Saturday, December 31, 2011

Day 893: Happy new year

the calendars will ring of 2012
a constant reminder that graduation hangs close
there is nothing i can do to stop her
no way to hold 2011 in a way that will make her stay
iʻve learned that loving a leaving girl will always have you torn and running

so heres to something new
and someone to share it will
lets wipe the slate clean
cuz the last time i was here
it didnt end to pretty

i couldnt remember why
until last night
that i feel no excitement for the transition of years
until someone asked me what i did last dec 31st
there isnt much more to say, i guess
moving on means forgiveness
we will be completely free
of each other
of the version of ourselves we were then

Friday, December 30, 2011

Day 892:

today i realized im one of those who never stayed
who left behind
the chants
and the wovewls for shaper edges
things that looks stainless
steel like
left for an education that didnt feel
didnt really feel at all i guess would be the thing to say
but what of it should feel

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Day 891:

"i will be there when things are good
and when they are bad
when our kids are bored
and when they move out
get married and start their own lives
i will hold your hand and kiss away your tears
and tell you i love you every night as we fall asleep
i promise"

there is nothing i can say
that i havent said before
nothing about the shade
of your eyes in the morning
how they make me thing of home
and sad slowly sticking to the base of my back
nothing about your lips
not their texture
not your kiss
nothing about your palms
holw they hold even when they touch
nothing about these words
the ones that say so much
that hold me inside out
in the middle of an empty theater
nothing about forever
nothing about today

tonight you are less than 14 days away
and i am just waiting
for the right words to appear
so ill have something right to say

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Day 890:

this is me trying to remember

this is me giving up.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Day 889: counting counting counting

12 days 18 hours
30 minutes and some change
.... i've been here before

Monday, December 26, 2011

Day 888: match box logic

i found myself a match box
that seemed to fit
every secret ive ever kept
i think i'll load them in
light the match
watch them burn
ad begin collecting again

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Day 887: christmas

we lace our morning with your surprise
teach ourselves patience in the waking ours
try to stay quite in our excitement
wonder what the new day has brought us in the form of the present

remember to be thankful, she says
and we try not to forget

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Day 886: "but thats GAY"

the way the word slips out of you like slime
like bile
like you are trying to free yourself of its dirt
the scum of its body
the dirt of my body
the way it fall out of you like foam
like its taking it own form
its own disease
my own disease

i wonder where it is you learned to hate
to fear
not here i am sure
all i know
is i learned the same thing
sometime around your age
used the word the same way
until i found it turning my body to bricks
i wonder when you will see
how my body has turned into nothing more than walls erected in shame
how that will change your language
of if the words
will fall
a little more

Friday, December 23, 2011

Day 885: negative space

the days are falling out of me
one by one
i am a child turning into morning
looking for a line
a string with some direction
they know me to be angry
i find them to be useless
tie my hands like promises

i am counting always
these lines are only a fracture
a fraction
a piece of this project
like tomorrow
is just a part of the lonesome

i do not want to live in the margins of numbers
the negative space where we have learned to wait
from 31 to 18
18 to whole
holding you in the morning
is the only calm i know

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Day 884: water



let the ocean take the weak parts away
what it returns
you never know
only feel yourself growing stronger
from her

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Day 883: apologies

There is a reason why
i have given you a hard time
through the way you have dissolved into loving
because i can see my prints
on the scars you lead with into relationships
i notice the way our ends were cut and frayed
how you wanted to stay as i pushed you away
i see myself in every mistake you make
every heart that cracks under the uneven grounds you love on

i feel responsible for every fracture that falls in your wake
for the way i left you unsteady and baseless
find myself wanting to apologize to you in a million different ways
if only i could find the one that would teach you to turn your hands back into olive branches
because now
all i see of you
are weak limbs
and the bodies that have fallen because of them
i do not wish for either of us to carry the weight of broken hearts in shards on our skin

i realized i released you first
and that every mistake i made was me pushing you a mile further from you potential
i guess what i mean to say
is i know there is still blood on my hands
and everytime a new drop falls
i fins myself wanting to apologize
for all the things iʻve done
and all that you keep doing

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Day 882: not ready yet

in the evenings
i wish myself a pair of wings
something about their architecture
strong enough to send a dream flying home on

you are a smile i had forgotten how to forge
a dimple bent into the diphthong of your melody
a song i only learned to sing
because of the gravity of your voice

you are a poem i do not write often enough
because it requires knowing too much of myself
requires digging into the parts i left buried and behind

Monday, December 19, 2011

Day 881: To Bronte, the girl who dances in and out of me like water

who are the people
who hold you all the time
who know of your dreams
not because you keep the phone lines clean for their breath to flow through easy
but because they travel through them with you

im thinking about the love of my life
and wondering
who holds that part of your heart today
is it a boy from midtown
whos heart has sewn pieces of his poetry into your spine
whos fragments of story i found crashed into you as a constant reminder of the distance of you he's traveled already

is it a boy you love conveniently
one whose body
finds itself near to you often enough to call him dear
call him love
maybe even home
but what about those of us who love you like streetlights
who trust you to hold the shadows off on your side
even in distance
even in silence
even when we havent called in days
now weeks
soon months

what about those of us who have written you lines upon lines upon lines
who have carved your name into the sand
traced our promises
just to have them washed away
those of us who let go of your heart
only to hold onto a different part of you
knowing we'd be able to manage this angle longer if we learned to sacrifice

who is it who is holding you tonight
whose hands are reading the dances my melodies bent into your palms
whose fingers are carving their middle into the beginnings we traced in sidewalk chalk on your torso
whoe lips are finding home agaisnt the heaven of skin on your forehead
will you let him rest there
will you let him hold you

will he understand the weight of you?
the beauty and miracle of it all
how your body bent between his arms like a dance
is the heaviest and most beautiful kind of privilege
the most permanent kind of prayer
will he treat the blessing of you accordingly?
will you allow him that honor?

i hope so.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Day 880: Not a Lullaby

This is not a lullaby
not a paper crane bent into the folds of your eyes
not a promise for the weight of our distance to fall away like white wash
this is not a morning rain
or a midnight thunder storm
not a quiet whisper
noe a reminder
this is a girl
struggling for the umpteenth time to find the words worthy of these lines
worthy of your lines
worthy of your smile
and the hollow cavity created by your embrace

this is not the minor fall
or the major lift
not the travis pick
or an alternating bass line
this is steady
the beat of the bass drum
like a heartbreak
it is not a poem
waiting to be read
not a song worthy of your voice
just a rhythm
something that continues
in the absence of all other percussion
it is only something
a part of me
that will always be walking in your direction
while every other part of life
swing in its own pendulum

this is not a lullaby
so dont you go sleeping on me now
this is our morning grace
not a promise or a reminder
just a place we can take
for our own
this is where we are today
and today
thats just okay

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Day 879:

i line my dreams with the dust and debris of your promise
the ones that says
youll be here tomorrow
and every day that follows
i wait for morning
only at the chance to be fooled
to think for a moment
to be so sure of your presence
that the wind brushing through my window is really your breath breaking across my skin
the afternoon brings too much truth
its rain washes your body away from these sheets

tomorrow i will hold onto the thought of you a little tighter
promise me youll do the same
i think thats the only chance we'll have
for a moment of peace
together in this distance

Friday, December 16, 2011

Day 878: haiku

damn, i hate haiku
they just never seem complete
i need more from you

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Day 877: home

i can hear you chest rising from the bottom bunk
the way the breathe breaks against the ceiling
it sounds like you are dreaming of something exciting
i hope you hold those kind of memories where no one can touch them
where no one would dare try
to tlel you
you're living it all wrong
to tell you we failed
we dont know nothing about getting it right
but this sure

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Day 876: returning

i've written too mnay poems called distance
too many called travel
too many for the wind beneath this two engine jet
too many leaving
too many returning
too much of me getting lost in transport

these are the parts of poems i dont like rewriting
because they remind me how little i've traveled in all this distance
how much further i still have to go
and how much uncertainty lies within the margins of what we call future

new york city is just 6 thousands miles and could be 9 months away
and im not sure im ready for another spurt of commitment needed for that kind of promise
who knows

not me
not anymore

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Day 875: Carmen

there's a cord caught in the throat of
my guitar
dont sing like it used too
strings shut with rust
i am afraid
to let her melody free
means to let myself open
sever the shackles
the promise i cannot make
to music
the time i never gave
to her
a kiss never left on the fret board
her body
has top many curves to follow
i waited
thinking love is something that happens when we are stagnant
but life
is what happens
when we are caught staring too closely into the kaleidoscope dangling from our knees
but love
like music
doesn’t bring itself alive
doesn’t sing itself into the clefs of our chest on its own
as much as we’d like to think
that waiting is an active pursuit of our tomorrow
theres no substitute
for holding her body
freeing the flakes of sleep from her lashes
and playing her
into the early hours of morning

Monday, December 12, 2011

Day 874: silent wonder

there is a moment before you wake
when you are rolling over into consciousness
rolling over into my arms
my lips
to be pressed against your temple
to be held against my chest
for my body to lift you into this morning
this perfect
this part of our forever
a future made a words that used to get stuck at the back of my throat
im wondering what is it about you that taught me to scrape away all the stickiness
to demolish what was built
and begin from the ground
to check my own roots
i am wondering
how it is i found your body moving under me
and mine
rising above
like an ocean we have never rolled through together
i wonder

as you are falling asleep
i am slinging fragments into my ceiling
hoping you might hear these line scratching away at the drywall
theres a story here for you
its something ive found under my skin
i wonder if you are listening
or if all you feel is the silence of our bodies breathing under seperate sheets

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Day 873: gone again

she left her toothbrush here
a perennial reminder of someone missing
mist left behind in the shape of the soles of her shoes
there is a indent left on the side of the bed where she slept
when i roll over
i can still feel the shape of her that she left
so many parts of her gone
and so many parts still here
taunting my body
making me believe
that if i turn around
it will be her hands upon my face
the back of my neck
the collar of my shirt
pulling me in
reminding me why i let the distance go crazy
why i refuse to let go even where separated by infinity
with something like a kiss
but far more miraculous

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Day 872:

you have found a way to fill this room with promise
just like you have covered every hreatbreak of mine with melody
there is nothing more i can say

Friday, December 9, 2011

Day 871: bucket list

THings i dream of doing with you...
(if you do not think this is a poem- then you dont understand love. not at all)

1. Have a Daughter
2. Visit Alaska and see the northern lights
3. See a baby humpback whale
4. White Christmas
5. Kitchen with island/bar
6. Watch the sunrise
7. Have a deck/poach with a view
8. Jacuzzi bathtub for two
9. Adopt and train a puppy
10. Get married in front of all of our family and friends
11. Watch a soccer match in brazil
12. Watch a rugby match in New Zealand (Canterbury or all blacks)
13. Watch a UNC duke game at UNC
14. Own a home
15. convince the rest of the Randolph’s to move to Hawaii
16. see sarra bareilles in concert
17. take you to a radio head concert
18. go to brazil to watch rugby in Olympics


Thursday, December 8, 2011

Day 870: Haiku: the breath i take as you walk away

when you raise your chest
i find myself gasping for
air, please do not go

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Day 869:

i write you in the dark
a silence
something to fall over my body
carry me into the morning
when the insomnia breaks
what will be left under its shell to find me

i am solid waste
learning what it means to decompose
how the stench of it leaves its blight
watch as the pieces fall away
only in darkness

i write you in the dark
i feel like too much is looking upon me for inspiration
or something tangible
and i have nothing but these pens
they scratch the surface of my skin
the center of the page
when the cut it deep enough to feel without eyes
with the lights off

i stop

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

DAy 868: child

the base of my belly
is barren
and will be
as long as i am loving you
if only i could find a way
to turn these promises into potential
into something that could breathe
and embrace you

Monday, December 5, 2011

Day 867:

sounds sleep
something to promise tomorrow with
i wake
wanting to forld you into my body
but your stillness keeps me humble
i breathe only when you let me
inhaling more than i can swallow

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Day 866: Iwalani of Minneapolis

i met a girl with oceans caught behind her eyes
waiting for someone who blood brown enough to tell here this unknowing is alright
to reach out a hand
a shoulder
a few poems
ones with mountains caught in their lines
and yet
all i could give you were these two arms
and a few promises about bridges our bodies can build
how our bones are meant to mend
i wanted to tell her
that history doesnt die unless we let it
that there are bodies full of water and ridges
ready to fall open at your request
all you need, beautiful is to find a part of your heart that isnt willing to open itself up
and listen

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Dauy 865:

where the sidewalk ends
where the body waits for love
every heart, balanced

Friday, December 2, 2011

Day 864:

love written into the margins
scribbled into the snow
i am watching it from a distance
where its often harder to feel
but i know you will be waiting
wherever i will be headed

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Day 863: to the women who love the poet in me (revisionX2)

(There'll be girls across the nation
That will eat this up babe
I know that it's your soul but could you bottle it up)

you will revel in the way I say your name
how the weight bounces off the concrete
you will wait for me to open your doors
to sing you to sleep
to fling songs into your body as your pulse under me
you will call it sexy
I, will not know any other way to keep myself from falling into you completely
I will keep singing

(I am aiming to be somebody this somebody trusts
With her delicate soul
I don't claim to know much)

you let your hand fall just a little farther from you body
begging me to hold you
and i will
i will kiss your cheek
your wrist
your lips
when i kiss your forehead
a part of me will jump through my body and take home in yours
you will not feel my entry
but i will feel my own absence
something about it will leave me feeling empty
so I will keep singing

(Only thing I ever could need, only one good thing
Worth trying to be)

you will watch me on tv
on youtube
on your phone
at a friends house
when I gain the confidence to walk across the room to introduce myself
and extend my hand
you will say you know me
I will be surprised and not understand what you mean
But excited at the possibility that maybe
You were that spirit I felt the night before
On stage
you will see me perfected
the parts of me i practice in front of mirrors
only what is left after iʻve been cut and edited
you will see me then
stripped of all my human
and you will want to be apart of the masterpiece
of the story
want me to be your introduction to women who dress and sing like me
want me to hold you
because my hands are softer than your boyfriends
and i know how to make your body move right
you will want me then
and i will let you
Take a piece of every poem
Call it your own
When you say
That every time I read a love poem that you wish it were about you
I will write you your own
You will be terrified and will not listen
Not hear the words
Just see my body moving on stage
Call it anything other than honest
You will be wrong
I will be hollow

when i fall in love
you will think you are lucky
that you have caught the uncatchable
That I have written my last love poem for the beautiful things I see
you will think you are special
that you can be the one to tie my hands behind my back
make me yours
you will only be partially wrong
you will think you love me because your heart drowns when you think of the tsunamis behind my voice
but you will not be ready to see me after the curtains close
when the imperfect parts find their way home
when i am not so memorized and refined
you will wonder why you came to me in the first place
you never wanted human
you wanted magic
the flashing lights
the stage presence
the tears iʻve shed on stage

you will call my vulnerability sexy
but only when you are drinking it from the other end of my microphone
you will not want to stay and listen through the night
not know why i need to be told
what your love means
you will not understand when i need you to count the ways
over and over
until its etched into the center of my chest
how I will ask you again before you are finished
you will not know how I wait for you to reach our your hand a little further from your body
how i will need to held every once and a while
need someone imperfect to call me beautiful
to see me
in all the worst lights
when the words don’t come out right
and nothing rhymes
and my hands are too heavy
and you are not rising under me

I will need you to try
To look into
my ugly
my insecure
my love
my human
and maybe
and maybe
And maybe
still want
to stay the night

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Day 862:

i am not angry you are gone
rarely miss you from here
sometimes i think about your hands and how they fit mine, sometimes
how nothing about us was stable
somehow that was fine
thought i'd find something about me that could be strong
in time
when i didnt
something clicked
ever since
i cant help but feeling like a joke
ashamed of who i was
that i am the awkWARD CHUCKLE AT THE END OF A PUNCHline
i do not call
because i have nothing to say
but im starting to realize why looking back hurts
and i know
i will tell my children about you
my daughter
the first time her heart is broken
i will find the only picture i managed to save
tell her about how love starts
and sometimes stops
and somehow
its okay

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Day 861: NYC

i am the not the type of person to find a home among the kind of valleys i've found here
peaks only seen in the image of steel
reflections at every corner
i am not acuoustomed to seeing myself so much
i favore like the of scenery tht will touch you back
doesnt scream for your attention
doesnt have to
where the people leave you be
but your family cant stand to leave you hungry
NYC is for the brave
and i am the weakest of them
the fractured soul sent to learn herself how to manage over the damage
they say an ocean can cure just about anything
but what of a city
full of promises and dreams
where do broken hearts mend themseves
i wonder
if i had one
where would i wander
if she leaves me
in the middle of this transition
how much fiurther away from home ad myself will i have to be before i shatter
i need her to be waiting at the other
theres nothing i can hold on to here
to tell me itll be okay
when the sidewalk is screeming
go home
and my reflection says
you cant cut it

Monday, November 28, 2011

Day 860: a haiku called incomplete

when i am without
words to fill our distance, I
search for music

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Day 859: the morning after

You write a poem
You think you are changed
That a part of you is pricked and pulled out like string
Something spun to make your insides feel less barren
With something shiny
Make you the consistency of cellophane
The shine of a pendulum
The gravity of a girl
Who keeps coming back
Like she’s tethered to your waist
And the heavier you swing her away
The faster the return

You woke up today
And realized
The lines that fell out of you last night
Were not songs
But coal pieces that never managed to pressurize right
You wonder what you will right tomorrow
And if you will ever sit
With this white page
And write a story
Worth at least your own time
In memorization

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Day 858: When given the time. and forced into energy. the product is either inspirational. or long.

we drink and dance
talk about our work
and let the pieces trickle down
never settle
never peaceful
how the minutes we spend in front of paper hoping to born poems do not turn to hours
not anymore
how you are growing old
and less innocent
and less visual
and less
less ready
so much less
that the falling of a season does not bring you to tears
and not near or close to the words

i am looking for something to move me
have been for months
and all i’ve come up with is a woman who makes me want to write masterpieces
but nothing
can seen to slow me down enough to give anything other than her smile
the energy it deserved to live

she is my second love taking captive my first
and i am struggling to write anything other than the tint of her irises
struggling to surprise myself with some worth of genius
i have found in these bones from time to time

i feel a need to give more
but an unwillingness to find the power under my skin
want to build a fortress
but the only materials i have close enough to touch are meant to fall
created as ruble
and the journey
to something more permanent
the foundation of something that cannot crack
cannot shatter
will not bear to be from clean palms
cannot grow from this crackle of a wrist
I am giving nothing in me enough space to expand
And so everything is repeat and imitation

Find me a genuine blade of grass
One that never dreamed of being more
Or less
And ill trade you a glass piece of my skin
The most stubborn and weak
But too persistent to shatter
Ill give you a song with no beginning
Not a single entry
But a home built somewhere within the clef of its base
A hallow crevice
Like the vein of a flower
The stem of a woman
Too afraid to sever herself horizontal
That someone may see something too real to be beautiful too honest to be symmetrical
Find me a saturated piece of tomorrow that falls into flaw
And ill find courage in the crack of me that have never found the surface
The bones of mine that seem too brittle for purpose

I wonder where the intersections will take us
In the wake of all of this
And writing
And dying
And winning
And writing
And crying
And writing
Until we’ve written through it

I wonder how the ends find the surface
How the immersed and waterlogged sentiments
Are transformed into something worth attention
Wonder how I will read this
Or the next day
And whether or not ill be able to say tonight
That I tried to create
Unlike the month before where I knew I wrote to say that I haven’t quite given up
I wonder how the giving up looks when you document it
When you let it follow you around in the body of words you insist on producing
Either before you are ready to release
Or give it the energy needed

Everything about these lines is a lie
I wonder tonight
How much of my poetry has been me fighting to emerge from smoke to reveal something
To magnify
And how much has been me shrinking
condensing myself into the mass

how much of me is trying to be remembered and inspired
while the rest is begging to hide behind the veil and be forgotten

I wonder
How far we will get through these questions before we realize
That all the energy and hours will plant you no inspiration
Will materialize no answers
Where certainty does not belong

Friday, November 25, 2011

Day 857: just the surface

finding a part of me
that is not
or broken
the process of bantering the free parts of this skin
to anyone willing to take a pice home
build them a letter bound book to leave there poetry in

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Day 856: Things I Have Left on the Side of the Highway

you were my first anti in
a promise i was ready to keep
a spine not fully hardened
the first wet pillowcase
salted and
a over heated engine
a lonely recovery
a lie i told my self over and over
she loves me she loves me she loves
when i shattered you were not a distant memory
you were a call i made
every morning
every evening
wondering when you would return
i took the pieces left
and fancied myself a friendship that couldn't stand
pillars born of the foundation of love i was waiting to return but never will

you were my first taste of selfishness
i relished in it
moments we stole upon the backs of my broken friendships
the lies we told each other that our heats were beating hard enough to drown out the noise
that the words i couldn't hep but write in your name said we were meant for it
destined for this
that every mistake we made was just a speed bump we needed to overcome
how wrong i was to hold onto pieces of you that would never belong
under my skin
would only stay there as a reminder of who you were
who i was
when i was yours
and who i would never be as long as i stayed that way

you were
we werent
i wanted
what i thought we could be
you were teaching me
what being wrong
felt like in the form of sweat and a night without a tomorrow

i will never write you
into this poem
only love you
into this day
it is all i can do
it is all that i need

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Day 855: but i am still happy to be yours

i shouldn't miss what is right in front of me
but i can see the miles
already trying to force themselves between us
the feeling of being pull away is returning
and my only instinct is to feel lonely

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Day 854: chapel Hill

there is as story built into the foundation of this building
a song in the spine of its walls
i can hear its whispers in the evening
they are also etched into the backs of your eyes
i am waiting for you to emerge with me
for us to build a temple
worthy of the scripture we wrote into our childhood
a place we may someday call home

Monday, November 21, 2011

Day 853: only you can

being here leaves a
bitter tastes upon my tongue
one you wash away

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Day 852:

to be free of you means
that somehow
i have found love on the other side of all of this
security where you made me believe there never could be
i wonder when you will turn over and find yourself a sunrise
something to take you into tomorrow
something to make you forget
about the wishes of children
when you realize that love
really is the meaning of it all
and worthy of sacrifices beyond comprehension

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Day 851: silence

i keep wanting to say your name out loud
so i keep forcing it down
it feels a lot like regurgitation
and the acid
does its damage on my mouth
your name
doesn't deserve the weight of its syllables
at this point its mostly a word
without a soul
doesnt mean much to me now
but keep trying to come up
for air

Friday, November 18, 2011

Day 850: patience

the morning after i first met you
first saw you
i stopped under a Chicago city awning
leaned over a carrel of pebbles
reached in blind
and pulled out a stone in the shape of a heart
at the time
i thought that i would take it home to my girlfriend at the time
but i didnt

there arent many things i hold on to for more than a few months
this is one
a year later
i found the stone in the bottom of a Diesel watch case
i wrote a poem called to do list
where i promised to give the rock to a girl who i loved
one that would find security in these arms
something about it all stings like a reminder
that patience is a virtue worth becoming

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Day 849: frustration

there are no lines caught in the back of my throat
no promise for something magical
i am a ocean that has lost its salt
a tree without its roots
something about me is cracked
broken at the base
and i am trying to hard to rebuild these ashes into something worthy of being remembered
but right now
im not even worthy of this moment
i am waiting for the poet to come back
continuing without her feels so wrong

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Day 848: Harry potter

10 years ago, today
we left our reality at the ticket office and for most of us
for the first time
let our hearts believe that magic existed
that we could rise from the monotony of these ashes
phoenix ourselves a promise for tomorrow
destiny born into the frame of a train barreling off into the morning
gave us something to believe in
in the forms of our selves
so we starting singing incantations to our morning
waking up to the miracle of our bodies
leaning to live up to its promise
and believing
that flight was real
and born in us all

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Day 847:

bend over backwards
build me into your body
hold me there like promise
secret me a tie
hang me from your window
breathing into your morning
ill hold on like its perfect
like im bending and not broken
distance is a lie
we told ourselves at birth
we hold ourselves up higher
straight and narrow backs
bending into morning
i am still hanging out your door
there is nothing here but waiting
waiting is the only way
when distance is a lie
and time never learned to fly
and rhyming brings the night
we fall over our corners
we are built into these bodies
we look for a new home
and realize the promises keep us tied
maybe ill hang here forever
maybe ill fall tomorrow
either way you are across the horizon
and my eyes will not be moved

Monday, November 14, 2011

Day 846: not ready

i owe you a poem
but i am not ready to write it just yet
so ill just sit here
picking at the dead skin that's too stubborn to fall
waiting for someone to tell me its time

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Day 845: applications

i will write these essays
as if i am proud of myself
where i have been
where i am going
and i know i should be
and i know i am
but there are still mornings i wake up
worrying that i still have it in me to fail
to pull back and run away
and then i remember you smile
and your touch
and the way you waited for me to realize
that i needed you to stay
how i expected all the worst
and got only the best
from you
i think abou that
and wonder
why im writing essays to schools on every corner of this continent
when all i really want is to be with you

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Day 844: a different way of missing you

there are days i write poems for love
and then there are days
i find myself looking for anything but
looking for space enough to pretend that i could live a day
without needing
you are the reminder that i am weak
and in need
that i cannot fill a moment without longing to be at your side
that there is no spine in this backbone of mine
standing alone is no option
when i am not whole
just half of what we are when you are here
i find myself looking for something else
something safer
those are the days i cannot write about love
because it requires too much of me
require i admit
i am far less than i should be

Friday, November 11, 2011

Day 843: road trip

i want to build you a road
spinning into the horizon
a song etched into the shoulder
a poem beveled onto the spine
a line running
these hands of mine
are made of mortar
were born to spin this concrete into a castle
but this distance
has got me wanting to putt everything i have as thin as i can
to reach you
by morning
to touch a part of you
as soon as can

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Day 842: Glass parade

it has been said
that my body was born to fit this shape
a crystal chandelier hanging over your overpass
iʻve always been see-through a fragile
sometimes beautiful
most times
out of place
a highway full on speeding steel is no place for something so breakable
i stay here anyway

iʻve been for a a glass parade
shards dancing into place
trying to find meaning in my weakness
ever since the last time i was shattered i am the off beat some people call syncopated
others call missing
out of place
you are the only hands iʻve ever felt that have the strength to make sense of my rhythm
to put me back in place
to make a symphony out of all this broken
but youʻre certainty
sends me in circles
because all i have ever wanted is to a beat the cement of that over pass
the steel holding the engine block
something fast, strong and reliable to carry you through this darkness
but instead
i am the sharp edges you caress in your palms
when you tell me
ʻits okay
tomorrow will be better
i will hold you soonʻ
all i want to do is scream
for my inconsistencies
my inability to be for you
what you are so clearly
for me

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

DAy 841: weather

she loved me for my climate
the temper of my skin tone
the magma in my blood
how everything about me could make her sweat
keep her unsteady
i wonder how she would love me
cold in every crevice
nothing about me ready to hold her

teach me to be the perfect kind of forever
a simple kind of balance
something that makes sense

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Day 840: gone

this morning
i wrote a song for your side of the bed
she refuses to sing
until you return

Monday, November 7, 2011

Day 839: its just the sting talking, dont mind me. dont think this means anything.

you learn with time,
it never hurts any less to be lied to.
to find out its not the string its who the end is tied to.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

day 838: morality

we werte told our bodies were built of dust
will fall to ash
and fall in between the crack
keep falling falling
until there is no more center to fall
if only we knew if falling was taking you down or to center
it seems both
but one
more infinite than the other
the idea of endlesness
and infinity has got me running circles hoping that not everything round can be a spiral and someone can show me a corner to hide in
a edge called stop loss
and ending
cuz there is nothing more frightening
than imagining your death and being reminded that there is infinity of living you must do beyond it
leave me at peace
let me forget
go dark
and silent

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Day 837:

trying to get myself to write
but pulling lines from these veins
wont do anything for the dozens of pounds pushing their way on the inside of my skull
i have tried to fashin myself a shark skin drum
to fill the case in my chest

but the pounding wont play any music for the damned
no writing for the lonely

Friday, November 4, 2011

Day 836: i hate being sick

im having a hard enough time sitting up in bed
to wait

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Day 835: san jose

i am trying to write a poem for this airport
the way the steel suffocates
makes every emotion i have evaporate
but today i have no words
just movement
and the silence of this moment
loneliness in the terminal

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Day 834: the 10th poem i've written for you called distance

i like to write you poems most when you are standing before me
when i can feel the weight of your breath from the other end of the room
the way your chest expands and makes the space between us collapse
how every part of my body
forgets its mother tongue
in the moment
i am the most sacred kind of silence

i am just the fumbling clicks of a keyboard
the tumbling turn of a hard drive
the repetition of it all
reminded me of your chest
rising and falling
but nothing about this moment makes me collapse
doesnt dare remind me of your love
i am a birdcage of feathers expanding
waiting to be pushed beyond my limits
waiting to break and fall
crash in silence
under the hum of a keyboard while you continue with whatever part of your day you are living now

on nights like these
i am anything but the masterpiece you are worthy of
the furthest thing from
the language will come to our children in their first breath
i am the awkward stutter sticking out of a fluid family of vowels
i feel like im made of edges
constructed with cracks
and gravity and distances are rubber bands pulling me in every direction other than yours

this is the only kind of poem i can write from this end of a computer screen
when i can see you
burning half smiles into the edges of your lips
catching my prayers in the roots of your teeth
cuz seeing all of this means nothing
if i cannot feel the way the air collapses
in our presence
when all the gods in the room realize
they were just taking time
saving our place
until we could find each other again
until our palms are resewn into this story
until our bodies are buried back into this ocean
until the atmosphere is released from you chest
and we remember what its like
to breathe

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Day 833: Kamakawiwoole

i've been wondering lately what it means
to be of this family
and its oceans
its blood
its water
wondering what it means for eyes to have no fear
to be of this name
what does it means of me
when i am full of fear
and nothing much else to hold the rest of the pieces together
how am i to be
full of wonder
future and strength
anything but fear
how am i any of this
if i cannot stand alone
face any part of this future
in the eye

Monday, October 31, 2011

Day 832: distance

she is sandstorm eyes
whitewash lips
stanzas stuck to the back of her throat
lines tracing off into eternity
a song waiting to be written
a poem in process
every part of me that moves starts somewhere under her skin

i am callouses on my knuckles and palms
a song burnt into every one
heart full of growth
a body pushed to burst
love left in the liner notes
a secret scratched into the margins
a kiss for her tomorrow
a new promise

together we are half a body of goosebumps
a moleskin full of dreams
3 kids and a backyard
short walks during sunrise
afternoon naps
a bent fretboard
music everywhere

someday maybe even a completed poem

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Day 831:

feeling your body collapse under me
makes me wonder
how much of you will stay
when you leave

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Day 830:

i always feel her leaving
even in her coming
she is going away again
so i hold her close to my chest
tell her 'i am here,
i am not going anywhere'
look her square in the eye
until she understands

Friday, October 28, 2011

Day 829: when

when you find someone who loves you
holds you like you are the only way to be warm
like the only tomorrow is the singe of green behind your eyes
hold her like she is always leaving
because when she does
you will wish
you had built her a damn in the center of your chest
pray for those moments back
the mornings you awoke stuck to her skin
the kisses that dissected the day
the moments you sent prayers into her body with your lips

when someone loves you in a way that makes you stutter
makes you shake
covers half your body with goosebumps
loves you like answers
and promises
and stability
you will not look back any longer
you wipe out your hard drive
of all the memories you no longer need
keep only the ones that taught you how to be human
how to love back in a way that doesnt dissolve
that will stick to the back of her tongue like peanut butter and nutella
and promise her every morning will be a poem
every kiss a premonition
and that every tomorrow will be found in the distance behind her eyes

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Day 828: suck my kiss

one kiss every night
to go with all you have missed
my arms around you

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

DAY 827: aint gonna be in my biography

She didn’t taste the way I expected
I thought any body would bend to fit mine
I was wrong
We spent 20 minutes too long thrwing poems into eacothers chest while we fumbled with our hands
My phone vibrating in my back pocket
Another voicemail
Another reminder that the woman bellow me wasn’t mine
And wouldn’t be worth it
I didn’t stop

I didn’t like the way her hands crinkled against the back of my neck
Felt like too much desert
Too much sand storm
Too much to be picked and scraped off when the night was over
I washed my hands packed my bag
And called my girlfriend
she was silent in her ignorance
I was
Something different
I was something distant
I was something, for sure

I worte poems for her on the plane ride home
About magnetism
And bodies
Lied myself into lust
Because the distance made it something more interesting
i was a coward
i said i was growing
you believed it
so i just kept moving

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Day 826: discipline

there are few things in this world i hold to be absolutely true
if we take family to be self evident
then its just the oceans, my mountains,
and you
that i was born to see the beauty in crashing and rising again
a pheonix built into ever bend
its the same with the mountains
the ridges i learned to find home in
how they could fold over me in the form of a halo
hold me in its bosom
i see nothing but beauty in bends upon bends upon bends
curves crashing to the surface
its the same way i would learn to love you whole and boneless
free in movement
how i take every part of your body wondering how my curves will hold it
if you let me
i'd draw every fragment curve you have into a symphony

this is not a promise
this is loving you in practice
this is the actualization of imperfection and its inherit beauty
the build before the crash
the parts of you i try to hold steady
but cant
because anytime my hands come close enough to where you are most human
you stutter into secret
shrink into the distance

but i wanna love you like rainfall
contained and endless
hold you like the bends in the ocean
wanna build you a body you'll call a fortress
just with my kiss
forget the stitches
this is not about repair and rebuilding
this is about perspective
and the way i've learned to see so much more than single moments
how you've turned into something ageless and frequent

i dream you a place in my body
wondering if you'd be able to love it
if it were yours
like we say i am
can you hold me
curved bended and endless
could you love me mountain
and ocean
the parts of me that you cannot stand of yourself
or are we doomed to be the limited definitions tangled at forevers ankles

find me a place at the base of your promise
i will learn to stay there and build potential from your secrets
from the scars where your negative space begins
because i can see so much of you phantomed into shadow
i know you can feel its itch
its sting
from the way you move around yourself
trying not to get caught standing still
and i am so terrified
that i will watch more of you disappear before my eyes

so let me be your new definition
find a home for yourself in my ocean
learn the way it only moves in bends
that every part of life
is a curve, spiral or circle
that nothing human is straight and flattened
you deserve more than what you have interpreted
let me show you where it all ends and begins
we will find you a vision
something arching into the distance
something made of my image
maybe then you will finally understand the difference
between beautiful
and disciplined

Monday, October 24, 2011

Day 825: i do not need to be reminded of my passive aggressiveness

i made a pledge
not to let your silence turn me inside out
not to scrape the last bits of me from this cavity
not to remember
how long it was i wanted you whole while you wanted only parts of me
scattered across your bedroom floor
not that most days i felt like you loved me convenient
especially in the end
that i was poster and picture worthy
something to hang above the mantle
as you let foreign bodies sweat on the same pillows i fell in love with you on
while i learned to leave a half of my heart open to anyone but you
someone else with a pretty smile and light eyes
who'd take me whole
or build these pieces back into a fortress
this is how i learned to forget our promise
our potential
our future
and in silence
its what kept me standing upright and heavy
kept me from floating away

it the same reason i will try to keep the silence
not let you feel the way your tug can pull me back at your convenience
that i have learned to be more steady
found myself heavier anchors
and made new promises
one will a girl whos eyes wants to keep them
who holds me in distance
in love
in everything you were afraid to do
were "too young" to do

sometimes its not about timing
sometimes it about patience
and a miss matched pairing
sometimes its about not being right at all
maybe we were no comfort and all fall
not high and all crash
maybe we were just adrenaline junkies getting our fix
or maybe we were one too many mistakes to fix either way i learning to not mind the silence
to become accustomed to you trying to come and go
learning not to be a swinging door

so yes,
to answer your question
i am here
i am okay
i am all these things i have always been
just a little stronger
and a little less willing to allow myself to fall back into your tsunami

Sunday, October 23, 2011

DAy 824: sunrise

no matter how hard
the night, morning brings me home
to where i love you

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Day 823:

i find myself wearing worry on my skin like a promise
like relationships are tied by the number of tears iʻve manage to force in the miles between our bodies
im running out of ways to say this
out of weight to old us together
when the ends fray
i find my insides stuttering trying to escape
i am terrified of the ways i will hold on
how i have a tendency of doing this for too long
never learned how to stop
how to quit
only ever remmeber being quit on
and trying to work my way back in
you are the first girl in 3 years that i havent thought of as the "other woman" or replacement
or rebound
or doomed
or taking space
or taking time
or healing me
or anything other than perfect
and future
and its scary to think
i could be on a three year cycle of broken hearts and weak glue
im wondering where nights like these fit
in the grand scheme of things
if tis is called doubt
or something else

maybe its just a realization ofthe miles
maybe its the alcohol
maybe its the stench of fear creeping its way into our haven
a place we called safe before we even created
i wonder how it ends
i try not to think too far past tomorrow
i get to excited
and excited scares me
because iʻve been there before with someone else
and excited doesnt hold the edges together
wont melt us into a mold we can hold
wont do anything but make things worse
if we cant find another way
to keep us steady

Friday, October 21, 2011

Day 822: Card Homes and Birdcages

there is a house of cards
built around my heart
i wonder if it fell
would we hear it crumble
would it stutter to the tip of my skin
make you tremble?

i guess what i really want to know is
when the small parts inside of me move
the gears that continue
do you feel the vibration
the parts of me that are begging to be let free to attach themselves somewhere sacred on your body
the last night i held you
could you feel every part of my breath trying to find a home under your skin
to build a birdcage of promises you wouldn't be able to release
or how the first morning you awoke in my arms how
the moisture that kept us tangled
tried to seep into you palms
in the story you have creased there
wanting to be a part of your day
something youʻd share with every person youʻd encounter

this house of cards was born to fall
like a castle built on the shore
there is too much water rising in me to keep things settled
even for my best interest
and iʻve have spent too many mornings trying to be the calm women want to marry
want held in the base of wrist
today i am a rising wave
a falling current
something trying to pull you away
can you feel the vibration at your ankles
the tremble at the base of your spine
trying to spin you into a forever that doesn't leave
feel me wrapping myself around you
as the deck collapses
13 hearts splattered face up
caught in my linoleum ribcage
a club and spade each
for every reminder
for every morning i woke up missing your texture
watch as the diamonds slip through the cracks
the shine of material things in life i thought i was supposed to want and have
and instead
here i am digging us a home in the sand
waiting for all the pieces and sharp edges to settle
hoping youʻll still be here
beside me
when they do
hoping that the hallow cavity drum in my chest
doesnt scare you away
but reminds you of a birdcage
one i hid in your spine
whilee i tried to give something broken
a new meaning
full of promises
a few that you may want to give to me
in return

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Day 821: okie dokey pokie

this is no poem
not something to remember
just a cry, for help

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

DAy 820: Heart

grandpas got a broken heart
it stutters in the heat
you can find him skipping a beat under paddles
someone yelling clear
someone close crying
i wonder what it has to do with my grandmother
and the shards of her he carries in the soles of his shoes
in the smile of his new wife
how he left clara behind
wonder how the walking away felt
how he can quote arguments for the sanctity of marriage
the way my grandmother had to wait years before leaving him
i wonder how it feels
to be a stutter
a reminder of mistakes made
wonder how often he thinks about her smile
or the way her back would bend
wonder if he even remembers

my grandfatherʻs got a broken heart
a small stammer
stiched and sewn back together
i wonder how many times my grandmother would have liked to lay under the same currents
jolt herself back into breathing
how much better she was at hiding
being broken
and left behind

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

819: Failed haiku: we do not fit

i do not forgive
the way you made me fall in
i am still finding


Monday, October 17, 2011

Day 818: revision

remember that silence
the one that fills the room like tear gas in your absence
the one i wrote about with clocks melted into sand
a sundyle bent into our wrists

remember the nights i tried to break time
strangle its father between my fingertips
burn every part of this distance with the gun powder promises in my palms
this is the reason i keep you awake into the morning
because i am afraid of being left alone in this darkness
afraid of the way you hold me hostage

theres a reason why you are the poem i rewrite every evening
after youʻve fallen into silence
its the same reason why i hope roll into consciousness early enough to beat you into the morning
praying to be the only one to shake the sleep from your spine
untangle you from your dreams
wishing that the few characters i send you through the night can make up for my failing limbs
we are in constant revision
and iʻve never been able to look at he same poem for this long without wanting to be rid of it
i have always asked for someone elseʻs perspective
but tonight i want every single one of my loved ones to stay silent
i will not allow them to ruin this
to encourage the doubt i already know how to grow alone
i am choosing faith
and you
and hoping by morning
you will understand what exactly is it i mean

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Day 817:

i've found a forest forged behind your eyes
its the kind of place
you find tomorrows frozen with the promises of yesterdays
so struck by twilight
makes me wonder if time exist there
or if maybe
i'm enchanted by the idea that we could be held still
in our own gravity
that we wouldnt have to measure our relationship in our cross continental movements
the vibrations my lips send to yours in Morse code over the ocean
or the words i fly to you through the Internet
there are so many ways we've learned to count our distance
measure our love
in promises
and the few secrets we've allowed to float to the surface
i wonder how many are left
keeping our anchors tangled
i am getting better at waiting
by the minute
each 60 seconds that passes is another check i can place on my side of the scale
keeps me balanced

but when the evening comes i am reminded
the tidal wave in my chest is far from fallen
that most mornings begin with a dam fracturing in the pit of my stomach
a minor chord stinging just scratching the surface
when i roll over to see there is nothing but land and oceans between our bodies
i remember the wave that could carry even the heaviest pieces of our story into promise
everything i have is trying to break its way into your body
to the forest behind your eyes
if you're wondering why it seems like im looking through you tonight
its because something about you has turned this storm into silence
and all im trying to do is build myself a home somewhere in the center of that forest

do not let the weight of this gaze scare you
and ill promise that every time i am startled by the depth of our distance
that i will remember the way you found a still summer in my chest
how your smile flattened the tides
made me feel almost solid
like i could be permanent
that you might
be the reason
i havent settled the seas
just yet

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Day 816: 34 days, 14 hours, 48 minutes

give me a moment for the distance
to settle on the back of my tongue
before you leave
a second to watch the walls surrounding my body crumble in your departure
a minute to adjust to the bitter bite of it all
how it doesnt settle
its toxic burn
contaminates every part of me
a day to get used to this displacement
the pull of wanting you closer but not being able to reach out to you

just a few of these
get me to tomorrow
to next week
to some obscure date in the future
that only exists on calendars
i feel like all i am is counting backwards
all this is
is cat and mouse
you chase me
ill chase you back
but where's home base when all we have are miles between us
something about it doesnt settle
even this poem
has no direction
and something about me feels like cracking
down the center
a fracture to bring in the morning
wishing you would take a step closer to hold me together
with your hands like ivy
come here and heal the parts of me that never learned to live in pieces
never learned to smile through the mess like you do
i cannot seem to pretend

when you came to me
you forgot to mention the miles written into your loves lines
the deception you forgot to mention
that you'd be able to love me like this
not worried that it may tear me apart
it makes me feel like moving
like running
like turning around and screaming
taking on this distance
make it tangible
cuz now
all it is
is google maps on repeat
travelosity on my favorites
wondering when the fairs will be low
and the time right
to give you a moment of me whole
before i return to this side of the country
where its always warm
everything is beautiful
and i am in pieces

Friday, October 14, 2011

Day 815:

"There is nothing more desperate than a wordsmith struggling to forge something meaningful and failing"

i've taken your poems
and found a place for each on my body
trying to make myself worthy of your words
my lips ready for the contour of your body
this is where i fail at doing you justice
where i forget how to hold you from a distance
this is where i am tremble and fall and hope you see enough of the intention to make my stammering worth it

the first night i held you
i could feel every wall around me crumble
one for every fracture
you found parts of my heart that hadnt moved for anyone in months maybe years
and turn my story inside out with your sigh
all i wanted was to make a home for myself somewhere behind your breath
where i swear your strength would lie
i could feel every amp of it pushing at my body
trying to carry me forward

sometimes when i open my eyes
i find myself looking past you
into someting that isnt there yet
but something i want
it taste like a stability i was never able to conjure
and makes me wonder
if i'll ever get used to the weight of this bed
when you are not kepping one half of it down

this is a poem for the morning
the ones i found you smiling, surprisingly
the ones that showed me how to love you properly
the ones i think of when i am trying to fall asleep
that tomorrow there will be no perfectly bent back before me
no lips to lead me forward
just an empty half of the bed
and the cold side of the pillow
one i forgot to turn
because i was thinking too much about you hands resting on the back of my neck
your lips on mine
to be anywhere tangible
to be in any kind of universe that would put you
too far away for me to know
you are breathing
for me

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Day 814: distance

she says it helps knowing that im here
sitting on the other end of the computer
i could be a million miles away but still with her
its 2572 miles
and i understand
because the more pixeled smiles i can capture
save for a rainy day
the less i know shes giving away to someone else
its a selfish thing to know about yourself
that the way you want her is lonesome and complete
that every other body in-between you is just an obstacle
you are trying to defeat

its true
i want you all and only
do not misunderstand me
i am no good at sharing
but loving your from a distance means becoming comfortable with not knowing
being free of the particulars
and trying not to see you hand in hand with someone else
trying not to be that mind that wanders
or the heart that follows out of fear
im trying to learn to stay here
be more present
but all im thinking about at night when your out is the single day it took to break a two year relationship down the middle
how a single moment of distance turned into my next 100 years and me unable to forgive or move on
or trust anyone with light eyes and a crooked smile
my heart is not a wooden box you can leave on the mantle
its a class cage without a handle
its something you need both palms to cradle
and this distance makes it hard to believe
that every moment i am not with you
on the other end of the computer is a moment you sit there holding me steady
even if you give me every reason to believe
i still find myself getting caught in the mirrors in your eyes
when i look at you
some nights
all i can see is my past taunting me
telling me you are too good to be true
too beautiful to be mine
so i keep my glass cage as far as i can from your thundering hands when you are gone
and try to be ready
when the distance closes
and i find myself reaching into you from across the room

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Day 813: moving forward

i am worried i cannot carry myself into the future
with these words
they seem to fall too close to past
maybe my biggest peak has passed
and i'll always be the 18 year old you did poetry for obama
but never lived a life worthy of any other story
i realize this is not a problem
this is a 21 year old complaining about privileged
and worrying about potential and currents
rather than focusing on whats current

i just want to feel like i have something else in me
other than history
that i may actually have the ability to change the world
or at least witness it shatter
this is a broken promises turned to a question
knowing no poem with hold an answer
this is the back end of every performance
the moment i know it is ending
the smile on their faces with fade while they forget me
forget this
and i will again be left
at the foot of another strange bed
in a city i havent learned to find comfort in
watching abc
as the night turns to morning
waiting for my shuttle
to take me somewhere new

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Day 812: i wonder where the good poems went and when theyll come back

i wonder if the steel under your feet is rattling
the same way i feel these California plates quake in the moments i am most alone
whats the vibration feel like over middle America
does the altitude sting the same as this absence
like im being held hostage at 40 thousands feet
about to drop
or is the pressurized cabin
the artificial company
enough to make the difference in this distance
i want to cover myself in your promises
find which ones fit without having to stretch and bend
want to learn the way you trace your tongue across language
and your process from scribbling down the words that mean most to us both
i am having troubler writing about you
because i do not know how to do this justice
and im reminded that there is no shame in loving you off this page
that i do not need to write a perfect metaphor
or the perfect line to know
that when i wake up tomorrow and you arent here
it will be the worst kinda of way
to start my day

Monday, October 10, 2011

Day 811: haiku

beautiful, you are
like magic. you disappear
and im the one lost

Sunday, October 9, 2011

DAy 810:

for every poem still stuck under my skin
every word i havent had the courage to say yet
i will give you a kiss
to fill the space weʻve created with our promises
a black hole for our potential
here is a secret
i loved you without this body
when you were here
that was just an explosion
a combustion i had hidden under my skin for months

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Day 809: where my mind goes when it wanders

our son would be born of oceans and heat waves
things that can be felt in their movement
he will carry our every fracture in his shoulder blades
ever secret in his clavicle
a collar bone built of promises and tomorrows
potential born into every breath
the parts of our getaways that seem too fleeting,
we will find them in the craters of his skin

he will have a smile for every time we made love
and we will recognize them
know each by name and date
by the way our body bent and curled into each other
there will be a star named in his honor for every morning he wakes crying for his mother
a moon for every morning we dont know which one he is reaching for
for the beauty in our own unknown
the darkness we will carry ourselves into willingly

he will have a softness about him
that can only be explained by having two women who couldnt love any harder if they tried
will fall asleep best to the sound of pens scratching against paper at midnight
the way you etch cursive promises into eternity
or the clank of a keyboard at dawn
the softness found in the release during sunrise
he will know the different between a love poem and psalm
just by the rhythm
will know our love better than i will ever be able to write
will know how it is released in lines
hammers sometimes

he will know your strength from the curves caught in your eyes
from the lines carved into your navel
the pain left behind in the potential
and mine
by the tear in every smile
the crack in my palms
and the callouses on my knuckles

he will have my fathers voice
and your fathers hands
your brothers laughter
and my brothers wonder

he will learn to love from the way we gaze into each others eyes
knowing that there is nothing more pure
nothing that cannot be found here
in his home
the one we made
when we cut the distance in half
and threw our fears to the wind

the first night we bring him home
he will sleep between our bodies
it will be the first time in years that anything
separates us
and it will be
the most beautiful kind of distance

Friday, October 7, 2011

Day 808: patience

i learned to call you distance
hold you space
find myself hiding in the margins
our movements created
the wake of our displacement
its a current i couldn't keep myself from falling for
today you are now
you are here
you are close
and tangible
you are embodied
and i am muscle memory
finding myself searching for a new way to hold something beautiful
a way that doesnt leave fractures
you werent born in pieces
i was just born with hammers for hands
and a heart without patiences
and yet i am waiting
for you to rise
under me
and for me to be ready to hold you there

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Day 807:

i hoard sea shells on my last weeks home
take them across the ocean
and hold them up to my ears
the sound of crashing waves might make me feel at peace
at home
this distance is something iʻm always struggling with
more when i am lonely
these weeks iʻve been too lonely
to feel anything but longing
and theres nothing here to hold me
not a single wave
or tide to pull me
books books book
and people people people
trying to get through them
no one is listening
because there are no waves here to distract us

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Day 806: wine and cheese

so im sitting in my room
if te fact that i haven't had the slightest desire to take a drink at a party in weeks
means im depressed
and im thinking what kind of backwards ass bullshit is that
but all i know
is every circle i find myself near makes me feel obtuse and alone
and no one here moves to the rhythm quite like me
im out of the beat
and they are out of their minds
slinging liqueur into the night like pixie dust
and not a single girl here is made of home
not a single one with a voice like dial tones
everyone is alone alone alone
and drinking themselves into company
into seeing multiple
into love
and im in the coner witnessing it all
all the fake

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Day 805: a song

i think i was here before. not anymore. but i was definitely here once.

You don’t call my name
Don’t call my phone
Don’t leave a message at the tone
You don’t love me the way I love you
Don’t hold me babe
What should I do

You don’t have a plan to get me back
But im waiting here keeping track
We shooting stares like give and take
We’ve got everything we need to break

Its 5 minutes til curtain call
One drink left and ill give you all
My broken love promises
Just to pretend that we exsit

Its 5 tries this time its 6
No charms just persistence
It’s the reason im still in bed
It’s the reason im still in bed

Monday, October 3, 2011

Day 804: A moment of Silence

i tried to write silence into a poem once
for two girls who melted along their mother in the morning
the ambers charred the back of my throat
made it hard to breath
even harder to speak
i let numbers do the talking and set myself in the margins

today i tried do to the same
and then i realized
there are too many child skeletons
buried beneath my feet
too many bodies
dangling elsewhere
in the margins of a story i never finished
because it seems too much like real life
because it felt to real to know that we had been saying goodbye to children for too long
that i have become too accustomed to the fleeting nature of life
and this silence
does nothing for my breath
doesnt let me heal
im still burning in the back of my throat
there are still mothers and fathers left to feel the phantom tug of a child's hand
i wonder if the phantoms grow stronger and taller with the years
its something i ope to never know

its been 6 years
i still remember the look in your eyes when you told the doctor you could taste the chemo on the back of your tongue
i imagined it tasted like alcohol
when i was put under in 2008 and in 2010
the anesthetic felt like it was setting my body on fire
i tought of you
and the silence you left in your wake
the way every song we sing was just an orchestra behind your fathers wail
something i will never have the courage to call beautiful
i still hear him
in the instrumental of certain songs
cant listen to "the days of my youth" for too long
cant look my father in the eyes when he plays
because i know someday
it will be
either me or him
leaving and the other watching the fade
cant hold my mothers hand for too long
it feels to much like goodbye and letting go

you are still so much here
sometimes i forget what you feel like
remember that i didnt know you that well
but that seeing you leave
took more from me in one moment than i think ill ever give again

you are more than silence
more than a smile
more than a promise
a timestamp
a sundyle
you are the brightest part of every sunrise
the beauty we get to witness
you are the strong parts of me that refuse to break
that refuse to stay quiet
you are love
you are love
you are everything i mean when i say love

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Day 803: bronte

i had an idea for a poem
but it slipped away
i think it had something to do
with a smile i found stuck under my skin
something you slipped under me in passing
in leaving
so i will wait here for the idea to return
youʻll come back with it

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Day 802:

this is a poem for everytime you seem to slip away
i pull you closer in
for the moments we spent grappling with our feelings
throw eachother through loopholes
trynna make it mean something
this is a poem for the silence
the moment before the click
the silence of the line
the silence of the space
we took to clear our selves

Friday, September 30, 2011

Day 801: to the women who love the poet in me (revision)


you will revel in the way I say your name
how the weight bounces off the concret
you will wait for me to open your doors
to sing you to sleep
to fling songs into your body as your pulse under me
you will call it sexy
I, will not know any other way to keep myself from falling into you completely
I will keep singing

you let your hand fall just a little farther from you body
begging me to hold you
and will
i will kiss your cheek
your wrist
your lips
when i kiss your forehead
a part of me will jump through my body and take home in yours
you will not feel my entry
but i will feel my own absence
something about it will leave me feeling empty
so I will keep singing

you will watch me on tv
on youtube
on your phone
at a friends house
when I gain the confidence to walk across the room to introduce myself
and extend my hand
you will say you know me
I will be surprised and not understand what you mean
But excited at the possibility that maybe
You were that spirit I felt the night before
On stage
you will see me perfected
the parts of me i practice in front of mirrors
only what is left after iʻve been cut and edited
you will see me then
stripped of all my human
and you will want to be apart of the masterpiece
of the story
want me to be your introduction to women who dress and sing like me
want me to hold you
because my hands are softer than your boyfriends
and i know how to make your body move right
you will want me then
and i will let you
Take a piece of every poem
Call it your own
When you say
That every time I read a love poem that you wish it were about you
I will write you your own
You will be terrified and will not listen
Not hear the words
Just see my body moving on stage
Call it anything other than honest
You will be wrong
I will be hollow

when i fall in love
you will think you are lucky
that you have caught the uncatchable
That I have written my last love poem for the beautiful things I see
you will think you are special
that you can be the one to tie my hands behind my back
make me yours
you will only be partially wrong
you will think you love me because your heart drowns when you think of the tsunamis behind my voice
but you will not be ready to see me after the curtains close
when the imperfect parts find their way home
when i am not so memorized and refined
you will wonder why you came to me in the first place
you never wanted human
you wanted magic
the flashing lights
the stage presence
the tears iʻve shed on stage

you will call my vulnerability sexy
but only when you are drinking it from the other end of my microphone
you will not want to stay and listen through the night
not know why i need to be told
what your love means
you will not understand when i need you to count the ways
over and over
until its etched into the center of my chest
how I will ask you again before you are finished
you will not know how I wait for you to reach our your hand a little further from your body
how i will need to held every once and a while
need someone imperfect to call me beautiful
to see me
in all the worst lights
when the words don’t come out right
and nothing rhymes
and my hands are too heavy
and you are not rising under me

I will need you to try
To look into
my ugly
my insecure
my love
my human
and maybe
and maybe
And maybe
still want
to stay the night

Thursday, September 29, 2011

DAy 800: What i didnt do this summer

there was no morning after
no stale taste to turn bitter on my tongue
that had already long faded
my body had forgotten your touch
your breath
the weight of your palms
resting on my back
there was only a phone call
10 digits to dial
a conversation
when i heard your voice drop
the way it had before
you did not love me

i ripped the posters from my walls
the reminders
the pictures and the smiles
bleached every sheet you ever slept on
trying to remove your scent
i fell in love with beautiful women
tied their smiles to my skin
promised myself
a smile was enough to take me into the morning
every morning
i played chicken with time
wagering my ability to sleep in this silence
hoping iʻd wake with some kind of humanity

i told my sister not to fall in love
wrote poems about moving on
wrote poems about loving other women
loved other women
kissed other women
when i missed you
i would call
other women

i went to my parents wedding
realized love could last
that since ours didnt
i wasnt enough
or i did something
so i drank my weight in mamosas
remembered to myself how the last time i had one
was when you broke my heart to bring in the new year
it tasted the same
like the rust was clearing from my chest
i didnt like the way its weight hovered over my tongue
so i puked on my church lawn
had to be carried home
wondered how many people were ashamed to know me
as the girl who couldn't keep you around

i did not stop writing poems
about you
i just stopped thinking they were worth
stopped thinking i was worth anything
so i let myself seep into the skin of beautiful women
i let you seep into the skin of unworthy men
but maybe they were worthy-er than i
i let myself believe it was for the best
maybe it was

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Day 799: why

you are the kind of woman who leaves me body barren
the kind who will not stay
even when i beg
i find myself scraping through the parts of your breath that are left behind
how much of you was ever really here
i want to whisper things
but you will not hear me
i try to pull you closer
you cannot feel me
will not stay
will not stay
cannot stay

but why?

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Day 798: water

you are water
i love you
but i cannot hold you
i know you
only by the way you fall through me
wash over me
in episodes
like waves
only in the way i know you absences leaves me
dry and pulled
like gravity
like a tide
somehow controlled by a moon
but most nights
it is too foggy in san fransisco to see anything but black
the seasons are changing
the only good that will bring is rain
more water to remind me of how iʻve failed to keep every single one of my promises
to every single one of my hearts
how they are strung across this country like lanterns
a constant reminder of how thin iʻve been stretched
how resistant i am to planting roots
how every time iʻve tried
iʻve been planted too deep for anyone to see me glowing still

Monday, September 26, 2011

Day 797:

split me horizontal
lay me belly up
on the sidewalk
watch me dry
you can pass by
leave me to be changed
when you come back
i will be smaller than you remembered
but beautiful as ever
i will still want you
but wont remember
the wanting will be stuck somewhere under my skin
you will have to find it
a success it would be for the two of us
if you can stand the search

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Day 796: please

do not let me fall
back into you
not now
when i have done so well at letting go
at building these walls
at this baracade game
at saying no
telling the ones i love
these will be no bells
no whistles
no return of the blue eyed masterpiece
that we are through
and i am healthy
kind of
do not let me be weak
do not let me imagine
it will take me nowhere but back
and do nothing but break
and i have worked so hard recently at being whole
and without mistake
full of potential
of promise
so please
do not cradle me when i trip
rather remind me why we severed ourselves
remind me of the distance
and the lies we both made
and the boy and girl we both have the potential to hurt or heal
how i want to love something that wont shatter
how i know that cannot be us
please do not
let me

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Day 795: muscle memory

the muscleʻs memory is magnetic
will learn for you
if you allow it
to be precise in its movement
will store information when you become too lazy for practice
and when you return
will welcome you enough to show just what you once had
remind you
that not even magnets are forever
that the pull of time spent away will weaken your trade
but some3how there is space for improvement
there is a venue for picking up where you left off
moving forward in time
taking memory from past
into present

Friday, September 23, 2011

Day 794: college

the beer
will leave its stain
on everything it can
my shirt
your shorts
our hands
stickiness left as a reminder
that something exciting
much like a tornado passed through
we promised ourselves nights light these
they are gifts from the gods of homework and the bullshit of gerʻs
now we built camaraderie out of our tolerance
mark our names on the walls
anything that might help us remember
that we were here

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Day 793: gravity

"I do not need to write you a reminder"
the pages iʻve carved with your name already should be enough
that even when time, space and distance are all agaisnt us
is holding it down
for loves across the world
making us feel like we are almost in the same place
by the way our hearts drop during conversation
the way we are the opposite ends of a metronomes pendulum
the way we know of the others presence without ever colliding
our connection is the magic of physics
except some nights after i fall asleep you disappear
and when i cant find you
under my sheets
i wonder
who taught you to levitate away
and how do i
do the same

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Day 792: transit

burn me to your wings
i want to take flight on the flight of your disaster
hang myself to your gravity
and your resistance to all other laws
this is the kinda of poem we dont write cuz the shit aint ready
and it dont make sense
but you are flying over the pacific
so something has to come out of you
even in this darkness
you cannot stop trying to write through it
who else will remember for you
how to finish
what you have begun

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Day 791: waiting

i cannot feel the surface of my leg
it has hardened for the 7 hours of drilling
but theres something under the skin burning
i think its my grandmother caught behind the eyes of her pueo

tomorrow iʻm going back to cali
today my roots are burning
it seems so fitting
and yet i wish
things could just get easier as the time passes
the weight is heavier
your back is weaker
and the walk is much longer
im wondering how long i will carry this alone
until i sacrifice my pride
and curiosity
and ask someone to stay
only if she is willing to break in the morning
only if she can see herself in my reflection
only if she is willing to keep me

Monday, September 19, 2011

Day 790: what it means to leave

every year
leaving gets harder
maybe its the uneasiness of tomorrows
the fact that there are less to come than we can ever anticipate
growing older means
growing more comfortable with morality
or maybe its something else entirety

maybe its the scent of old tshirts being stored away again
wondering if they will be here when you return
or the look on your sisters faces
how one seems disappointed almost betrayed by your absence
the way you felt about your broterʻs
and the other
the other just wishes you would hold her more often
that you wouldve taken her to the movie like you promised
or that restaurant
or that park
how loving her
the way you do
means lying
and yelling
and pushing away
and yet
every time you leave
she hugs you like you couldnt be anything less than superman
how she forgives your every flaw and weakness in that moment
how you will spend you last night at home clinging to her
cuz she asks you if she can sleep in your bed
because somehow she knows
that tonight you feel empty
and you need someone to pretend that they need you so you can hold yourself up with their presence

maybe its the unbalanced luggage
how nothing seems to fit
you always have too much you arent willing to let go of yet
everything is heavy
and its hard to carry alone
but you fly coach
and the fairs are too steep to bring anyone else along for the ride
so you take this journey solitary

or maybe this time is special
maybe its the empty room thats waiting
without the girl
and the possibility of reuniting
the ability to be forgiven and forgive
maybe its the moving on
the practice of it all
how three years seems so long
until you think about the decades you promised to eachother
instead you just feel like a failure
maybe its that
there is no chance that you will run into her if you spend your afternoons drinking water at her favorite coffee shop
or visit friends in her building
maybe it is that this time you arent returning
you are just leaving

maybe its the stuffed dog that wont fit in any of your bags
from a girl whoʻs name that sometimes still gets stuck on your tongue
that carries the same name as someone you are trying not to think of
cuz theres another
one you love
whoʻs heart is folded neatly in your palm
and you are trying so hard to do right by her
and yourself
maybe you are wondering is he (the dog) should be left behind
but worry that you will fall apart without something to hold

maybe its the growing old
the uncertainty of it all
the fact that there are less tomorrows to come than we can ever anticipate
maybe its knowing what we do not know
and forgetting how to be blissful
in your ignorance

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Day 789: Haiku

18 days, 18
hours, 26 minutes
21 seconds

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Day 788: this poem is not called routine

there arent many things i do
every day
like ritual
other than those that have to do with hygiene
and writing poetry
because ts important
and necessary
but you
have worked your way into my routine
with your smile
and lips
and the curl of your laugh
i find myself doing a lot of the same things each day
in my pursuit of your attention
im not sure how to harness this kind of emotion
but i know
its the kind of thing that sticks to the roof of my mouth
some nights when i try to speak
nothing but peanut butter comes out
i am just a broken damn
with too many words to make sense of
all flying in your direction

i realize i dont write much about you
but i think
its because i try to write to uncover something iʻve forgotten
but you
you are too recent
too now
to be a memory
fading into the ocean
and i am too stubborn to be anything but a sensitive poet

this line is for the morning
and this for the night
for the parts of our days we spend alone
waiting for the sun to raise or fall on the other side of the world
that i am falling alseep to the same lonliness you wake to
that this poem
however unorganized
is just another record
of the things i do
to try to feel close to you
in this endless distance

Friday, September 16, 2011

Day 787: short

ill be your memory
if you can be my promise

Thursday, September 15, 2011

DAY 786: insecure

i will
for as long as i can look into the future
ask you how
when you tell me you love me
ask you to show me
because i am incapable of taking your word
for believing
i need to be reminded that i am worthy
in order for me to act
like i am worthy
that you are depending on me
on my ability to stay stable rock like

its 9pm
but its 3am somewhere in my body
iʻve been looking for you there
in the cracks of our time
i know these words are nonsensical
but listen if you can
there are parts of you that will come scratching to the surface
screaming to be heard
you will know i am too afraid to say your name out loud
unsure if you still feel the same
convinced that there is no way
that you could

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Day 785: this body

im not used to this kind of insecurity
havent felt this way in my body in months
maybe years
something about it doesnt feel right tonight
i find myself slipping into darkness
weary to cut myself from this ocean
from the moon
but everything about these tides are carrying me under
my body is abandoning me
and i am not
not prepared for this kind of reconstruction
not tonight

this is not a poem
these are just questions
silences im trying to fling out to the heavens
cuz no one here seems to understand
that tonight
i am terrified to be in my own skin
nothing about it fits
not the fear
the discomfort
i just wish
sheʻd find her way hear
help lift me
to the surface

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Day 784: Senior Goodbye

"Cheer up, Charli
give me a smile"

we sang these songs into the empty auditorium
into the rafters
into the trap doors beneath us
tried to make legends of ourselves
with music
written by dead white men
and yet
we were told these would be the moments we remembered
how the silence of applause would crack our voices
and we do
remember the rehearsals
the hours spent in confined spaces learning to move our bodies in unatural ways
the orange hair die
but most of all
the promises we made not to change
how we lied to every single one of our best friends
weʻd be together forever
that we are always just a phone call away
when nothing could be further from the truth
how now
our bodies are built of steel cages
like factory gates
no one go in
no one comes out

Monday, September 12, 2011

Day 783: without a guide

if it cannot be you
to teach me
how will i learn to hold with both hands
and all of this body
if it cannot be you
how will i learn
to love one woman
with passion
until i am underground
until i am foundation building
roots to someones favorite tree
a 100 years from now
i want my stone to say
i loved her beautifully
loved her like oceans
that at every turn
we were a tide pulling and pushing
building and building

but if you cant seem to manage that
where am i supposed to learn
so difficult
so scary

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Day 782: not sure

You think I don’t write poems for you anymore
But iʻve sung a new song for you for every morning Iʻve woken up thinking you were beside me
I sleep with extra space on my bed
In case the version iʻve created of you in my dreams
Decides that your home could actually be the places I wait for you
To appear
I love you with every passive aggressive bone in my body
Every snide remark
Every boil of jealously
And every smile
Every touch
Every song iʻve ever sung
Somedays this brings me comfort
I want to fling myself from the highest building
Take any woman in the wings worth waiting for
If I stay on the surface of love
I can surf my way with out getting hurt again
With out having
To make more plans that will never happen
These aren’t the right words
I don’t know if they exist

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Day 781:

i have found no comfort in your silence
and everytime i try to pull myself into the distance
you seem to crawl in this space
leave me wondering what is behind the words you say
this is how i fix things that arent broken
i throw myself into the ocean
hoping youʻll realize i havent been up for a air in a while
and come looking for me

Friday, September 9, 2011

Day 780: not sure

they call this
the most hawaiian island
i do not understand
but i can feel hina blowing through the red dirt
find myself wanting to wash myself of the dust
realizing too late its significance
im a city girl
honolulu bred
and yet
something about this places calls to me like i belong
if only
i could find love in these craters
behind these winds
if only i could find you here
hidden in the cracks between the sky
maybe things would be different
if i tried
maybe i could be different if i tried
who knows
all i am sure of is this
when in rains
this island bleeds into the sea
the red ring around her
my only reminder
that i was ever living

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Off to moloka'i

I'm sure I'll get some great writing done but Wont be able to update til I get back.


Day 779: away

i keep writing poems before their time
pulling ribbons the size of loved one from my pours
whos the next poor soul to be trapped behind my doors
my skin aint thick enough for these kinds of games
and im getting pulled in ever direction
aint nothing about be strong enough to keep me staying anywhere long
fuck all this indecision
i just want to love like its good for me
like i dont always have to be runnning

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Day 778: im not ready for this poem either. fuck

"Times will come when you feel you are being pushed into the background. Never allow this to happen - stand always on your own foundation. But you will have to make that foundation. There will come time when to make this stand will be difficult, especially to you of Hawaiian birth; But conquer you can - if you will." - Princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop.

we were told to be industrious
so be hid steel plate under our skin
because we knew somedays the best offense is a good defense
and that growing up and leaving this island would make us vulnerable to attack
we were born scared
running from history
but she said be industrious
so we tied a part of her name to our body
tattooed her great uncle to our ankle and promised to never wear the color blue with yellow
the subtle things made us family
the way we refused silence
made us warriors

Monday, September 5, 2011

Day 777: To jenna (not even close to finished but im not ready for the rest)

From the first night we kissed
You became half of everything I would ever be
We pretended that didn’t weigh us heavy
Didn’t name us reckless
Didn’t break our backs
Instead we made plans
And anytime we spoke of days that weren’t passed we had to find a way to fit us in the margins

Today I realized
Im learning to love you differently
In a way that doesn’t tear and pull a part of me across the country
Learning that I can be me
You can be you
So much better when we aren’t so focused on fitting our waterlogged puzzle pieces together
When we aren’t so constricted by pronouns like us
We find a way to me more that anyone could have imagined