[048]
02/13/2009 10:48 p.m.

thumping at the ground in warning and panic,
she cannot, despite these efforts, avoid his
massive leather paws. tining, tining -- there
is nowhere on this vast creature for her
antlers to lock, to rut, to break skin and cry
out and then she is engulfed.

"i need you," bear says, "to mimic the sounds
of humanity. i need you," bear says, "to help
me break into this, to articulate, for i fear."

so she translates great western songs into
folk tales into tradition into colors and into
howlings for bear to consider.

----------------------

swathed in this great mound of bedding i am
a fossil. an owl pellet. a loosely held sack
of bones with broken wrists contained perfect-
ly in a sphere of dirt and feathers.


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[047]
02/06/2009 01:57 a.m.

when i grow older i will be covered in wrinkles
from how much i smile all the goldurned time and
you ought to feel guilty:

when i google-search the names of the lines in the
face where you get grooves from laughter all that
comes up is collagen and botox injections. instead
i will cherish these hollow burrow hole furrows and
fill them all up with words and cool water.

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[046] scraps
02/01/2009 04:13 p.m.

the rungs of this bed feel like ribs rattlin' 'neath her own while she sleeps and she
counts them one-a-two and imagines herself spread across the heaving chest of a beached
blue whale all alone. she has a penchant for certain things, like animals and people
that are much muchly bigger than herself, like screaming without ever making any noise,
like having to apologize for wanting and not wanting, and for pressing her fingers into
peoples' rib grooves anyways.

I am currently Perfect

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[046] scraps
01/22/2009 02:19 p.m.

we live together still and you barely look me
in the eyes and neither i you, oh aye. shaved
off all your hair and bring home women you used
to sleep with and told me so so what, stupid.

this is enhanced loneliness. turbo loneliness.
supercharged loneliness with third-party output
systems. this is way above base kit loneliness.
this is the sort of loneliness what creeps up
unlovely longingly late nights and not so late
nights no one cares to talk you through.

I am currently Better

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[045]
01/05/2009 10:20 p.m.
most every star in our sky was named by the arabs. the a-rabs. oh aye.
sitting out in the wilderness and looking at stars (where you can still
see stars, where you can still see) we talk about everything the dark
ages sucked up from us as a society and how islam is doing just the same
to itself now. it's sucking four hundred years of progress away from itself.
suck suck suck.

in the middle of the night i am squatting over open ground and looking at
the stars. there: aldebaran, the red eye of the bull. there: al hamal.
hamal. the sheep. the brightest star in the constellation aries. there:
wild pigs rustling through the underbrush. i piss into a puddle and avoid
my feet and it's chilly. i dream that i kill someone with the end of a
hammer you pull nails out with and later, that i have sex with a redneck.

i don't get alonesomeness so much, which is different from lonesomeness
in that it isn't lonesome, but alonesome. i am in love with too many people
and my alonesomeness reminds me of that: that i think of people and my
heart clenches up for some tiny thing they do. for their thinning hair
that falls in their faces, for their chubby bellies and their tendency
to tilt their faces down and look up at people through their eyelashes.

i feel like an animal prepared to rut and rut and rut, to burst through
people's lips and wrench them from their faces in unadulterated wanting.
i feel violently infatuated with the broader populations of my demographic:
cute and stupid young white males in slightly more-than-boring outfits who
will fall in love with me and make me feel desperately insecure. i want them
all. i want them all to want me. i want them all to try to trade cigarettes
for kisses and grab my ass underneath my skirt. i want.

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[044]
12/04/2008 03:09 a.m.


i think we're together only because we don't want to sleep alone. it's weird to be drunk alone because i don't come home to you sleeping or with thoughts of coercing you into sex. animals don't get drunk so much. i want to make sure i did a good job of being alive for my parents.

oooooh god oh god oh god. where is this going? i'm tired and sad more often now.
I am currently Bothered

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[043]
11/18/2008 03:36 a.m.
drunken things (in the car, on the way home);

and why don't we go to indiana and rent a room in a motel, seriously i will put the money down.
and when i'm drunk i'm under the delusion that i'm bleeding from a lot of places. the corners of my palms, the lobes of my ears,
and this is MY CHICAGO
THIS IS MY CHICAGO
i live in a wooden house and climb wooden stairs
and find myself somewhat frustrated when you say
"LET ME CONCENTRATE"
when all i want to say is "sometimes i still think you're wonderful."

oh hey. HEY. Let me concentrate.
Hey! sometimes i still think you're wonderful. but. well.
we're both self-centered people.
and it's hard.

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[042]
09/28/2008 05:12 p.m.
Whenever writing, one of the first writing critiques
I've ever had in my life (approx. one year ago, actually) always comes to mind, where I
read older poems of mine since I hadn't written in months as it were, and was insecure
about the things that welled up and so stuck with older favorites. They were full of
angst, and when are my poems not? But they were full of angst and so they were full of
the word "love," and the feedback wasn't exactly positive because the word "love" is so
overused it has become cliche and lost all its meaning.

So now when I write my goal is to have the entire poem be the word "love" without ever
actually saying it, I think. It's very easy because love is absolutely bizarre.
I am currently Thoughtfull

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[041]
09/25/2008 02:30 a.m.
if one defines manliness in the insecure terms of the
rest of my generation, i am more man that most: i can cook a steak to medium rare,
medium, well done, or black and blue, and recognize a well brewed beer, i have street
raced, camped, fished, and drunk a number of my peers under the table, i have most
likely shot cult 45s with more accuracy and gusto, and, as evidenced, i know
how to pleasure a woman and ask for nothing in return.

it is difficult to be the sort of female i am in this day and age. am i second-wave
feminist? how long will the second-wave last? or am i third wave, the strongest of a
breaker set which denounces gender roles and still gets angry at chauvinism, not merely
because of the patriarchal and unequal implications, but because women as assumed and
stereotyped is simply not ME. if manliness is defined by confidence, bullishness,
crassness, and willingness to be up-front, i am more man than most.

I am currently Reflective

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.
09/18/2008 03:36 p.m.
i never realize how truly alone i am until i really need someone.
I am currently Bad

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