the science of uncovery

We work at being seen - forging exteriors that mirror an image we have of ourselves, our hopes and desires. We hide the rest. The rest is what I'm interested in. The rest is what makes Psychology so intriguing, and spirituality, and physics. It is also what renders our approach to modern science so utterly inadequate.

24-Hour Diner

I am the old waitress who suffered a stroke and limps and
slurs her speech, the dead bug in my glass and Matthew sitting
across from me. I am also the jukebox, whose songs I've resigned myself to -
as I'm resigned to keeping full that cabinet, my heart,
resigned to death, resigned to the off-beat thumping of fate.
Old fate, dragging her disconnected happiness behind her - working
hard, banging our hearts around, waiting for a tip.

entertainment

I love breaking whatever social contract binds us to this boring, scripted fucking dialogue.

sit back down

To Whom It May Concern:

Congratulations! 

You've just been judged.

welcome ;)

As all the pricks stand up to welcome you to your new single life.

painful admissions

I don't know what I'm doing...at all.

acceptance

When he finally chose to hold me; arms outstretched, fingers open - I slid between them.

disappointment

I'm not a starfish, I just wish I was.

bedtime stories

I can't bring myself to go to bed. Some nasty realization is waiting for me there. Sea monsters. Bed bugs. America. When my parents divorced my Dad made my sister and I a tape of himself reading bedtime stories. It's the saddest and most beautiful thing ever. I miss being read to - by anybody.

I'm so tired of taking care of myself. I can't endure my own sanity any longer, and sensitivity. I don't know how any half-sensitive person can withstand living in this society. I need to be touched. I need to be inspired. All you fucking zombies out there depress the hell out of me.

the glooms

Something bad happened last night. I don't want to talk about it so please don't ask. Instead, cast me as the star of your own imaginary movie. The starfish that is - for everyone's internal movie is an underwater one. Split me in two, heart and all. In the second scene I'll grow it back, for mine is the power of regeneration.

sleepless on the corner of piedmont and eighth

I can't sleep. If anyone wants to know what I look like in my pajamas, I'm clearly visible from the sidewalk. Just take about 40 paces down 8th street (towards monroe) and face south. Hi, hello.

You think I'm joking?

Come. We can mouth wordless poetry at each other and imagine the other is saying what we really want to hear.

Come. Serenade me. come. break the loneliness of this city and this street and this darkness. come and share. come. be intimate. come. be honest. be embarrassed. be naked. be ashamed. be joyful. be fucking crazy. be your self. come. come come.

Who else is going to tell you the truth tonight?

Fish cont.

The street markets in Chinatown are lined with

baskets of dried fish, boxes of jade ornaments,
meat turning in windows and sugar-sprinkled pastries.
But it's the fish and their many eyes that hold
my attention. I imagine the initial catch - nets taut,
the shimmer and sparkle of movement in the lines.
Will they be used in a soup? Fish broth or sauce?

Edited, I'm Undressed

Drawing in your net
You examine the day’s catch:
Salmon, Pompano or Moonfish.
De-scale and poach with lavender.
Taking careful bites,
Eat what you can of its sweet meat;
Leave the bones.

10 minutes

They held each other for 10 minutes at least. They held each other, even though their car was getting booted across the street.

When all is said and done, you can tell them how horrible I was - how I made you give me massages and never bought the toilet paper. If you want these mistakes you can have them. Mistakes we make because we're young and we still think all the stupid shit counts for something. Mistakes we make because we're afraid of being vulnerable to each other. Because someone told us love is possession and we believed them. Mistakes capitalism would be proud of because if we weren't preoccupied with having and didn't always want more no one would make any money off of us.

The light is getting thinner - as it does at sunset.
Colors don't actually exist, but we see them anyway.
I'd like to believe in will.
I'd like to believe in self-determination,
but I've got somebody else's gum stuck to my shoe
and all my mother's problems.

hearts in garlic

Some say blood,
some rust, but none
are as red as me.

I discovered recently I have a fear of the ocean - especially at night. Its abysmal, incalculable depth. The ocean feels hungry to me even on calm days. Some absurd fish I am. Like the tides want to uncover me, consume me and leave the bones. I think I equate death with the ocean. Not death the way I like to think of it/experience it, but soul-less death. Dispersed into thousands of disconnected particles instead of remaining a whole, sentient being.

Or maybe it's the vastness of the ocean that bothers me. My ignorance seeing itself in the reflection of the expansive. I had a dream once I was submerged in it. Below me was darkness and above me light. I struggled upward until I broke the surface and it was at that moment when I woke. I felt calm after that dream, as if in it I had been protected. I wish I could feel that way again.

love as a

Love exists. Love is waiting only for you to open. Love is urgent as it watches you grow older. Love asks only to be received. Love is transformative. Love opens flowers in the darkness of morning. Love is fire. Love speaks not and thinks not. Love knows. Love I beg not to leave me alone. Love you don't have to deserve but should want to. Love gives everything and takes everything. Love ignites love. Love you have to be blind to see and blind not to see. Love you pray at night to wake up with. Love never grows because it simply is and always was. Love, inseparable from creation. Love as a fetus, a seed. Delicate love. Secret love. Love from behind a veil.