April 25, 2013 Leave a comment
He said to me “i love you. I don’t really know what that means but I do have squishy feelings for you”
And then gave me a key to his place
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March 19, 2013 Leave a comment
I fell asleep with you in my hair and woke up with you around my eyes. the larva we were is now a translucent chrysalis. infinitesimal galaxy of imaginal buds mapping out a stretch of vast exploration and interminable indulgence.
Blood stained hands shape the mass of our remains. Scattered frass peppers this terrarium and rot holds itself up on promise crutches. Betrayal bends over it’s back brace and soothes me with the unmistakable stench of nostalgia.
in love, comfort is a lie we tell ourselves. Air freshener to mask the smell of shit.
March 8, 2013 Leave a comment
You are the only person in the world I can spend several hours on the phone with, several times a week ever since we first met several years ago.
Cada día doy gracias a la vida que eso todavía no ha cambiado.
Hermano mio, somos cortados con las mismas tijeras. Estas en mi sangre. Mis huesos son estampados con toda nuestra historia absurda y canciones de nuestro amor se vuelan de mis dientes cada vez que hablo.
Hasta la muerte, tu y yo.
March 6, 2013 Leave a comment
1. completely unbroken. stand tall and spit breath of sulphurous fire and make sure everyone knows you dwarf china’s great wall.
2.completely unbroken and utterly bored. stand tall and push hard so you’ll never be the first one pushed. make sure everyone knows you’ve had your portion and you’re carelessly and prodigally throwing your leftovers out.
3. completely caught off guard, my own words around me like hyenas. decapitated in one fell swoop, i stand headless, heartless and faithless while karma laughs her buoyant belly all the way back to hell.
February 6, 2013 Leave a comment
tonight my 13yr old goddaughter contacted me secretly to vent and connect with the one older woman she looks up to who is not in her immediate family environment so that she could express her teenage frustrations with someone who has no ability to punish her, the one older woman who is put on this planet to hear her without judgement and advise her without ulterior motive.
I explained to her that when i was her age, I too felt completely suppressed by my parents choices and behaviors, that my only avenue of gaining any kind of power was to rely on my parents’ predictability and use my interpersonal skills savvy to interpret their daily nuances as routines i could depend on and decide exactly what was going to happen in my life based on how I responded to what I saw clearly as their bottom lines. If I wanted to go to a friends house for a sleep over, my grades had to be up to par, my attitude had to be one of gratitude, my tone had to be tinged with developmentally superior wisdom and my actions had to be actions of a leader, and never a follower. My words to her when she told me she got in trouble for being a smart ass were to control the people who control your young life right now by anticipating their response and avoiding what you know will ruin your chances of independence. I wanted her to know that while she may feel oppressed by generations of relatives, she in fact has an upper hand and can decide how possibly sticky situations with family will end based on how she chooses to respond.
What she may never know is that she taught me the same lesson in hearing myself say it to her. The God in me, and the God in everyone is that voice that calls one to behaving more intelligently than others, more responsibly than others, more enlightened than most and closer to the standards we hold others to. While also calling us to realize and remember that everyone has this urge tugging at their hemline. Some ignore it, some deny it, some suffocate it with work, money, destruction and other distractions but when a child expresses self doubt, even the least of us is called to be an inspiring voice and, miraculously, that voice echoes where it needs to be heard most: in the self.
I took another negative pregnancy test today and it almost broke my heart. Realizing infertility may be a part of one’s personal reality is tough. Realizing it when you are constantly surrounded by children, pregnancy and families is a whole different beast. The preschool teacher who loves children but can’t have her own, the preschool teacher who children love but who might have children who hate her if she could even manage to procreate like so many undeserving, awful, abusive, simple people do everyday.
Today, two of my kids called me mom by accident and they look nothing like me. I am touched by this whenever it happens. My work saves me in ways I may never be able to fully express, except through the patient hugs I feel lucky to give when they are exhausted, enlivened and/or impassioned about any moment in my presence.
I may never be able to create a child with the person I call my endless love, which on some level seems entirely appropriate because the truth is my endless love is to be there for and with these children, who aren’t mine. Who come to me for, at the most, three years and then I never see them again. Usually. My goddaughter, of course, is forever my family and I only hope I am able to be a beacon for her throughout this life and posthumous inspiration is equivalent to a Christian seeking heaven.
My own mother and childhood make me grateful I can’t have progeny, but, my desire to do things differently makes me want to be a mother more than anything.
I think until I see that differently I’ll never have a kid. And who wants to be a kid born to a mom determined to do everything her own mom fucked up the right way? As much as I don’t believe in fate, I can’t help but say that if I get pregnant (ever) it must be because there is a higher plan for this womb and the life it will bear, I can’t help but say that I haven’t yet because mistakes should never be human beings.
I don’t know much about anything. I don’t know half as much as I think I do about raising a family and I’m afraid to find out because I don’t want to ruin anyone’s life, because I am sharply aware of the truth that every choice a parent makes impacts their children’s lives in ways that are permanent and palpable. I know I work with children because I always wanted an advocate in my corner as a child. I also know I’m a good person, a good teacher, and a good potential parent because I get so paranoid about all this stuff. Thinking about this stuff and worrying about it and realizing the heavy, huge importance of it all is what makes parents crazy, in the best way.
In the meantime, I am glad I’m not there yet and I’m glad I have a community of children in my life who feel safe and loved with me.
April 2, 2012 Leave a comment
you dont know yourself and you definitely dont know me. how could you? i’ve held you in this space that exists between delusional and comfortable. neither one is admirable. and one of the two does not a relationship make. and the two twogether are pathetic at best, tragic and woeful at worst.
that just may be us.
suspended like sun and star in my every thought you once were. in fact, just this morning that would be an accurate way to discuss your position in my galaxy. but tonight, posthumous love is not so forgiving. i have worked arduously to keep these crocodiles at bay and now they bleed from me with unrelenting gothic tumult. my ruddy face swollen with i told me so’s and my pores like bucket toting children in the rain catching watery regrets. rain is recycled. the same water that doused dinosaurs soaks my pillow case and the footprints left behind are triceratop-sized. endangered: your power and pull here. extinct:my vulnerability to you after today.
i miss you already. i turn to you like a sunflower in the afternoon rays. without any control of my molecules, i bend toward your warmth and am satisfied and opened up reluctantly and happily. distraction perhaps. love of my life perhaps. neither perhaps.
November 16, 2011 Leave a comment
pricked and purple my perforated palms around this rose I love
there are too many thorns to count, not one petal to speak of.
when that which makes me pulp and raw is the sole object of my affection
it’s not the thorns that break my skin. it is my own deception.