It is icy. 

"You can let go if you need to."

I would not drop these bottles to save myself.

"But you can. Consider if you don't."

There would be repercussions. 

"What would they be?"

Blood and wine mixing, thawing the pavement -
the imagery is a little Christ heavy don't you think?

"Do you have a God complex."

Only so far as
my mistakes in this alley are for someone else
to clean up
to watch from a window
to feast on
we could go so far as to say I am a walking favor
even in death.

"Oh there is no good you know that."

Yes there only is
Him waiting at the iron gate
Hooded
Holding nothing 
But my hands - 
My hands - 
Hold on.

A dawn of a new year and the world resolves to begin again. For some of us, it is a day whose antics we reject and instead, simply carry on. But of course I refused to wash myself lest I lose any luck the transition brought me. Continue on unwashed I did. Wondering what of my spirit of disreview and unresolve? What of rejection of backwards or fore? I organized under cabinets and other small spaces, I played the guitar and ate rice, imagining myself devout and undistractedly devoted. That this was and is everyday. The peas and rice, the quiet, disciplined movement in a solitary reverence to the task. For moments, I was a saint. Beyond flesh, looking up and up. The rice only sustaining in the least fulfilling of ways. Up I was, unpenetrable and filled. Full with piety, I become easy tyrannical. I eat each pea with secret glea. My sunken flesh and hard jawline a trophy. Bearing my body as a burden but in my heart, deep in my heart, I am proud. On the cobbled walkways, the click of a simple but well-soled shoe. The earth holds the blood of believers before me. I say "I will join you." That too fills me up. Back in my room, out of my head and only surrounded by the glow of a table lamp, I think I miss believing. I wonder if it is easier. In this moment, glowing, I remember.

There are worse ways

To cope:

Crying, water

Some of us:

Sex

For example:

In a flea market, by the time you come out with less money and more rabbit-fur-covered things, you notice the sock bunched in your shoe necessitating surgery and a bar.

There are no solutions:

Heavy machinery and drink

Exist together

Who are you?

No accountant

No keeper of company but bone

A wise woman

Knows it's the devil's house

​We envy

Fingers, peas, anger management 
​All have this

The prisoners never made it home
The children all are gone
Where rust and beetles settle
Grown
The corners keep nickels
Sunk to the bottom of the Meditterranean
Shower drains dust
Tractors dig their own graves
Just by sitting in place
Collective land disputes
We forget
And ask
Who's making breakfast

Les Horloges
Les horloges 
Ne sont pas vraies

Quand j'ai appris le passé
Tout s'est ouvert

Mais c'est immuable 
Pas comme l'horloge

Ou comme l'horloge
Çela dépend des yeux

Les Briques

Je suis une fille fluide.
Je parle simplement. 
Je me trouve 
Entre autre choses
Étranges et solides
Spécifiquement:
Les briques.
Avec mon paume,
Je touche chaque.
Sur la craie,
Un chuchoter avant
Je les mets
​Dans le ciment. 

Le Spectacle

​Je ne m'efface pas
Plutôt un masque

Devient moi
Cela reconte l'état

Des choses dans
Mon regard:

Des plumes
Des spectacles limités

À travers des objectifs
Spectaculaires et mentant

Beloved Motherfuckers - 

is the way I'd like to start all invitations - equal parts come here and fuck off and mostly I love how it sounds - that's closest to truth - Oh beloveds I go mad for a good sound! But I get away from my reason for writing - I have been sending off emails and trying to figure how to end them - Best? v/r? Cheers? Thank you? - I don't like any - I don't mean any  - but anyways I come across this fantastic phrase Beloved Motherfuckers - I realize I also haven't liked my mail greetings until now but here it is - the one to end all ones - it reminds me of the way I get upset about animals getting killed but I still probably use products tested on animals because I haven't bothered to do adequate research - that's not admirable it's just - true - oh oh! - it also reminds me - this year is the year of Death for me in my tarot and it is also my golden birthday - yes I turn Midas-fingered twenty seven this month, the same year as my year of death - how delicious is that? - Here, I watch things die and here I bask in the yellow glow - How am I supposed to shed anything if I'm solid gold? Maybe I'll leave behind human form? A breathing dead. And through that - that temporal form that I am forced to take - I will... I'm in a café. The couple next to me is eating takeout thai food while sipping lattés and that disgusts me - my pretention and their thai food - not the thai food itself - but the thai food being so out of place. 
-I think I'm going to accept that med school offer.
-Yeah?
-Yeah. 
-Do it. Let's go. Let's move to Minnetonka.
And damn it! They've ruined all my train of thought because now I'm wracking to think if there's a Minnetonka that exists or if he is making a joke I do not get. How much will it cost them to get there? What is gas these days? The cost of things - managing my menstrual blood, greens at the market, letting you look at my eyes, my pants aren't fitting - is always the most interesting thing. Trust me. Look at what is left after a room burns - a ring, a filling, silver coins, a metal grate, ash, ash, ash - and all the flesh formed by consequence is gone - another year - I'm starting to see it in me now -I search other bodies for proof of pain - not for solidarity, just to know it exists as I believe in it -  I do this frantically, as frantically as the way I read books, as frantically as the way I accumulate experience, as frantically as the way I come. I have done it again, I will do it again. I am no miracle but repetition. I avoid closure because I don't know how to sign off. And I don't know if that's for me or for you. And I am reaching - reaching so hard through this pen for the words - fighting through the crowded train - fighting for my life and my death - but we all know what a laugh that is - I am the person who will freeze and as reflex, offer herself to be the one pushed off - shit, could you imagine that walk home? I know how to end. 





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