December 2011
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“How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it...”
– “The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart”- Jack Gilbert
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And I kept promising myself that December would be better. Months are getting longer and longer and longer. When will I have an answer? Its starting to feel like never.
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Come home.
I need your laugh and your arms. Mostly just the sound of your breath keeping time with my own, heartbeats intertwined.
I feel like I’m going to puke.
“Beneath my hands
your small breasts
are the upturned bellies
of breathing...”
– Leonard Cohen, “Beneath My Hands” (via Read a Little Poetry)
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Poems in the making. I cut my finger while I was cutting my hair last night. I feel nauseous, but it isn’t the hangover. Did I make a huge mistake? Who cares. Sometimes things like that just bubble out of me, I can’t contain myself. I almost yelled across the parking lot, if that makes things better.
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