emit's calendar

Thursday, October 12, 2006

10-12-3am-06
in the frightening everywhere here,the caustic atmosphere--acidic threats to my scalesthe violent mundane-- septic trampeeds of clockwork peoplei avoid, i won't keep up with them, i won't leave this behind--this-- serpent rise of promise, heavy cloud, distant shape at sea.this is what makes my movement something i can bear.i can't go where this current doesn't.I am sorry. I am sorry that I am not readable right now.I am sorry that I don't appease the company at dinnerwith commonly accepted answers and fashionable humor.I wish that I could so that I wouldn't have to work so hard.


Mimsy, your desk
i like sitting at your desk.it is white. i don't want to leave.i don't want to write from any other desk.i am safe in this chair.i am sad that the clock is pushing me out.this spot is safe nough for my little birds to chirp.thank you for your home and your heartand your mind that is the most satisfying.you are in the living romm with Collin and the girlwith the gen name.I am happy to be here with Selma songs,awaiting your bedtime.


sleepwalk
timebr holliehere we go..falling berry red crushing over thestone steps where we take our breakssmoking in disenchanted conversation.your head stroked by my apathetic hand.my pale blue sleeping hands, they stroke youthe way I would if I were here.you know what I mean.we sleepwalk together sometimes.

on
10-7-11:45 pmA tall glass, red as iron rust going tall up my happy wild flush.A winter ago a sledge of feet trailed down the silver mountain,Descending into this bowl of dissolve.Hello girl. I am brave enough to cross the feet of breath between where I stand passer on the street and where you sit, curled in your lap, hooded black. I can see you want to cry, but, and need a question to give you the answer.The cold apparitions of my natureHave finally reached your bed.Unannounced, and unapologetic.My attempts to suppress my vicissitude haltedWhen I stole a moment of rage, from our placid illusion of love.I jumped out like a spark and landed ash soft on my dreaming body.When I awoke from this spur of abandonment I was shockedTo find my spiritless body had been thrustinto the aftermath of protective allegiance to myself.I am sorry to have such a ferocious guild of spirits intent upon my communion with them,At the expense of idle moments content on the time I spent with you, dead as a rug.O canopy of city steam, through which I have on better nights extinguished with my fierce absolve to see the stars! I older now, and more has settled on my windows. I look out in my sleep and on occasion stop and realize how far I have hung from such a thin vein. Forgive me, all of you, all of you who speak to God, tell him I know what I have killed. Tell him I’ll bury all the sapling voices when I find that lot of soil deep enough to harbor such a precious life.Strobe lights, these10-9-06 11:50 pmOh this and that my playful guard. Let it hit me, the hollow beast that hangs awaiting some blow that only a blindfolded boy could aimlessly break.Goarding hapless legs over pregnant pink maternity gowns, stored, I am, like the rest of my mother’s years.This ode to the reptile crossing , trappling over the bridges and on to the fabid ruin of our padded plume.Do you love my brooming fallows and my instead trails leading up to the view where hay strings placid woven words meant for the rain to dazzle with it’s diamond remains.

sleep
Trace me a girl,necklace thin draperies of pretend.I close my eyes so the fuss over mewill drown like the day into sleep.I don't sleep anymore.My bed is mishapen after him.It tells me the end without the story.At this time of night I hold my breath,for the coming sun is a wavethat I can't catch anymore.I don't mind being thrashed like this--it's the calm the stirrs me.The waking up.


fish
O,little perch.Slender grasps of spring revival.Thin green like that song,reaching over the mills to rasp a note.You break over and overthe sun, yolk round and all the animalscarry on as if nothing has passed. Not eventhe name from your mouth, not eventhe years that stole you away.Don't I beg you, give up as I have,on these imperishable treesthat carry your breath into the tower-ing fire of their exuberant fall.Down here, little birdthe ash coats your feathers, paves you into the roadsupon which your love goes passingwithout notice of you.Down here vanities absorb thoughtuntil you are full of longing for forgetfulness.I would go back to that branch,and continue my song about the golden lady.It is too late. I have aquired a taste for allthat stays below you, stagnant water,comfort to a frightened fish.


4:30 AM 10-8-06
Open a riddle cased happening for a riot of blue.Will you be with me when i'm a sillouette?When my shards of glass loose light deepening night cloth?When my sketch is smudged down to the nimble tremblesthat my fingers fear to lay on your warm presense?O my fleshened place, let me collapse hereon your breathing stronghold. I promise to be betterafter you allow my wilts to gather on your fertile warmth.Let me, and I will show you the heights these latent bones will reach.All I want it permisson to to give into my feebleness.With that I would fight wholly against it.If you believe in my death, i will at once rebel.

10-8-4AM
Orphits, in my braised hollow. Simmering owls fed wiles. O this sitely view of umbrellas brilling over the alaskan corpse of my ash scraped memory. A tune to ride, like hoping hollowed out and starting over on the face of burdenned hours. I will embark on this journey to the racks we set sail from, without a hand on the steer. I will go back, through the black walls, through the howling vacance of our blood, through the invisible monsters that gobbled our time, through the waves we let pass between us in hopes of preserving the distant veiw of your ideals. I will go back to the real cry that I first let speak for our loss. Let all the bodies of our children float back to us warm with tears that reveal our nature. I will not set foot on the land until i have retrieved my remains. O shallow let me go. O father let me off your hook. O mother come with me into the past where you bore me without a hand to hold. O sisters, follow me, leave your desperation on the sand and climb onto this raft, that is setting into the heart of dawn.And suddenly the spark will come to shudder, smooth out, and all crass rememberances will cry wiley and joke and my father will take us all out (you and I, and the rest) to griffith park, and we'll cry all the while cheeks shake and shuttle upon the ponies we aren't supposed to kick. O lordy, someday we're supposed to fall and live, and what if the consequenses of our personal loves just shake upon the sparks of stars and see nothing, nothing, nothing buzzing like a fly, a million fillaments obstinantly speaking on. I know how to love all too well. I cover their faces with the easy inevability of suppossed giving. When asleep I always walk around Beacon Hill though I know and fear returning to my home and Him in Roxbury, and I think of a false love, groping towards immediate satisfaction, the ability to live and digress in dress upon all that you are living for.


10-8-06 ruth's birthday 1:50 AM
Daddy? Why did you grow me upin that field where the sun salivatedand the corn erections pushed over my toppling head,and the mountains let me give them my own namesthat you repeated , like my mind merited your attention.Since you took me from that place, I have been faceless.That is where you lost me.(Zhalih, please always continue to be my relief, as you are, a solace amid the bland currency of common interaction. I will make a castle out of your said remembrances, a place wherein we can have a life again, just like we think we've had, yet never have had. Beauty lies in the desperate recourse of love, and you are my family.)

Friday, October 06, 2006

Somber arousal
This morning before I have sleptI will summon the rooted reaches from my bedwhere they branch their webbed veins asfar as my heart sinks, to feel that caress.The roots of my teeth are growing warmwith my remembrance of these dream catchers.They will rescue me from being sweptinto the shallow waters, where the treading is easy.

then
Fain affection from rodant kingshaughty finite smile.You will be lost when your lipstick caveswith your dreaded destiny. A hag, thought soby the same audience you left me for.You left me for the hours of pretense,squandering the last nights of your magicfor dead heavy gold,which paid for your stayon the decending thrown.I wish you would have stayed, homely next to me.You would have invented a wildernesswith your thoughts back then.Your mind is strewn hapless like a beggar now,because you have forgotten me,like all the colors that once crowned you.



10-4-06 7pm at the smoke house
Is your forehead still a swollen absence warm skinned baby?I am sorry for all the abrasions and the trafficand the madness that will come tomorrow.If I were your mother I would keep you in the darksheltered from the caustic armies of the generations.I would be a bad mother,holding you hostage in my lulling voice, yearning weedsfor the bottom of the river under our birthed bodies,arid as our first breath.I would keep your sleep tied to meso all the marching soldier days would pass you byleaving you as I was, limber enoughto grasp the world in a stroke of wonder.


10-4-06 5pm
Silly rinds, thick and tastelessencompassing the black eyesin the thick of the sweetest pink.I have not slept for two nights,I am at his computer two years lateras if nothing has changed.My hair is blonde again. I don't want to sleep. I am afraid of that surrender.I don't have plans, but my glass is emptyingitself on me so I am dreading a trip out to the plaid,where my dilated pupils my catch a spider.I am ashamed to need so much.I feel like a scare, but I feel like hiding.


10-4-06 3AM in your room
We’re emulsified in these cognitive attempts,hindered by our consonants.Will you find a word to measure me?Will you lay a sentence over methat will rectify the carcass of my life?No, you don’t believe that letters spelled through meCan amount to this. My freedom.I know how to find the vowels in the thorns.I can loose myself from any snarl,dispatch the codes with these well placed vowels.

To my best
Perhaps despite the haze of ballistic intoxicating affectionyou are being robbed.Is it so far fetched to imagine that the oneyou repeat over and over your broken heartis just a scratch? A flaw in your shining surface?O, I wish you would see that the laughter he fills you withis made exuberant by your capacity to feel joy.You enlighten him through your perceptive love.I wish you would fall for your ownimpassioned resonance with beauty.If only our own warmth couldhold us over until we fall asleep.I will happily accompany youon these excursions with phantom promises,but only because you know that we know,that you are the road and the feet and the breaththat carries you down.If you decide that this passion is too muchI will remind you of the vastnessawaiting your undevided attention.

Monday, October 02, 2006

stealthily
Elaborate, these enormous accessories that quantify our spaceand beneath all these dusty trophies are the pine needle bonesthin as silk the constructs of our histories.I would like to burn all this away, all the success of our liesI seek the still posture that I built this mound upon.The brittle foundation that carries this.I will dive into the rubbish as stealthily as night,to reach the abandoned posture intact.Solo as a star I must return to the bottom.


The Wake
Your fossilized heart scars my tissue--pound pound pound after poundweighing on my chestin the moments I spent prayerlessfor your warmth.My beady eyes are fire spit stingingthe flesh on your knarled sneer.Go away my phantom hopeand find yourself shaking in the boardsof your father's house. I loved you becauseyou are, beneath it all--a cry.When will I fear the danger, the poachers, the thieves?O I will tell you. I will fear them when I am not one of them.When I see my life as yours or any others,precious as the rock that breaks us.Defensless lilting hopes we are,tilting towards the moon, long afterwe have laid our monsterous heads down.


october 1st but after midnight
old whimpers stuff this boxyou stole away with my papers,those that i never had time to organizebecause you filled the space for dreaming.I provided amusment for you.My insufferable shortcomingscould conjure a smilethough my heart and mind could not.

Friday, September 29, 2006

mother
He is the shut mouth of the springhelp me dilute my thirst so all the words dissolveonto my supple tongue stiffened silent by these lies.he doesn't love me mother, but mother,he is all that gets through anymore.I am like you now, a whisper clinging to the fall.

Monday, September 25, 2006

hyperconciousness
go long hopegoes alwaysi pale at the sight of day.gross enchantments in the groves,suckling our bottles without wordsto pass between our mouths, to weighas heavily as the sounds before dawn.i was a girl once for a moment.children are ships that sail awayonce you have touched land. I am stranded.come back for me, my legs aren't ready for these snapshots.here everything is caught like fish,sold and bought and eaten.once i could swim through any storm set by my father,and his weather was hostile, but the temperate realitywas a fairy tale. now i am still, where there are no stormsbut i am the storm,without sails to catch a breathto carry me away.

Friday, September 22, 2006

falling
he will come back my seal,don't fold like the envelopesyou always send into your boxes.my eyes have captured what you have lost in him,nothing but i know you feel that way.the days of the week are marked his name.the hours of the month are all gaping open,hoping for it, always, waiting to be filled.you are a white mask, you are bloody love encased.it is evident how both of you yearnto sing in each other's sheet's,the beatles always scurrying between you.


Colin
recently i have ssen my rosita's eyesrotated by mars- his ivory hints at her pearlsalways brings warmth to my hearthe sees her, but he cannot stay long enough ever, andshe moans silently watching him pull away into the phoneor the road or the wife's house.he adores her, as much as he knows,but still there is more to adore.

Monday, September 18, 2006

dirty splits soak up this scuma ring for a spill in my pantsdon't take me lightlywith your dead eyed sneeryou rascal of clayyou earth quakei will wander this fire eaten pastand find the rootthat still grasps the earth.i will not be sorry againthat i am this wanderer.i will not cry to you afteri have spoiled the broth of my heart.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

his bike
His bike was stolen from my house again.This bike was given to him to replace the last one.Last night it sat next to my pretty bikelike an awkward middle school boy, clunky and big.It was chosen over mine.Perhaps his was whining in the night andsomeone had to shut it up.Maybe his bike called someone a ho.Maybe his bike took off on it's own,tired of being taken for granted
Thursday, August 17, 2006

8-16-06
A decade ago, these minutes would have been motionless,numb throughout the bodybut as the ages gosteadily harping on my body like wild children,I feel inching minutes groping at me,chasing down a blunt thought or a loose gaze,desiring that every hour is thouroughly exhausted,be it through my hands, my voice or any of these interpreters.Who is it that drives these escapades?This yearing to document what I haven't comprehended is my sole education.

it's almost
all of us. Here is a peice for you.Don't tell anybody how i feel to the touch.Don't look and see the others in my eyes,monstrous parties hounding through my closets,shaking my hands like fat pinjatas.Like my motherI shuffle now,my steps don't leave the floor.