February 2012
13 posts
5 tags
february 22nd, 2012 - "11:58pm."
i remember couch cushions on bare feet, sad glow from the television casting shadows over odds & ends, (all the pieces i refused to pick up without your help) in blue, and grey, in flickering kisses; welcomed night sounds from the crack in the window, to dampen and die with what’s left of the weekend, and sleep curled up with the dog in the middle of the living room ...
6 tags
febraury 15th, 2012 - "patience, bobby."
when you showed me the boulder in the woods, (where you stacked pebbles in parallel lines: a makeshift calendar to make the days for the week we spent at summer camp, when we were just a little too young to be away from home for that long.) i didn’t know it was a secret; some sacred shrine you hid behind a branch so big you needed to hold it back so it wouldn’t snap me in...
5 tags
february 12th, 2012 - "untitled."
i caught a taste of something sweet on the wind, blackberries, or boysenberries, walking home from your apartment; i never could tell the difference.
5 tags
february 11th, 2012 - "organics."
every winter, without fail, the park bench in town has me pushing snow aside for a seat, (despite how wet my butt will get) caught off guard by the way snowflakes always seem to crowd the streetlamps, like gnats in the summertime, when we’d sit in those bright red swings until the whole town fell asleep; only the occasional “clack-clack” from cars crossing the threshold on the...
5 tags
february 10th, 2012 - "tanya green."
i would have kissed you hard, the first time, when i got the chance: the park bench behind the elementary school, on soft lips, wet with the last few drops of dew stained on the afternoon grass - thought of your smile, saw your face from across the room, sitting in the back row, when you had an itch, but couldn’t reach it underneath your cast, and the victory when you realized you could...
5 tags
february 7th, 2012 - "driving with tom."
when we’re driving over hills of pavement, piled up, for years and years, broken stones and smashed concrete swept under the black-top: we’re not running through the backyard, chased by our children or your dogs, there’s no smell of rain, or fresh cut grass… just yesterday’s lunch, and the sound of your engine struggling up hills.
6 tags
january 6th, 2012 - "traps."
the mouse trap i set, snapped - an echo from down the hall, and kept me from sleep.
7 tags
january 5th, 2012 - "reprisal. (for alex, who will...
when i heard your story of storm king, and how dan lost his phone running through endless fields, you called them giants: the sculptures of mangled steel and piled rock; the grass that grew over everything around you, reaching like it wouldn’t stop until it touched the sky; the muscles in your legs and knees, and the bounds they helped you leap… you said you’d be going back...
5 tags
february 4th, 2012 - "seahawks."
i earned a second place ribbon, once, it was red, and it matched the few yellow ones i had for third place in relays, (400m mixed, if i recall…) where i was third, in the order: breast stroke, and my teammates mostly pulled my weight. there were three, or four of them, tops, and they stood out like sore thumbs in a pile of bright purple, rainbow-y participation ribbons, of which there must...
5 tags
february 3rd, 2012 - "loctite."
when my glasses broke, and i needed to super glue them in class, my students thought i was crying. (when really, i just hadn’t waited long enough for the glue to dry, and the fumes were hurting my eyes.) bryan thought i hurt my finger. kaylynn asked if someone died.
5 tags
february 2nd, 2012 - "your irish kitchen."
i remember the wooden spoon with the broken handle, (…and how often you burned your hand: stirring soup because it was too short, but said you couldn’t ever get rid of it because it belonged to someone special, even if you couldn’t tell me who it was…) and all the coins we saved (…found in between couch cushions: searching for the remote and our lost cell...
5 tags
february 1st, 2012 - "the muddy cup."
when you left, i sunk deeper in the couch, not caring i was alone and sitting where four or five people could have been enjoying their tea, because my feet on the coffee table was the only thing keeping me from following you home, even thought i knew, i sort of owed it to myself to stay.
5 tags
january 31st, 2012 - "greys."
how i know i’m getting older:
today, i walked from my bedroom to the bathroom with only socks on; i stubbed my toe and cursed the name of my long-dead dog, whom i never cared very much for in the first place; the prospects on investing in leather armchairs are looking better with each and every passing day, and the ottomans… oh, the ottomans!
January 2012
30 posts
4 tags
january 30th, 2012 - "portrait."
“isn’t it something…” shoulders arched, head tilted back and staring at the wall “…how i can still see her picture hanging here, how i can still feel her looking at me even though she’s gone?”
5 tags
january 29th, 2012 - "post."
it’s been five years, and all i have to show for it is a fading memory of you sitting against the wall, staring at me, hiding, underneath my bed.
5 tags
january 28th, 2012 - "bingham park playground."
in the dreams i have where i can jump over buildings and talk to birds, no one ever calls it flying. but, if we could jump, just that little extra bit and break through some membrane and take off into the sky, and promise, to write letters from the clouds so we can tell everyone what they taste like, if we could do that…
5 tags
january 27th, 2012 - "untitled."
of all the nights
to be stuck up
late,
i chose this one,
and I’ll have to live with it.
5 tags
january 26th, 2012 - "660am."
i couldn’t decide whether i’d rather listen to rain or sports radio when i was sitting in the car and waiting for the bus to bring you home, but the wind picked up, and the first clap of thunder made my decision for me.
5 tags
january 25th, 2012 - "afghan."
it was difficult to see that afghan for the first time hanging in a window after only existing in photographs, to keep the shade in or, drenched in memories to burn up in the sun; to evaporate what’s left of her in wrinkles, a stain, just out of reach for cat claws, and the downstairs neighbors.
5 tags
january 24th, 2012 - "tea."
what are you
hinting at,
tired eyes?
where are you
looking?
drink some
more;
i’ll be
right back.
5 tags
january 23rd, 2012 - "storm door."
the storm door
to the back porch
never closed right
after you ran through it
“because the neighborhood dog
chased you home
from the bus stop.”
it never slammed
the same way:
that thunderous clang
from over-greased hinges
and the broken hydraulic piece,
still never managing
to catch the latch
on the first hard pull.
…i never did try
bending it back into place.
6 tags
january 22nd, 2012 - "untitled."
my father, on life:
“everything means something.
unless it doesn’t.”
5 tags
january 21st, 2012 - "Olim."
your cat watched me
getting dressed,
(the morning after you left in a hurry;
trusted me to see myself out,
and to find my way home…)
from behind her milk dish,
when she wasn’t licking at it,
(i guess cats can’t drink
with their eyes opened.)
with a look on her face
like she didn’t trust you
leaving me here;
a look i could have sworn
i saw once on a dog.
5 tags
january 20th, 2012 - "in the shower."
i still say
our little prayer,
the one we kept
on the playground
for snow days
and indoor recess;
a salute,
to all the boats
we sunk
in the bathtub.
6 tags
january 19th, 2012 - "sunday mornings."
breathe; trepidation
for the morning light behind
the bedroom curtains.
5 tags
january 18th, 2012 - "garbage."
i left what i thought was a bag of old clothes by the side of the road because the goodwill donation bin was full, and other people had done the same: too lazy, like me, to drive ten minutes down the road to the fire station, where i knew there was another one.
5 tags
january 17th, 2012 - "what."
i remember the wind whistling through you’re bedroom, must’ve come in through the space between your air conditioner and the wall, and how all i wanted to do was close my eyes and listen to your brand new stereo, sprawled out on the floor with my toes tucked under the edge of your bright red oriental rug, and the music that made me want to take my clothes off. i remember all our talk...
5 tags
january 16th, 2012 - "breathless."
leave it to a breathless night to take mine, what good is this moment repeated? could i call to the wind, or something else, i’m not sure i would, because, if it were me, i wouldn’t give it back.
6 tags
january 15th, 2012 - "for brian higgins, who will...
i need to apologize for being young and easily impressionable, as it was all too unlike me to think a wire fence could hide my identity from someone who learned to recognize me by the sound of my breathing.
5 tags
january 14th, 2012 - "voices."
how many others
have your voice?
did you tell them
what to say?
to slur your double l’s,
a roll your r’s
from time to time,
the way your words
bleed together
when you’re tired.
did you give them
all your secrets?
well, i’m sure
you taught them well.
5 tags
january 13th, 2012 - "footprints."
when we were little,
we used to write secrets
on the bottoms of our shoes,
maybe,
because we knew,
they’d never be there
when we got home,
and it feels good to know
you leave behind
a little more than just footprints.
5 tags
january 12th, 2012 - "louisiana."
i guess,
i always found it kind of funny
how the streetlamps still found a way
in through the tiny window
to your basement bedroom;
we left scrabble on the floor
to finish in the morning,
and made promises
to remember it was there
if we got up
in the middle of the night.
you ruined all my favorite songs,
because now,
it’s just the music we made love to.
5 tags
january 11th, 2012 - "a fucking crow."
this morning, a fucking crow, in the tree outside my bedroom window, woke me up, before my alarm. this morning. a fucking crow.
5 tags
january 10th, 2012 - "good mornings."
when i finally stumbled out of bed,
and we met in the kitchen,
after having not said a word
since the night before,
i waited for you to speak first,
with a “good morning,”
or “sleep well?”
that i couldn’t hear over the sound
of the coffee pot,
and my sleep-heavy breath,
but answered, the way i always do:
with a voice that cracks and sputters,
a little...
5 tags
january 9th, 2012 - "when i'm stressed."
i walk to the park to spin myself on the merry-go-round, because i figure, that’s the best place to clear my head or to make myself throw-up; whichever i decide to be the more appropriate of the two while on the way there, or just, whichever comes first.
5 tags
january 8th, 2012 - "the staircase."
the night i first heard they were putting an addition on the high school i lied to my friends, and said i couldn’t go to the bar because something came up back home, and i got in the car to check on the initials i carved in the concrete on the wall by the staircase outside by the back doors, where you first felt safe enough to let me put my hands underneath your shirt, because we all need...
4 tags
january 7th, 2012 - "on my father (and his...
for years, i took muffled snoring (over the hum of the radiator, and through two thick walls) for my father talking to aliens in his sleep, and to this day, i’m still surprised that more little boys aren’t terrified of their fathers.
4 tags
january 6th, 2012 - "daisychain."
i heard you call ‘bullshit’ on whoever said it’s good luck to rain on your wedding day: derailed the conversation, for an excuse to spew anecdotes at my expense… do you remember? all the dreams and kisses we left to ferment in a shoebox on the top shelf, had to stand on each other’s shoulders, and vowed we woudln’t open it again until we were tall enough to...
4 tags
january 5th, 2012 - "untitled."
how can you tell which leaves are poison ivy? …i’ll run home and grab my scissors!
6 tags
january 4th, 2012 - "hawley, pennsylvania. for...
i heard your heart swelling, between eighteen-wheelers on 84, pennsylvania bound, at 2am, with the windows whistling, and a hum from the radio, asking “how much longer?” and “are we driving in circles?” when the highway ended, and we got lost in our wishes for an old red ryder and a log cabin the woods, fast approaching the ghosts of old friends, and other people’s...
4 tags
january 3rd, 2012 - "kaitlin."
will you run away with me? can we make the grown-ups jealous, for the summers we’d scurry through backyards and roll down the hill, too dizzy to tell who won until we tallied the grass stains; squashing fireflies in our tiny fists, hoping they’d get stuck on glow, so we could hold their little asses to the sky like fleeting beacons, praying more would come before bedtime, because we...
4 tags
january 2nd, 2012 - "on suburban mothers."
i remember you, watching from the picture window, on your tip-toes trying to see over the hedges, because you were worried, but couldn’t keep us from playing in the streets; amazed we weren’t more afraid of getting hit by cars, because there aren’t sidewalks in the country.
4 tags
january 1st, 2012 - "starting over."
i saw you running to the car, a stranger in a pea coat with no reason to say hello, and i wished i noticed you a moment before it was too late; short of breath, and a mouth full of new year’s air, i would have loved to blow at you. (i worried it was too cold or, someone planted fungus in my lungs while i was napping before midnight.) when i realized it was you, it was too late, and we were...
December 2011
7 posts
4 tags
december 22nd, 2011 - "blankets."
december came, and i lost the will to carry on without you here. the first snowfall had me trapped inside for three nights and two days. in true december fashion, i was wishing you’d come back home with late night tv, and nostalgia for spring.
4 tags
december 15th, 2011 - "in a parking lot on bailey...
this is where we ran to?
chasing spirits on
the cold side of the pillow;
did they call to you?
tease you with promises
of peace and quiet,
the way you heard
my heart beat
in a tent on schunemunk,
and
dance about the valley
before
diving in the hudson river,
when you swore
the diamonds
falling from the sky
weren’t just
cars driving down
the mountain?
well,
...
4 tags
december 14th, 2011 - " untitled."
i heard you yell
from down the hall
when you dropped
the phone
behind the couch;
cursing it
for being cordless,
and not yourself
for being clumsy.
4 tags
december 12th, 2011 - "cobb."
i should have known; you always knew me too well, and hid my sunglasses in the last place i’d look. (the refrigerator, bottom drawer to the left, with the vegetables, between the iceberg lettuce and a bag of baby carrots; pre-sliced; organic.) they were too cold for my nose, so i stopped, hid them in my armpit (also, hoping to warm them) and held my breath, a little worried, (honestly) that...
4 tags
december 8th, 2011 - "allegory of an ex-tea...
if there’s a fire in my belly, i must have swallowed it in my sleep and i hope my morning coffee puts it out.
4 tags
december 7th, 2011 - "BDE 8823, on pennsylvania...
do you remember when we knocked the box of photographs off the nightstand in our sleep, and spent the morning cross-legged on the bedroom floor putting everything in it’s right place: all the clippings we saved because we found all our best poems in the sunday newspaper; pictures of your father sleeping on the floor because his back hurt and he swore it settled his spine; the postcards we...
4 tags
december 6th, 2011 - "RS OPH, R.A. 17h 50m 13.202s...
i thought about it: the night we sent our voices over in barrels to hear them sing, to watch them sink so we’d have an excuse to dive for more than hand-fulls of sand; count pebbles, collect quartz, and complain about the ones that stick beneath our fingernails, just to let them go. i thought about the water on your face, and how it always seemed to stay a little longer than it should have;...