this is inappropriate for any eyes but yours.

i feel like i'm always looking at photographs. the ones i have thrown in boxes; the ones playing out before me-- scene, snap, scene, snap, scene, snap; the ones that i find, borrow, imprint with my own story; the ones on the insides of my eyes.

and when i see the perfect bare curve of hips, a brushing of lips, the blushing of bellies and the loosening of fists into hands reaching, pulling, resting, then all i want is you next to me, both of us naked and quivering but sure and warm and comforted. i want you to trace your fingers all down my side and i want to capture those lines around your eyes when you smile. i want to wake up holding your hand, again. and again and again.

what i plan to do stands before me just as unsure as i am. hip cocked, head tilted, arms crossed. eyes down, gently biting my thumb.

because what if you really like me? you don't know me that well, but maybe you want to the same way i wanted so badly to know you. what if you want to make it work, over that distance and that time and the lack of my kisses all down your bruised back? i would love to have someone and i would like to have you.

but there's this too: god, who the hell am i anymore? i need to get back to fiction, to family, to blending voices together. to working my fingers so hard that when they touch something soft- these sheets, your skin- there's heat and wind and that kind of comfort that you only know right when you fall asleep. this body has been used and loved and handled with an uneasy caution, pressed and folded and laid out again. and this intellect used to find ways to entertain itself; it glorified thought, bathed in rationality, relished in expression. i used to give something.

so i don't know if i'm in any position to love or be loved. i don't know what i can give and that wouldn't be fair.

my thoughts end here. i'll see you tomorrow.

i am not ready for a life beyond this life
so just wait
nestled in my core
preserved in the future
stay, till i have the strength to give

there's a lizard on my shoulder and he speaks idly: lovers are loving and young blood is coming, and what are you doing? you are nothing. and the lizard is wise and the lizard knows and i know because i know the places this lizard goes. while everyone out there is sinning and living i'm spinning and thinking about leaving this city.

but because i am nothing, like the lizard would say, i dig my roots down deep and doom myself to stay. and the lizard on my shoulder, he gnaws at my pain as i sing so softly just take me to spain.

film.

a few favorites:





diana mini, kodak 200

figured i should post these

i'm done writing everyday. but i'll write when writing is worth it.

forgive me, father, for i crave sin
like the womb craves children
and the waves crave wind
with nothing to fight
you've nothing to win

dear,

i miss the lines around your eyes and your nose even though you think it's too big and your laugh, your laugh, your laugh

april 29

thurs. april 29. 2010.

watching you sing last night
all of you with your motion
and the way you laugh between songs
and your hands above your heads
and the way you cried when you said goodbye
i want that back
i want that always
i want music to swell, come up,
come out, overflow
make us all glow

april 27

tues. april 27. 2010.

drift calmly and sporadically
staccato and legato
i sleep i laugh i hope i don't
i give frivolous thoughts wing
i just wish they would take me with them

perched

precariously
on the edge of
what they're telling me is real
working through pages
passing through phases
grace is not mine, not now
but soon
once i fall back into what
i know
is real, back through
photographs and my dusty roads
right now i'm learning
nothing i can do anything with
i want to make things
i want to run, fly, cry
feel welcomed into arms
less weary than my own

(i will miss you
but we'll both be better
when we're both gone)

april 21-april 24

april 21- 24

birthday.
chicken dance.
sushi. best friend.
discoveries. mom and dad.
diana-f mini lomography camera.

april 08- april 20

april 08- april 20. 2010.

too much
too much
too much
too much
too much

april 07

wed. april 07. 2010.

my days are all running together

i want days like this one back::

march 31- april 06

march 31- april 06
sorry, blog.

march 30

tues. march 30. 2010.

what happened today?
i don't remember.

march 31

wed. march 31. 2010.

march 29

mon. march 29. 2010.

mon. march 29. 2010.

i love waking tangled in the
mess you have become
sleepy, you let yourself be
unsure, undone

march 28

sun. march 28. 2010.

i don't like what i am becoming
or this blog

take me home