vaporize 2010

little boy with bangs sits

in his room

underneath the bed

“i am afraid of monsters,” he says.

his hands fold stress into fraying carpet

“come out, come out, don’t be afraid!”

those are the words of a mother

to whom monsters are of foreign shape

and smell; she does not see claws

in the shadows, the dark outlines of fear.

he crouches down, pulls himself smaller,

grows his eyes into protestations, yet

his mom insists on dragging him out

from under the bed, unwilling, shouting:

(these are his thoughts encapsulated for historical purposes)

“if mommy can’t see the monsters,

how is she going to help me

vaporize them?”

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love-sick

filling with water, air bubbling to the surface

poised to sit within an ocean of forever

finally got the top off the medicine jar

the sleep beneath me

sleepless night, refried memory

always a lover who has abandoned

and rejected me. i try to understand

why she no longer calls, or writes.

i try to examine the deepest part of me

smoothing out all the wrinkles

i try to understand whether all of this

will lead to clarity, rightness, love

one breath leading to tranquility, the

silent and steady fall of sleep beneath me.

quitting

dark rooms and heavy weight

the curl of a cigarette wraps itself

around around, unfurls a flag

draped over a slowly-lowered casket

the infinite hush of bowed heads

tribute, bugle song remembered.

infrequent visitor

rich yellow moon looked like an ocean of velvet waves set into sky

the mixture of people at in-n-out gave me the heebie-jeebies

deep conversation is like a roller coaster with its ups and downs

my stomach always clenches a little over awkward tricky silences

my boat feels like it’s wandering all over the place in the storm

i am afraid to tell the other passengers about the leaks

i’m utterly incapable of rousing their attention to the primary

problem which is that we are taking on water

and i am short a lifevest.

this broken thing

dear allagawdah,

it’s really not that complicated.  about 3 years ago, you (and i) had a hand in breaking my heart.  smashing it to smithereens, really.  it sucked.  so even nowadays, although i look perfectly whole on the outside, the truth is that i’m carrying around this broken thing.  the pieces, they just sort of came back together all misshapen with scar tissue.  when i smile, i wonder how the cracks show.  that being said, i stopped loving — that deep, scary in-loving thing.  instead, i started choosing unavailable women.  they gave me a new protection.  maybe i’ve always been choosing the unavailable.  maybe i wasn’t ready.  not totally able to “put the blinders on” – hand over this new, healed thing, because i just don’t know what more damage it could survive.  but it’s strong.  and resilient.  as am i.  so this is just the beginning.  i am taking this moment to stop, turn and look inside.  i had forgotten.  this broken thing.  was still there.  so now we can start the healing.  with loving.

serena

traffic on fairfax is so bad wish i didn’t listen to my gps

man framing the poster by h. silva messed it up, so i gotta go back

get it done again again

the hill was really steep and i was driving a stick shift

had to let go of somebody i love, ain’t no easy task with reminders everywhere

some of my friends are weak, even though i’m not so there’s a lot to forgive

the choices i make are hard, not going to certain places, avoiding the party

that’s a mess of serpents, not reacting to immaturity, but still a part

of me is not interested in growing up

i tried to grow up but it got harder and harder every day

i found my umbrella in the backseat, listened to joni mitchell,

had some hot soup, and so i’m wondering if i’m really okay after all

all of this in the rain

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