In Between Molecules of Oxygen and Carbon Dioxide

The sunlight beams at my mole eyes. “The sun that emanates from your teeth”, you say, “is the sun that illuminates everything else in my life.” I laugh at how unoriginal your words are, missing the tenderness that lies in the interstices.

“I have big teeth and they’re yellow. There’s nothing pretty about that,” I reply.

“You know the suprasternal notch?” You pause for a moment and flip through your catalogue of memories. I imagine you smile and we wait for an answer that doesn’t come. After a few minutes of silence I chuckle a little and all I can think about is how you’re six thousand miles away.

(I’ve got your letter, you’ve got my song.)

***

Patomime: let us find ourselves dislocated.
Joints reattached only to discover a reversal
In missed gap junctions.
Refusal and inability to articulate reasons for distaste.
Your aphorisms mean nothing to me.

Oh Well

Feeling grouchy. I don't know. Just off-center, especially today. No worries. Today was very warm and sunny--weather I don't really tend to enjoy. After this transmission, blog will return to fiction format.

Over and out.

And so the Earth continues to spin on its silver axis. Even that will fade.

Speak for me

Teach me to love and how to write without saying you's or I's. Siquis in hoc artem populo non novit amandi, Hoc legat et lecto carmine doctus amet. Having read these songs, this plethora of poems, yet still unable to understand. This futile cogitation is the essence of my defeat. Let these limbs grow weary, because the mind cannot. Where do we begin among the tangles of this nexus and these ashes? Turquoise satin nightie as an expression of the lonesomeness only the moon possesses, or is that a pathetic fallacy too? Architecturally and emotionally trapped, may you be set free.

Perhaps one day I will find the ability and the courage to express the inexpressible. I am weary of this double-speak, these allusions, these meaningless mumblings.

The next posting will be a real one. I promise.

Options

I stayed inside the house all day yesterday, and the only sun I was exposed to was that which leaked through the blinds of my window.

Feeling inextricable from my dream self lately. Dreamt I killed a hairless dog the size of a large hamster last night. T'was not a bloody death but an accidental one. When I picked it up, the body felt warm in the curve of my hand.

Found an old notebook of scribblings and read through. Chapters cluttered and cut up.

[Everything hits at once]

I feel that pull that old women will tend to feel--that same feeling that leads them to watch Lifetime TV.

There was once an elephant who roamed the forest searching for the tops of trees. He was in a place with no other elephants and didn’t remember how he got where he did, although elephants are said to never forget. He told me he just woke up one day away from his precious plains to a wooded area where sun was a scarce commodity and that those who found it were kings. Darkness was frightening because when you are born in the sun, have bathed in its warmth, you will never be able to return to a world of darkness no matter its depth or dimensions. He told me that he wanted see the tops of the towering trees that way he used to.

And he falls and falls and trips over his own limbs failing like madness and his eyes in the air and his clothing shredded and everywhere. Corduroy bits, brown, black, purple, gray, and it was all a lovely collage of nudity that made him smile, at her, at him, at everything that came by. Loveliness that was unbearable and it was all wonderful and fine and all theses pieces finally fit in together and no one else really gave a damn.

Cio cio san

Where are our Havana rains? Our Montreal moments? Glaciers of Reykjavik that reflect the stars that have already doomed us to their will? I promised myself I would try not to be so vague. I'm tired of being vague, incomplete, obsolete and worn away as items in an attic longing to be uncovered are. --typewriter bracelets-- He's hopelessly stuck in the future. I'm hopelessly stuck inside my head.

I thought Urchin had come back, but then I woke up.

Asperger's syndrome

Something disturbs me as I scoop the flesh out of a kiwi cut in half. The remnants look oddly like a fat man's scalp covered with sparse patches of stubbly hair. Have I just eaten the green brains of some sad middle old aged man who, in the midst of a mid-life crisis and deep enerving loneliness, drove him to sign up for some online swingers service?

My life is boring. My hair is greasy. The roof of my mouth hurts because I ate some mediocre three bean chili that was too hot.

Now on to his friend, his numbskull companion.

Now on to the juicebox that wails in scales.