Thursday, March 31, 2011

Day 622:

save your salt for tomorrow

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Day 621: burn

when they fell
i found my father shaving away yesterday at the bathroom sink
my mother
as usual
it was all usual

i remembered new yorj beaing worlds away
further than te middle east
and words like world trade were as foreign as bin laden
we took anything that could fit on our tongues and spit them out like sour milk
regegitated information we werent old enough to digest
at anyone who would listen
we heard the names on CNN, ABC
we knew nothing of the swollen bodies
the fire that consumed
the hungry lain across the streets
that there were missiles to be found
in the coach pocket of a man who looked like he prayed to the wrong god
from our side of the bible
our belts buckled in the thought of him

when the towers fell
i had forgotten about the bodies
of americans
never knew they would burn the same as Afghanis
how prayer would not save anyone caught in the shadow
cross fire
how nothing good would come from this fire and fleet

when thw towels fell
we pretended to love america
we hung our flags
forgot that blood is the same crison in every language under every god
in the light of any sun
that fire does not discriminate on how it burns
the grafts
we would have taken lifetimes to heal
have spit themselves back up
screaming to be acknowledged

when the towers fell
i found myself grateful for the ocean
knowing she'd protect me
from the fire

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Day 620: moving up

i want to sit at the head of the table
kick my heels up
and laugh at the absurdity
of it all

Monday, March 28, 2011

Day 619:

leave me here tonight
youll find that i'll never leave
your gravity does that to me

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Day 618: thunder

to the thunder under your breath at midnight
the way the wind's swept you into itself
called you a natural disaster to marvel at
the sound of you sends shivers in every part of this body
wakes me from slumber
sleep doesn't come easy in this atmosphere
but im almost always willing to let it leave
lay under the sine or your skin
kiss away the parts of you that terrify me
leave me like a child in the dark

you are the woman the sunset turns crimson for
the tsunami that swept through this body
promising either to stay
of leave every part of its barren
like the ocean
so many promises you havent made
some lay on the tip of your tongue
i've seen them scatter
some nights
i shatter myself in those moments
send bits of me flying in each direction
some mornings
i lay up wondering what this means
most nights
i fall asleep
singing to the rhythm of your hearbeat
without a clue

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Day 617: water

i've been watching these borders exsplode
from here
it looks like the ocean is crawling into our sky
our green
its breaking our bodies into land mass
im sitting
wondering what it all means
just know
that theres something about water tht tries to take you
tries to bend you
but we shudder at the thought of its power
hows its never broken
lines carry too much of our selves
we watch her recede like a promise to return
and when she does
find ourselves praying at her alter
knees wet
with nothing but the promises we've broken

Friday, March 25, 2011

Day 616: evil

we have been killed in the weirdest of ways
strung about our grandparents homes
like game
like tomorrows feast
the beast of this city
but only beautiful behind bars
buried black bodies burned and tared
leave me for your tomorrow
sorrow slipped under my skin like a promise
you will find me stronger like sunrise
memory like birthright
everything about this body is dangerous
my voice
a demons kiss
forget the stories your mothers blood wrote on your skin
prophecy is just a lie we tell ourselves to let our bodies off the hook
let ourselves be less than our brilliant beautiful
there is no lie in the dead
only shame in our continued dying
our silence in the morning and evenins were we watched our children burn
like our fathers did
we have been killed in the weirdest of ways
first by the evil in those arounds us
by the evil in ourselves

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Day 615: strugglin

i have been writing for too long to be beautiful anymore
the warm words have slipped somewhere under my keyboard
made a hiding place
only brilliance shines through tears
and i am too cold to cry
to far away to know more
so the shivers
cover the page like promises
i recycle phrases that sound like broken chymes against a country home
how i loved the smell of that secret
but it swept away
and i slept it its wake
now i only wade here
in this water looking for the shallow side of now
when everything seems to dorp off in each direction
being surrounded by nothing never felt so overwelming

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Day 614: Zach

there is a boy
building himself into man
thousands of miles a way
writing to a lover about the dinamite of her kiss
if only he knew
being in love with the woman i will marry does not mean
that there are not parts of me that shatter every time he explodes
every time he is ending
shrugged upon the ocean
like a promise for distraction
we are waiting to watch
while the tide recedes

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Day 613: sbc

hold on
its gonna be a bumpy ride

Monday, March 21, 2011

Day 612: dad

sunday strung along my tongu like a prayer
my faters hands fold tight like pews
he sits curchside of the ocean
i sit ocean side of the church
we love different gods
but see our own in eachother
when we forget
how the distance hurts
we send natural disasters as reminders to call
say i love you
cry a little
cuz its healthy to
we hold ourselfs upright
like we are strong
just had a hard moment
had a deep second
we know its been like this constant
since i crossed the ocean
but we dont wanna talk about that
its too deep
and we've tired of treddin
its okay tho
the ocean
its not going anywhere
the church
stands even in the wake of a tsunami
ill be home soon
its not too late

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Day 611: timebomb

learn to love me like a timebomb
for the moments we share
spare the clock on the wall
the countdown until goodbies
and see you laters
when those words are promises for tomorrow that we arent powerful enough to make
but we say them anyways
as much as we have tried
we cannot fit our hearts into the 13 inch computer screen we've spent summer savings on
so memory will have to be enough to get you through the night
through next week
these are the promises we make
to the darkness
thats hangs in ever inch of this world at some point
its over our bed
taunting our bodies with the cold
forcing us skins to keep eachother warm so that next fall
when the shivers come crawling back again
we can remember to miss something we once had and held like we'd never be able to let go
so home
we still slipped away
cuz the darkness above my bed
is the same
split over the rest of the pacific coast
looking for an imprint of your body that feels like home
in the seconds before i explode
i warned you of the ticking clock
how the fleeting breaths would feel cold before the burst
it wont hurt
by then
you'll be across the country
and i will have done my best
to soften the sound
hoping not to wake you

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Day 610: storm

loving tsunami
i know how it hurts to be
no one understands

Friday, March 18, 2011

Day 609: Haiku

i did not leave you
i was just lost somewhere dark
and you didnt search

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Day 608: time

sometimes we forget
in the seconds we've counted from birth
that time
is just a reminder that other people exist
its the minutes we've counted between kisses
no one counts until isolation
so now
i hold seconds measured in miles to calculate the distance we've smashed between our bodies
these words
are the only things i've managed carry with me
they are the parts that will be remembered
when im gone
hoold my vowels like promises i forgot to wisper to you at bedtime
and kisses that never seemed to be enough
we can build a brick house out of our silence tomorrow
lets make an ocean of our syllables
ride on that wave til morning
til the sun comes
and it all melts away

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Day 607:

i've been wondering where the sun goes when your gone
how the world holds itself together
when the gravity of your breath is distant
and weak
how do we pretend to be so strong
when you are gone and
no where to be seen
past the horizon
folding yourself into memory
the things i've learned to carry with me
even when youare gone
even when you are too far away to remember your touch

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Day 606:

save me a seat next to you
on the train to the other side
this world is going down
and you are the only thing i can hold in my own two hands
worth taking with me

Monday, March 14, 2011

Day 605: water

you throw your whole self into any ocean that looks warm enough
when you shiver
you do not curse anyone
but yourself
for being silly enough to believe what you see
when you know
there are millions of miles of secrets right in front of you
none of which
every promised to be anything
but deep

Sunday, March 13, 2011

day 604: footsteps and promises

the last time we said goodbye
i promised to stop making plans further away than morning
to stop making promises to myself about happiness
those things
slip away too easy
like the hours between midnight and morning
go fast
before the taste of yesterday is even stale on your tongue
you find yourself awake against a new god
her dreams

i stoped everything
liked my day
in the tracks of all the places we had ever loves
and kept my heart closed
like a secret in the dark
learned to touch without love falling out of my pours

today i am backworked flipped into yesterdays
and last years
and all those places we made promises from that never kept
proclaiming this time is different
it sure feels that way
it feels scary
and tapped
and glued in all the right and wrong places
it feels dangerous
and yet
i've got more plans than i have tomorrow
more pomises then i have lips of pinkies to seal them with
you've turned me inside out
tsunami style
ripcage burnt into a million cranes
waiting for a wish to save the millennium with
these are the things i wake up to nowadays
and every goodbye
everytime you levae a room
a little part of my sanity goes with you
i tell myself i shouldn't make plans
but i fling bits of my lungs into your footsteps
promise to let you stand of my breath
promises to hold you there
until tomorrow
next year
whenever you say
thats enough beautiful
its time for bed

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Day 603: like the sky

you taught me to hold the sky
a hundred miles in each direction
to not let myself crumble beneath the broken laws of gravity
its just wax and promises the gods forgot to keep to themselves
reminded me that every itch of this spine is made of marble
of the heaviest bits of this earth
of the women whose secrets birthed the clay of our rip cages
so many things
you've taught me to hold onto like dreams
i through them like butterflies to the morning sky
to twilight
to darkness
and sunshine
the giving up
leaves me light on my feet
gives a special rhytm to this chest
to tis heart beat
there is nothing broken
for a moment
nothing crushed
nothing but wax and promises
cofee and kisses
mornings and evening
by your side
like a promise
to the sky
to stay

Friday, March 11, 2011

Day 602: warning

in Hawaii
our tragedies
flood in on warnings
to the morning tide
geographically isolated and not partial to shifting plates
our disasters
only come in the wake of another's nighmare
1960 chile shakes itself awake
and hawaii finds itself crumbling under her whitewash spit of south americas broken come crashing into our sands
we put salt in the wound
kick her while she is down
2010 chile crumbles
buildings shift like ruble
tumble down the streets of poverty
find themselves cracked and caved into corners
Hawaii curls into her sirens
waits for the tide to recede and heads for the mountains
or the surf
finds itselfs praying to the disaster to stike no futher
thanks god for the time to be warned
today is no different
the world economies falls like the lip of a tsunami
japan curls back like silly puddy
and hawaii
hawaii is waking to the morning tide

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Day 602:

when we were young
we leaned to show our backs to the mountains
were told stories of young boys and girls who were swept out to sea
for not watching properly
for not giving their chest to the kanalano
i used to imagine myself
walking along the reef and being stuck
my head
sliced by the rough rock
how the blood would pool and dilute with the salt
and i would be taken by the ocean
i used to imagine
how i would be angry
how i knew i would have been watching the rave proper
like i had been told
i knew i would not be caught on my heels
when the whitewash rolled in
there is something about the injustice of weakness that angers me
how the ocean
no matter how infinitely wise
can sweep over my body
leave me to be blood on the reef like candy for the tigersharks

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Day 601: fiction

the first thing they will tell you
is that the story isnt true
that will be the first, last and only lie of the evening
the honesty will have you writing your will by morning
find you an edge
that you can see thhrough
broken beaches found you resting on your morals
glass sand
lightninged into your spine
you are the miracle of time
but they will say
at the beginning of the evening
that they write for art
and no humans were harmed in the creation of this piece
for your enjoyment
make it easy
but the test dummies
are too dead to come back screaming
saying their lives were the ones tsunamied into hurricanes
found bent into the mold of your ribcage
made a beautiful love poem for you
scrawled nit in ink
was a afraid of the needle
washed it off the next day
didnt want anyone to see the truth
so we told it to them anyway in a way they couldn't believe
call me a fiction piece
i've swep the bodies under the carpet
they cant breathe
you'll see

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Day 600: father

when i think of the ocean
some nights
i think of it swallowing you alive
bending you over into the sunrise
i imagine
every bit of you gone
and silenced
and small
but the reflection of you
the one i see on the nights i am not looking into the ocean
is larger than life
larger than the sea
but everything can be lost
every person can be broken and gone
i know this
cuz i've hidden those feelings under my goosebumps
the ones that grow cold in te mornings when i miss home the most
i slice them open in the evenings that i have forgotten the christ in the tenor of your voice
and when i can
i will re-write the morse-code of your soul
until the morning forgets to sing to the moonlight
youll find me on the plant of the horizon
i will be the child screaming into infinity
imagining her father being swallowed by the sea
waiting for him to surface

Monday, March 7, 2011

DAy 599: melody

i've laid a million mornings for you on the cold side of my pillow
for every time i will forget to love you proper
forget to call you the sunrise
forget to wake to your breath
when i am lazy with my morning
and you are beautiful
but i forget to notice
there will be a poem there
waiting for the stutter of your voice to crack over the horizon
to bend itself into melody
something that will cling to your memory
for on the mornings that i slip away
and you need me the most

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Day 598: meannnnn

your walk of shame is a skimpy dress and heels in hand down campus drive
i've seen you here before
smile as wide as your lipstick stains
you've only managed to wipe the plastic edges of your pride clean
i can see your tremble from behind your stare
and the midnight behind your eyes
dont you know
women like you
should carry a larger purse
or at least wear pumps
until them
it will always be an uphill climb
to tridelt
from sigma chi

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Day 597: silence

there is nothing silent about a family of 7 living in a house made for 4
nothing perfect
nothing clean
but we've all decided how beautiful disaster can be
strikes hard like tornadoes
leaves its memories behind like soot
but every storm has its settle
has its calm
ours was the 2 hours of breakfast we shared in the cocoon of mornings
how we drank in a language we'd share like history
build ourselves a safe space in the silence
with only enough room for 2
and we filled that kitchen with enough memories
to crack the crystal edges of this ocean into lightning
things that are remembered
like genealogies
how they are stuck at the back of your throat
like peanut butter
i hold parts of those conversations there
the things that made me human
makes me feel hollow
like i've been skinned and left for dead

you are 2 thousand miles of crystal blue ocean
and still
and i am
i am the California coast
silent and forgotten
im so close to the water i can almost feel it finding its way back into my veins
the thought is cold
i am shivvering here
waiting for you to make me come home
close the distance
share some silence
in the morning
just like we used to

Friday, March 4, 2011

Day 596: part 2

the oceans i carry now
are the kind of thing you find strapped to the back of a stranger
call it heavy baggage
the straw that broke the camels back
but this luggage is beautiful
see how it moves
how the breaking of bone
the tearing of tissue
makes something grow in its place
makes something beautiful
becomes itself
onto itself
because of itself
we say
we think the beautiful parts
are worth all the heavy
the ocean part
that weighs us into our bodies
makes us our own universe
to be marveled at
the strangers will see
how that ocean
the ocean you think is some beautifully destructive body
is just your past bringing you over the mountain
built you back into glory

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Day 595: the ocean, i carry it now

you called today
said you had a moment
had to hear my voice
that you missed me
i've been feeling the same
been feeling skinless
since i left home
and there are so many parts of me that seem broken
this happens mostly in the mornings
mostly in the moments that the world is quiet
is still
when i feel most restless
most unsure in myself
those are the moments
when i miss you the most
but cannot help myself enough to hear your voice
i have these moments often
i didnt think you'd understand
until this afternoon
when you called
and found a way to put me back together
with just a hello
just a few minutes
just a little bit of what i am too afriad to admit that i've missed

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Day 594: distance

i have flown
so many seas away from you
expecting you to wait
patience i say
love me in the way my voice sounds like static from this place
keep a picture of my under your palms
remember the smell of me
patience beautiful
i have none of that
i want you whole
and solid
and in body
every part of me
scream out
waiting for your return
patience is nothing but a word
nothing but something i've thrown at you
in my absence
to keep you waiting

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Day 593:

you are a Victorian romance novel
a chronicle of stolen glances
the underhand brush of skin
things we've learn to cherish
like heads up pennies
the distance between embraces
we've found a way to inhabit that space
call it a home
like thats something worth holding on to