you will appear twice in this list because of how dangerous you are
In yoga you are always growing something. Your spine or the sides of your waist or your arms. Always growing. I like that it’s never a question and there’s never doubt: you just believe it and so it’s really happening. Your arms begin at the back of your heart.
I need this attitude in my writing.
There is a difference between quitting something because of no discipline and quitting something because you have better things to do with your time. I am still trying to decide which it would be if I quit my fiction class. Probably the former, but I’ll lie to myself anyway. I am good at making excuses, for myself and for others.
Shauna and I wrote a thing together. I mean, we are building a house together and the house is called raw footage but today we actually wrote a poem together.
The leaves are starting to turn and it’s beautiful and heartbreaking. Why are writers so in love with sadness?
that everything is like yesterday
what if i just wanna feel you touching me?
ain’t nobody perfect
so if you take a while i’ll make it worth it’
The human body contains fifty-five
to seventy-eight percent disappointment,
depending on the taste of the sky
and how long since your skin
touched other skin.
Many religions incorporate
ritual submersion in disappointment
in order to cleanse the self.
Like you could rinse off wanting
or the scar of words said late at night
on a tipsy rattling train.
You need to drink disappointment
in order to live but it can also be deadly
if you don’t know which way the shore is.
The color of disappointment is not blue
but endless. In winter it can leave
bruises or cause birds to shiver.
it takes exactly no time to waltz
from red to a pale blue sky.
inhale, heels humming.
do not show me your sense of humor
i have never watched the start of an eye’s glow
without immediately limiting liberties.
ask me how i used to laugh
with gray pebbles in my mouth.
unkempt cobbled, promises made
through gapped teeth between
the front two i wiggle my hand
trying not to startle the rest of my body
mouth still full, still
do not show me your curiosity.
like you’ve never seen a girl blooming before,
ribs and rain and waiting,
don’t ask how the earth tastes in the shade
where I’ve rubbed my sadness into it.
tie the curtains back and
taste for yourself. indulge in the spanish
web outside clouds are in need
of sacrifice. give something like
i shed everyday toward the sky.
do not show me your fault lines.
i am good at breaking things
good at the first bellow of hope
the punctures wounds
the removal the counting of
sea urchin spines i am
good at breaking things
right after they stain the palm
of my hands.
sb & ac
(We thought it would be fun to write a poem together, so we took turns, each of us adding a few lines at a time.)
adriana & i made something beautiful yesterday. <3
Gemini: Maybe you’ll feel a new burst of energy this week, and maybe you’ll feel a change, and maybe you’ll feel some wild need inside of you. It’s a week for just growing toward the sun, it’s a week for angling all your body and your thoughts toward the light. Think of yourself as a plant, as a tree, as something with all the green wisdom of the world in your own body. You don’t have to keep growing straight up into the sky. Growing strong and strange can be enough.