Tuesday, May 27, 2014

things. just, things.

- so why then, why would you do that to her? - admit it, it's your ego - it is -
- of course, but what isn't -

- right so - 
- no, let me finish, 
- mm, sorry. 
- sometimes, you just... i just need, it's imperative, it's important that i like someone. that i remember what that feels like. that it's a possibility. ___even if nothing comes of it, something might. that thrill of possibility. it's life - that's what life feels like. ___in my personal life, i barely remember it


i just want to go. i'm tired, i've grown pale. there are poems out there. i sense them. i want to find them. my pen tip is looking. i sense them sometimes near me. but always work - workwork - always work - i can't just stop and let them happen. 

this is how old age happens. when you can't stop for a poem. that's death. i'm dying. 


i still think about sex with you. i don't think i'll ever forget it. the last time scared me. that's the truth, it scared me. it wasn't sex anymore, there were feelings. i'm not sure that's happened before. but it happened then. if ever we crossed that boundary, i thought i'd have known about it. that it would have been a conscious decision. but on that occasion, perhaps for the only time in my life, my body wasn't lying. not to either of us. that was truth. god that was scary. 

happy birthday anyway. i still miss you in every way.  it hasn't been the same without you. 


i don't have many stories left to tell. all i know now are lies used to fill in empty spaces. whiskey on weeknights, lying skin on weekends. daylight hours are filled with work and comics when you take 20 minutes for lunch.

and she says: 
- good, i'm glad you didn't go in - who the hell works all week and then works weekends too? take a day off!
- do you think Oxford would have happened if i took weekends off mom? do you think i'd be where i am at work if i took weekends off? do you think life waits around for me to catch me breath? 
- no son. no. but...
- [but: be weary, death licks its lips]


this (right now, right this second) moment is what i'm most afraid of. this is what happens if i don't fill the gaps. this right here. 


i'm in the door for 5 seconds - 

- q, glad you're here, we saved you a line. 
- uhh, OH. i see. 
- wanna try? 
- so, i have a sinus infection, will that affect anything? 
- na, should be fine. 
- good

i'm lying across the arm-rest of couch. listening to my body tingle. 

- q, you aaight? 
- ... 
- q?
- what? oh. yah. i'm just thinking. 
- what? 
- what are you thinking? 
- do you know what happiness is? ___could i be happy right now and not know it? 


a knock on my office door - the big boss. q, just wanted to let you know, your leave of absence has been approved. you'll get the official letter in the next day or two, but thought you might like to hear it directly.  he's right - that's great new boss, thanks for letting me know. of course, this means you have to promise to come back to us. i want to tell him: this is the place i feel most loved nowadays. i'm here all day, all night, and most of the weekend, because it's all i've got. it's all i've had for years. my phone is silent. i don't get private emails. i just eat law. create it. make cases, and break them. give me five boxes of records, i'll find you an argument. 

i want more. 


- why can't you sleep? 
- i don't know. 
- are you excited about leaving? 
- maybe. 
- are you depressed? 
- i don't think so. 
- why can't you sleep? 
- i don't know. ___maybe because i've been dreaming again. 
- you didn't used to dream? 
- the pills. since the pills i don't dream. but they're back. 
- why's that a problem? 
- i hate dreaming. ___it's like thinking all night, i wake up exhausted. 


i'm still awake. 

i haven't been pouring full shots. 

i'm gonna go fix this. 

Sunday, May 18, 2014

note / oh no.

I don't know how your eyes hold the bouquet of flowers
Or how I can see soo much in the dark.

Every sound I know converges to make this silence,
to slow this second for a moment or two more _so that I might distinguish the petal of your lip, _the slender arc of your arm, _this long short night from all those other dreams.

She sways to the music,
a flower in the pool-hall wind.
oh no.
is that a poem looking thing?
it's happening isn't it?
here we go again