Tuesday, March 10, 2009

huh? (what?) What? (nevermind.) [some... everything(s)

untitled, [brett walker]

____i. (i miss LA)
these raindrops are fat. they make massive splattering noises on the windshield like bug-collisions on interstate roads. she lifts her foot up a bit and the car slows (but makes more noise, she doesn't understand that). tropical weather confuses her. rain in the summer: sticky and moist so that it looks like palm trees are sweating. she misses summer. a different kind of summer. a summer somewhere else.

____ii. (things i need to say just right now without censoring, A LIST:
__1. loneliness, i think, is a thing like a shadow. a consistent potential energy, a constant possibility. like plates and cutlery that are always liable to fall off a table. a thing that is always in a cabinet or under a sofa, or cut diagonally across a sidewalk: ready and breathing imperceptible breaths and crouching and yawning and waiting to slowly slide up to you and put its arm around you like the longest lostest friend you've never had.

__2. why am i having problems discerning the relative sizes of things? so that Wednesday afternoon looks like a small-sour-myfavorite!-green apple, and my forearms are like prunes and the fan whirring above me is identical to the storm snapping palm trees outside.

__3. Every sidewalk turns back onto itself. Even maps and globes return to the same point. Birds and dogs. (nothing ends. how can something end? nothing_ever_ends. ends make no sense) Even stars the next night are back in the same place: home. (home. home. home. home. home. Where is home now?

__4. i'm going to find you. i'm going to push your hair out of your face. your eyes will be pretty. when it's dark, eyes are always incredible. i'm going to hold off for a few moments to feel the electrical surge (i need that electrical surge, i'm addicted to it, it's my crack), i'm going to listen and hear the world inhale and hold its breath as the universe expands and expands and expands to make space for our soon-to-be-maybe-never-this-happened-before-whatwhatwhat, and then, like falling (breaking (being stolen away from yourself (losing a piece of paper in a gust of wind (grape-juice (lost (and when i look up, you'll look back at me and won't regret me and i'm going to grow roots and will my hair to dust and my skin to stone and that will be just enough and i want to just be there and...
______________________(exhale q. exhale.

____iii. (lay down your arms)
paper grows around me.
__(it is the internal organs.
_soon the heart will beat on its own.
and its white skin, white eyes, white hair, white soul, white paperskin
will wrap around me like sails.
like the froth of a crashed (never to be recovered) wave,
____what Who taught me to love her?

and she is soo silent. the fan occasionally pushes a page away from her
white cheeks, and she makes a little gasp.
i lose myself.
such stillness in a lover.
such stillness.

(white feet with white toes and white ankles with white soles
and i learned how to love and how to lie(break)(die) simultaneously.

a new book on the table. (400 more freckles) (she is complete)

come my love,
together we can merge, annhiliate, disappear.


Anonymous said...

the pause of where we've been does not overshadow the pause of where we are to go... and still, we are still in the now. perfect.

a penny for the old guy said...

yes. very perfect, yesyes.