sometimes i call you kitten but really you are a grizzly bear who only happens to adore me. i wanted to leave a mark somewhere - to make a difference - so i could say thank you for freeing me of the hollows i came from. but there were too many people to thank and i got so busy, marveling really in everyone else's brilliance - that i forgot to become someone important. i hope you will forgive me also for loving everything that is a little crooked in you. there is something about the way that light bends when we are together and i am certain this is how you've saved me.
rain falls slightly sideways like a dog with a little inbreeding might walk toward shelter. i try to remember what it was like before melancholy - or whether always the slightly sideways rain falling was enough even for a child to fell the deep sorrow of such beauty.
I have an ache the size of something terribly important – but am exhausted by the business of so much minutiae that I’m not even sure for what I ache, nor where the longing itself is located – would I fill it with one more trifle.
There is a pen and so many drawers emptied of words. A stifled urgency. A haunt.
I have been looking for a cure for as long as I can remember. First, it was for food when I was hungry and for something to drink when I had thirst. Once I realized I could get my needs met, by asking to be fed, for a glass of water, a blanket – it was as if finding something out there to fix what was needed in here
became the blueprint for my next decided action. I quickly began to look towards friendship when I was lonely, an excuse when I was mad, a party when happy, a lover when amorous, a bed when fatigued. Soon it was coffee when tired, aspirin when sore, hat when frizzy, diet when fat, and absolutely anything when bored. So that every feeling should be resolved or counter balanced. An antigen found. A remedy procured. But what if. What if I did not so rashly fill my hunger, sate my thirst, friend my loneliness, blanket my chill? What if tired were allowed to be sleepy, and chubby, plump, and frizzy, fro? What if lonely were lone, and mad just that? Would all just simply BE?
happy. amorous. tired. inert. hungry. lonely. bored. alive.
May We Be.
there is none.
no thing is happening
that could mean more
than it already does.
so what feels like boredom
is just being