laughing with a mouth of blood.

i wonder

could i love the stars

if they fell from the sky

or the moon

if it pulled the waves to my feet?

could i love

the ground i walk upon

as much as i have loved

those who have treated me

with a similar indifferent kindness ?

well it seems i have

already given away

all the love they have given me

and now i only have broken pieces to rearrange.

those already on the outside of society tell me, “love is love”

as even they forbid the love

of the moon and the stars and the earth.

love is love,

they say,

but is love still love

when you’re under construction?

this is something new. i have not written in a while, but i am back. i keep asking myself, in my life, am i transcending it all, or am i just being stupid ? here is another version of the same piece.

there once was a boy named she

who loved the sun

and glowed with his warmth;

who waited patiently

as the moon brought the waves

to her feet;

as the ground pressed up

with the same indifferent kindness

to give love

to the boy named she,

and she loved them

with the fervor with which

she loved all creation

which treated her

no different than any other atom,

but instead judged her

for spreading her love-seed

over the land

like a careless, foolish johnny appleseed;

spreading it thick on the toast

of those who only consume

prosecco and petit fours.

love is love,

you say,

but is love still love

when you’re fighting a war ?

i just wanna be a sheep

so much for dancing in time,
you pulling me in,
whipping your arms around,
the You you can sense
pushed against the Me i hope
you think i am
sloppy
and gripping me closer
dragging us around in a waltz
that ignores the music;
i don’t know what to think…
Just take the lead
I’m trying to follow your feet
Which seem to find no certain pattern
As of yet.

i don’t blame you.

today, looking as strangers do at each other in passing–a glance at a person you don’t know and probably won’t remember, a small temporary photograph, a made-up life-story forgotten by the time you reach the end of the block–a woman walking about an arm’s length from me, her dark blonde hair in her face, her thin frame bundled in a stylish beige pea-coat and a pink scarf, decided that it was too much for her, and as i raised my head to capture an image of her, as a polaroid camera that would, as soon as it has been developed, let the picture fly out of the back of my head and blow away in the opposite direction, she put up her palm in my direction, as if she was directing her body language at me, as if she were saying stop, stop right here, let’s not; let’s not pursue this, let’s not see each other in the supermarket, buying cheap packs of gum and a pint of ice cream we don’t need, let’s not start a conversation about how silly it is that the candy is next to the fitness magazines, let’s not find out that we’re walking in the same direction because we both live on fourteenth street, let’s not stop for coffee on the way home, let’s not discover that we both drink soy milk except in lattes because that’s just gross, let’s not put each other’s numbers in our phones and think, “would it be awkward to call in a few days? would she remember?”, let’s not think of the way we don’t look at each other when we talk, which is kind of cute, let’s not see each other getting off the subway the next friday, let’s not follow each other home, let’s not wake up in bed the next morning, coming into life, sleepily realizing on the soft light reflecting off the white sheets how ecstatic we are, let’s not go to brunch, let’s not go out the next day, let’s not wear red dresses and red lipstick and buy red roses and let’s not rip them off each other when we get home, let’s not think about each other when we’re together, let’s not smile for no reason, let’s not whisper and feel sweet breath on our ears, let’s not feel each other’s bones through our skin accidentally, let’s not sleep too close, let’s not leech each other’s warmth, let’s not shyly be afraid to look at or touch each other, then gently reach out, stroke the unwanted hair, the stubble, the odd birthmark, the fading tattoo, let’s not think this is forever, let’s not try to be forever, let’s not find out it’s not meant to be forever, let’s not have our first fight and then make love after, let’s not have our second fight and retreat in hurt to cookies and cat power, let’s not have our seventeenth fight and write bad letters to each other, let’s not start thinking that the girl who works at the cafe downstairs is kind of cute, let’s not ache in hurt for a week, two weeks, lets not forget each other’s numbers, let’s not forget the way we smell, the way we walk, the way that when we hold hands we bump into each other accidentally, let’s not forget how simple, how grand, let’s not start going to a different grocery store to buy a lesser brand of ice cream, let’s not start walking home a new way, let’s not remember the way we met, courted each other, so simple, so fast, so surreal, let’s not have each other’s names echo from the walls of our deep histories, as we fall down and down, let’s not. Just, let’s not.