1. (01/20/2014) map of the solar system you saw in your third grade class, it’s a lie you aren’t the earth you aren’t wedged between venus and mars, two inches apart on either side. it’s not so small a space liminal space making dust that never is was a core but wanting to be a gap our flashlights each must have just grazed.
2. (01/21/2014) in a Nook on the Other side of my campus’ Body—
Dickenson in mind sees
—Leaves, roll away from Deposits, over populated islands—
caught in Concrete —still roll
so i spit on my hands and try to wash tree sap from the park trees fuck i thought it would be easier, persistent shit. i light my cigarette my first was years ago. a kid looks five years old falls from the climbing wall his first i hope still a child who will climb climb climb
3. (01/22/2014) to be a planet in orbit too far away from your brothers. a distance to cross, a boundary the silence and life possibly a perimeter. i think pluto is just an icy rock, i know they were once closer to me than jupiter or saturn. i feel pluto keep trying.
4. (01/22/2014) Where is my Barney Bday Cake the bridge you cross the rope tied to the post
is cut the wooden planks break down in sequence you lose footsteps their phantoms
there after every lift of your foot trying for heaven and gravity
oppresses hope the bridge swinging down you running your ankles might grow wings
experience the fall into in between your choice will not keep you safe
just drown you will drown drown like the time you were two you came back
from floating in between trust the bridge dive from it
walk the bridge pretend it is a cloud
5. (01/23/2014) smoke a few cigarettes and realize you have two hours you want to murder before madness hour is reigned in. take the stairs i know you haven’t exercised in a year, lazy fuck but just get high to kill. dodge security cameras, don’t be seen. they wear masks a lot, i’m sure you don’t. this is alone and free and you are finally something i can scale.
6. (01/24/2013) They are the kind that make you forget posthumous day screaming so loud and long my brain becomes oxygen deprived and my lungs burst or shrivel or whatever the fuck happens, i wish i died in that moment but not really, i’m scared of that kind of conviction. i just wish i became a pharmacist instead of an english major. i could just overdose on benzodiazepines.
7. (01/25/2014) the night sky, a lake the moon is— my face looks down, catches every ripple, surrendered sounds
8. (01/26/2014) You have to find when you are born inside i wrote every word i could think in with a black sharpie pen, in high school my body was a crossword puzzle from the books my ma sinks herself into, with bleeding highlighters she is finding herself frustrated with a word she can’t pinpoint. she calls my name in a voice, like i am ma and she is son wondering about essence sprouting out from foreheads and drapes obscuring it. puzzle intersects them and all she asks is the pronunciation, she repeats until it belongs to her mouth, her essence sounds like her asking for me to give her its meaning. i begin the thing ma has to rooh inside your troung ma when ma ban kaet. she doesn’t understand i can’t make any sense.
9. (01/27/2014) days with graffiti arms, jimbo told me ink drains into porous skin, absorbed with the idea, blood poisoned. i never told anyone i was scared of my brain dying out. fifteen bowls of marijuana smoked every day, pretending to inhale and exhale my tight stomach. i thought i was forgetting myself entirely, i never told anyone about losing and being lost. the back of my throat where i rested pills i thought would float me deeper into myself.
10. (01/28/2014) i got a txt msg i left my torch can i borrow yours? encased in a gray bubble on my lit phone screen we meet down on the stone bench behind the science bldg sit down for a ritual smoke. we walk to a cave off to the side of the bench and i light my torch. it is a narrow opening but i am not sure how cavernous really bc we walked only in a straight line. my torch was only lit enough to see down a jawline leading to a neck maybe inches in front of your face as well. we walked and walked straight ahead until i saw a small chest, a walnut of a box. chains twined vining around it but it shed a tear, a fracture.
11. (01/29/2014) two marbles seen through a slit and the embers you take a step towards, they are lit eyes of a ruffled owl cooing, trying to whisper the owl sees the dark to slice apart illusions to find the real magic in his hour, the quiet, listens to find the death of something.
12. (01/30/2014) i remember falling asleep to the sound of Aberdeen 1987 with brothers i found. no, brothers who found eyes that saw nothing but ground. what memories come up for you? little mice scuttling to fill holes.
13. (01/31/2014) why are we still talking about hummingbird wings flapping fifty times a second? i already know she likes to fly backwards from flowers with no more nectar. the owl eyes still in the night, freeze frame the scenes to catch any difference, shifts from each screenshot. death is a clue of anything alive, besides me i already know, echoes inside a beak.
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