happy

and we merge into the flow

of the life we always leave

[never lead]

the one we look towards

[never seem to meet.]

but ah, here it is

flash of the lids

recognizing the heavy flatness

of plateauing.

breathe deeply

decide the next step

of foot into concrete.

ambiguous intentions

be honest. you can't know how they feel.

piff piff flew

cross-legged on the kitchen tile.

dust and dirt left under the cabinets.

i wonder when she last cleaned. maybe i should do that later.

look at my legs.

bug bites, chipped polish, i should put on lotion.

sigh- feel the width of your body

rest head on neck bent

over legs

over the tiles

what are you doing?

i don't know

i don't know.

no pressure and no noise

no chaos to push me forward

it's got to come from in here

stomach

please don't hand me a quarter and a coke.

if i had a tent or a typewriter to throw in the river, i would.

i really promise that i would.

choose to say goodbye

and don't acknowledge my poor choices;

they're shameful.

augusts in maine

given direct

and secretive

attention

feeds into the same old drag.

i see something brighter.

presque isle day 2

journal #(somewhere around 70)-august 9, 2011

today i learned that every day is a chance to make something better. i think in terms of personal connection. we should see one another as a safe haven, as a root, as a kite string. being out here among the resilient grass blades, and strong mountains are hands that are calloused with the hardship of deep snow, shriveled crops, and the stigma of illiteracy. feeling tall and fat with the richness of education, we come. pointing fingers and snickering remarks, we are ushered into the community to use the power of shared experience to feel that universal "we." just now, walking amongst flags of wheat, we tried to capture this freedom that's here. "there's nothing to see," a friend says. "there's nothing here." heart shrinks but maintains hope. "you'll see, you'll see." this is bigger than ourselves, bigger than our capable hands.

freshness, purity, something inherent.

almost too strong to look head on

the sun blankets us

in the clarity that our

comfort

could never provide.

maybe you cannot see

because you are unwilling to look.

i want to stay here forever. bare-legged and supple, take it all and make me tough.

break our shells so that something stronger

can armor us.

not about potter

acentos.

if if if

sylvia plath and i stammer over the masculine accents that pull our lives.

stop making ultimatums and let life roll out; we’ll always have ifs to ponder in the lingering purple of dying days.

pop pop

i had a stomachache.

even at twenty, it still felt like the end of the world.

daddy came outside to where i was laying

on a flat sheet

and asked if i could drive him to work; he had a flat tire.

i haven't thought of signs in a while

now i see that this was one.

i drove him and started thinking of you.

on the way back home, i passed your block

and turned down maple;

heart deciding before my mind.

i went to the park that you used to take us to as kids.

i sat on a swing

and pumped my legs.

i looked at the stone turtle that was always cool to the touch.

i ambled down the angled hill

and looked at the brooke.

everything was melodiously moving forward.

i stooped to the water

and cupped my hand.

i whispered, "i miss you."

i don't think you responded

but i could feel that you heard.

i walked across the open field, past the picnic benches that always seem empty.

i stepped across the tiny pebble island

that i once found a beach chair on

and talked to god.

i opened my hand and said, "let me know that he is happy."

i don't think he responded

but i could feel that he heard.

i never missed you

because i didn't think i could.