another tickmark on your prison wall.

we were swallowing dandelions with hopes of growing roots.

you were just a skeleton
i stretched the skin over your body
but the bones & tendons pushed through such a thin layer
& i spent the rest of the night sewing you back together

i watched as the fireflies celebrated the rain
trying to decode the signals & cause them to spell your name
(not recognising the letters forming my own)

i was a little girl in a summer dress walking along the pier toward some sort of end, be it water or air. & someone was holding my hand & pointing out the dove that circled above us.

but i don't collect people.

i will not be anchored by fear.

i dreamed i made myself a halo out of cardboard
i wrote you a letter on an old typewriter
i asked you not to save me this time

i can never get the order down.
12345
12345

dead or alive.

it all centers around communication.

i have been rescued far too many times to allow worry to be draped around my neck any longer. it would weigh me down, it would push my eyes to the floor. i pull it away & the clouds are moving in fast foward.

you were once a secret but now you're just a name.

is it better to build a world or to enter one ?

the hospital is for the sick.

it's a dead language.

[grace the snow is here] a reminder of the cost of beautiful things...

when you tried to trample me underfoot you only managed to scratch my eyes & the scabs grew over them like giant knives pointing outwards until i could not stand next to anyone i could not face anyone or i would stab them deeply with my own wounds with my own healing it would not hurry itself along one must be still & wait & the scabs will leave on their own accord they do every time havent we learned this yet havent we learned ? oh sweet love what has become of you ?

i used to be something
then you drew lines across me
& i separated into sections
i tied myself together with string
but i could walk no longer
only drag my body over the pavement
or let myself be carried

there is nothing new under the sun.

what of the words of the LORD that come out in a drunken manner ?

risk is walking by my side - our hands brush, and my whole body shivers.

"drink a vial of sadness for excruciating devotion & maddening notion."

it was like a chain of paper dolls who held hands & kept an identical shape
safety in numbers safety in numbers

it's a million to one & the millions are turning themselves on & off so if you time it just right, watch your rhythm & your step, perhaps you can sneak in for a bit of understanding. i cant take this alone but i cant take you with me so i'll watch the birds hop from wire to wire & pretend they will relay messages from a far off land of knowledge & of hope. i wonder what stillness is to motion is to progress is to providence.

but is the risk in waiting, or is it in acting ?

i am not invincible.

it's only now that i realise that i am leaving something behind that i am able to take something with me. it's only now that i am ready.

parallel lines parallel lines

the giraffe's eyes were so big,
& the elephant's eyelashes so long
the children watched the penguins
& i was leaving
& i was staying
each time it's supposed to be goodbye
yet whoever they are
& whoever i am
stretch our hands into next week
& pull out a few more hours
but soon they will all be pulled
stretched taut like taffy
& my hands will be full
& my hands will be empty
& i really will be gone
i really will be gone.

of all the bad ideas in the world...this is one of them.

it climbs & tightens my throat until i can no longer breathe anything but what it wants me to breathe,
(& i would rather my face simply turn blue.)

oh epinene, your beautiful heart.

i am ready, i am ready, i am ready

come outside with me.

i know it will not ever be perfect
but my hands will offer up as much as they can
to you

things i am learning :
a) i would rather have my heart break under the strain of overuse than decompose due to disuse.
b) often, i think it is not being hurt that scares me. it's being wrong that makes me afraid. & that, in turn, makes me disgusted with myself.

"We dream of being infinite, we dream of resolution, we dream to give our hearts away." - Douglas Coupland

God bless late night productivity.

my crayons will not stay within the lines of this book you have given me.

"take your canvas everywhere."

i wonder about the way our bodies heal themselves quickly & magically but our minds stay stubbornly broken. i imagine myself a pile of broken bones in the corner of a room with perfection within my heart & head & i guess it isnt really the cure i am seeking.

the remedy is in the movement of time, the way my heart is being sewn up by invisible hands [while my own are tied behind my back]. the peace that is in breaking apart. & when my mind is broken up into pieces truth slips within the empty spaces to mend my thinking. & when my heart is rearranged i see the way hope fills in the gaps.

we are sitting back to back on a chair
& your spine is scraping against mine
the notches are aligning
(it makes me so afraid)
i push my shoulders into your ribs
& lift my eyes to the ceiling
my dry lips opening wordlessly
my fingers stretching out
as the flimsy curtain tries to hide
the life outside the window
as if it would be ashamed
to meet my gaze
as i would be ashamed
to meet yours

'we dont touch
we just span time.
this is you & me.
in love.
spanning time.'

i am hoping for an explosion
but for now there are tiny fireworks in my pathway
the way the traffic lights reflect on the wet pavement
a double signal of which way to go
whether i should yield
my car is locked up tight but the windows are open
songs stream out into cold air
hitting buildings & returning to my mouth
i take it all in & push it all out
in a beautiful cyclical pattern
the yellow line is swaying & i know it's ready to dance with me
it's an active sort of waiting that i am doing
enough motion so that my eyelids welcome the warmth of sleep
& i will dream of firecrackers again tonight

sometimes i feel there may be a frog in my heart
& she's pushing up
up along the lining of my throat
trying her hardest to come out of my mouth
i am pressing my lips together tightly

you arent the healthy
& the healthy is what i am needing
oh i know i cant take it away from you or any of them
i just want to sit beside someone who will hold my hand firmly enough until i start to thaw
& it melts in me & cascades through my veins
eskimos riding in kayaks
everyone knew the day was coming
or maybe no one thought it ever was
i cant tell whether i'm more doubt than hope
oh my clever love you havent done your sums
it's all in error
& i am walking to school with a bag on my shoulder
& i am passing birds & trees & apples
& it's like innocence again
tell me who you are in ten minutes & i'll decide if you're worth the time
i just want to remember things i have been forgetting on purpose
& forget things i have been remembering on accident
i am scribbling on paper & i'm learning to draw
& i'm waiting for them to lift my body & carry it to where there's health again
where there are eyes that work
& hands that will not cover them

i wonder how much of what we call love is really only familiarity.

my dreams run together in a strangely themed stageshow
every night a familiar face becomes foreign

we were rowing & rowing & rowing
& we were finally getting somewhere sparkling
& the wind picked up & blew our coats up into our faces
so it was hard to see
but we knew we had to keep going
so we did & we do
& i know you are still next to me in this boat
& there isnt that much else i can say with such certainty

i can be the ship, or i can be the water. but i can never be both at the same time.