I was thinking about the sad pull my chest feels every time I think of how complicated becoming attached to someone can be. And the past loves that follow me around. I always think, Trees are much more wise. So this status came to me as a way to answer my own sweet-pain)

*

August 9 at 9:59 am

Dear Shannon, get up! run to me! write me letters! I love you! Love, the Universe.

(I remember writing this status. I was lying in his bed, sleepy and full of hope. I was about to go meet a friend in the city for a “poetry date.” What a perfect day, I thought. My car parked at a broken meter in Brooklyn, I’d take the subway to my friend and return to Brooklyn, high on poetry.)

August 3 at 11:30 pm

You had your back to me. There were lamp-posts, and I thought my body kind, letting me speak, not-speak. You took a breath, said, See the trees? I made them shake. Make me do that. What? Break, I said.

(I wrote this in the Tower Room of the place I was babysitting. This voice seems to come back to me. I was longing for it again)

August 1 at 11:06 pm

I have stone-hurt again. What’s that, you said. When I want to eat stones to feel loved, then heavy, then part-earth, then dead.

(Stone-hurt. Desiring the solidity of things. Yes. That’s all I can think to say.)

August 1 at 2:01 am

Satisfy me come morning

with Your love. I will sing

joy into new light.

You say, even joy breathes

in stillness, night–Satisfy me!

(I had just read Psalm 90:14. I liked the idea of asking God to satisfy.)

*

July 29 at 2:14 am

faith found you talking to the sky–said, your mouth is beautiful, wide. Touch here, you said–bruised, a mullberry blossomed out your side.

*

July 20 at 7:01 pm

Screw it, son. Tell ’em you’re fishin’ for ideas and get those trout outta your mouth, hollerin’ about light particles. You wanna get arrested and thrown in the nuthouse like your friend, Turantula? Son simply threw off his shoes and fished for another five hours, said scrapin’ his teeth against stone was like makin’ love to God. Whatever that means.

(this is probably a character in a novel I haven’t written yet. He decided to speak up.)

*

July 15 at 2:01 am

One bright lung canters to where

you, blood-stunned, burn a word

to keep breathing–

Touch a thigh to tether

whatever body is left after loneliness.

*

July 12 at 11:42 pm

to send a letter, I want

to sunset on sill, I want

to message-in-silence, I want

to sing blue strings, I want

to wake you.

*

July 12 at 12:45 am

Dear,

Your roof-door’s trembling

Grace–let her in.

*

July 10 at 1:08 pm

screw it, Son. Just tell ’em you’re half-mad and you’re diggin’ up their gardens for the sake of science. Now, remove those pansies from your mouth and praise the sunshine while you still got it.

*

July 6 at 11:40 pm

I hear You, Friend. And I want the joy between Your teeth–Friend, I am Your light, (You said) I am the most beautiful train in the desert night, calling out–

*

July 4 at 1:04 am

Lamp-light, listen–tell them

our bodies recover,

love-heavy, hopeful,

God-given. Listen,

tell them.

*

June 26 at 8:22 pm

I am going west,

or up cliff,

or down sleep,

wherever it is, it is not

me. who you love

is not me. footsteps

outside the door are more

me than this thigh.

I am going, ghost or voiced, crazy.

*

Going somewhere beautiful

tonight. To You,

though I’m afraid.

If I don’t return

don’t send anyone

after me.

Returning is harder. Imagine.

If everyone returned

from darkness, love’s loss,

there’d be no one in the parks.

I’m afraid.

*

June 17 at 12:54 pm

This pull, this sadness, is You loving intensely to have me

run back to you, broken, maybe,

but realized in the Only-Light.

*

June 16 at 11:43 pm

Silent. All fireflies gone.

I dreamt You let me write letters, send.

Shannon! Yes?

I’ve bodied again. Call me

mouth-of-

or did did I?

Love, —

*

June 11 at 12:30am

I burn and burn, turn doors,

biting myself, biting. What

You say, do you want?

Would you look at my face

and die? No, just take away

this I, I, I!

*

June 10 at 10:30 pm

Language let me

understand you,

suffering, into laughter.

Hear, my chest-angels,

near to You. I must be

mad, singing

horrors in joy. Nothing,

wrap, word by word

death into me.

*

June 4 at 7:44 am

into the twist of morning, Your love, singing, singing, hallelujah. I can’t even drive my car without Your smile following me.

*

May 30 at 1:17 pm

Who you are right now is eternity inside. In this moment, galaxies coming together, laughing in your blood. You– stumbling, unaware you’re drunk with heaven.

*

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