I am not the things I obsess over:
Red face jaded gut
pushing scary narrative
which, in fact, surrounds us plenty,
never enough to the point of screech-
and I’m screeching still,
a torpor of horror
which sounds funnier than it is.
It’s hearing yourself repeated
but ever so twisted, bit by bit
without assault
until the result is the horrorgreen version
and you can’t tell the difference.
They’ll say:
“You look tired.”
They’re not wrong.
I loved when we spoke of our
mutual love of movie previews,
starwars and superman shit,
films and comics, you read,
and shared and me,
a writer, and you, a hungry reader,
I fell for you mad.
I fell when you lent me your first
editions of superman and neil gaiman.
I fell when you kissed me so hard
one november night, second date and we
had too many sharp upon sharp holiday cocktails,
thanksgiving's eve, and so,
the streets were our own, yet, in our shared,
brooklyn way, silent and equally alive,
we struck up some bright christmas
lights and nature blessed our romance with a speckle of
first snow, and no pedestrians in sight,
bk streets our very own snow globe, and your hand in my hair,
all gentle, yet grasping, and
your arm pulling my pelvis into yours, the
the forces that force us to attempt a
flight of heart alongside an other,
again and again, after too many falls,
that night, the force, awakened.
Inside my body is a body
where I keep my body.
Inside the room I hold my body
– prone, dying fish, wanderer
exhausted –
with the hands of my other
body & listen for the sound
of the living breathing
through the walls. Outside
the window. Smoking on the fire
escape. Once I escaped
the first hole I dug for myself
I watched the sun descend
into the hole that is the other side
of the world & spent
my whole life chasing it
by moving deeper into my body.
When I entered the room
I walked through the door
of your mouth with my mouth.
We breathed together & our breath
gave life to flowers. I once
read a story of a man
who grew a fir tree
in his lung. Our bodies
are worlds & these worlds
war as worlds do. They live
& die. They toil against their walls.
So much in us struggles
with so much in us. If there is truth
at all, it must be this. You hung
frames on empty walls
in an empty room. The frames,
filled with pictures of you
in other rooms. When finished,
you held your knees to your chest
& waited for them to fall.
I was just outside the door.
The importance, I wanted to say,
is that there is anything
worth breaking. I opened
the door & brought the outside
with me & it felt like all
we don’t know feels –
silent, trembling, a thin
vibration rippling the dark water
of the sky. I found you
when the room balanced before
the idea of becoming the ruin
of a room. We live here, now,
in this act of balancing. Here,
where all things
extend toward all things
but never touch. Isn’t it
beautiful? All night
we hold each other
without knowing
we hold each other.
Endless pavement descends into the depths of the smoky sun.
One unforgiving beam cuts through haze,
pulling at the already cracked, artificial surface.
A tree-
hollow and uprooted-
curls towards the earth from which it once stood.
She listens to hear that boom-
those feet-
sliding through the blades.
Beneath the mist from that busted flood light,
Baby feasts
on solitude and peace.
Trails of ash stream from the stoves
of forgotten moments
as the hearth bakes the bricks of time.
A fire rages in the night.
The Willow declares,
“I am here.“
It was lunch hour and as always the schoolyard was dividing itself into two factions; oh sure, there was a slight flavour of boys vs girls (“They don't wear makeup or come from Earth”, I’d heard one of the girls whisper to a friend once; I knew what she was talking about). But that was not the true division the tore each of us young, runny nosed, bright eyed kids apart. Honestly the divide changed from week to week, but this week it was Kara Varnor, explorer of the great beyond.
Kara Varnor was a cartoon, it was a 4d animation, and if you don’t know what that is, so sorry but I really don’t have time to explain. There was us, the ones who thought that Kaylee was the best sidekick on the show and… them, the kids who thought that Gizelle was the better.
“It’s a dark day my friend,” Nelson said. We were standing at the top f the tall red slide that looked a little like an elephant and a lot like something that you can only imagine made us kids giggle and blush. He was our leader, and was about as stoic as a 7 year old comes. He had an empty toilet paper roll to his eyes and was scanning the battlefield complete with jungle gym and swings. His nose was running.”We’ve lose the southmost sandbox. Bebe was in there, god bless her soul.”
“She knew the risks.” I said.
“But still.” He lowered the roll. “No pudding cup should outlast its owner.”
There was a tug on my sleeve and I turned. I didn’t mean to recoil, it was an honest mistake and it’s something I think about to this day, but the androids dark steely eyes were always disarming. They weren’t bad they were just... different, and kids have a way of recoiling from the different
“I’d like to help,” he said.
I opened my mouth to speak, to say (by reaction, I didn't truly believe this) that we had no place for him. Nelson stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder, “And we could use your help,” he said
The android smiled.
He has a name, you know. I called him the android back then, but his name was Virginia Woolf. His parents had an odd algorithm for naming. For the same reason I didn't know his name, I protested. Nelson smiled and shook his head.
“When it comes to the schoolyard,” Nelson said, “We need all the help we can get. We’ll call you bin. That’s your code name” Bin nodded, and smiled shyly.
The attack was sudden. A spitball the likes of which I’ve never seen slapped into the side of the slide with a sickening “Thwack’. We dived behind the elephant ear/testicular outcropping that was at the top of the slide. We all peaked around. Susie was the sentry, and we watched as in slow motion a wet wad of destiny slapped into the side of her face.
“God, no. Susie.” Nelson whispered. He wiped away a tear and took a sip from his juice box. It was grape.
“Susie was the sentry, and we watched as in slow motion a wet wad of destiny slapped into the side of her face.”
The android took his hand off (this was normal for us, mind you.” And a kite came out. I watched stunned as it slowly reeled up towards the sky, like a string of handkerchiefs coming from a clown's sleeve. It soared upwards and I was so lost in the beauty I neglected the intent.
“7 near the swings. 1 is flanking us from behind.” Bin said.
“How did you-”
“Camera,” he said, smiling. “Attached to the kite. I can see the whole schoolyard.”
I was surprised. In that moment I’d forgotten he was an android. Maybe because kids have short attention spans, but maybe it was just because I was able to see him in the same light you get to see any kid cowering form a spit ball.
Nelson nodded, and crushed his juice box. “Let’s roll,” he said.
Then the bell rang, and the war was postponed. The friendship, continued however.