Oh Comely

Because it's so wonderful

to feel terrified and helpless

there in front of him.

To come to realizations

that break you so quickly

and jaggedly

as you listen through

that one album.

The Gate

Goodness me, I've forgotten so many!


I exist as I am, that is enough
-Walt Whitman


So I love you because I know no other way
-Pablo Neruda


Our best yesterdays are now foul crumpled piles of names
-Vladimir Nabokov


So much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying, an intolerable waiting, a longing for another place and time, another condition
-Theodore Roethke


By daily dying I have come to be
-Theodore Roethke


I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow
-Theodore Roethke


I love sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?
-Ernest Hemingway


Perhaps this will be all for now.
I'd add a Ginsberg quote if I could,
but they are all to damn good and too damn long
to put here. 


Also, check out "Words Made Flesh",
it's a site full of literary tattoos,
they are all very lovely.

Take Your Carriage Clock and Shove It

I'm feeling very quote-y right now,

and would like to vent this.

So, quotes:

I imagine that yes is the only living thing.

e. e. cummings

I sort of want this tattooed upon me,

it is one of my favorites. 

A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea. 

Honore de Balzac

We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch - we are going back from whence we came. 

-JFK

To destroy is always the first step in any creation.

e. e. cummings

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am

-Sylvia Plath

You might as well live

-Dorothy Parker

It goes on

-an excerpted Robrt Frost quote

I enjoy this bit especially, it is so powerful. Saw it as a tattoo.

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

-ee cummings

and my very favorite,

for whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea

-ee cummings

(The beginning picture is a quote from Albert Camus)

Communist Daughter

I am trying.

But this is hard.

I need change.

Two Headed Boy Pt. 2

You noted the recurrence 
of hands. 


You said you had once really
loved to draw. Hands, especially.
Did you ever want to be an artist?


You were silly
and made fun of how
sunny-side up
in this case was over-easy.
But we both agree that half-raw
eggs are really horrible
and neither of us can flip
eggs well without breaking the yolk.


I like how there can be talk 
of lots of things.


I like that I get to make you a new 
Belle and Sebastian cd.
I'm so glad you like them.


And you suggesting a band to me
made me quite happy,
you said you'd thought of me,
lyrically, that I might really enjoy
the guy's lyrical style, for you think 
in ways it is similar to my own.
I am so far pleased with the band as well.
You have good taste, usually.


We elaborated upon
grocery store philosophy,
and vegetable zoos
and the concept of
perpetual death,
how we are all dying every second
we are living. Which was uncharacteristic
of you. Yet still interesting.


It is so wonderful to be near you
and to talk on things,
even though, strangely,
my hands trembled this time
when I talked with them,
my gestures were shaky 
and I do not know why.


I love when we can talk.


Also; lobsters:

A calm unlike

the sea floor,

the white plastic 

-too smooth for

claws to grasp at-

is no substitute for

the wavering sand grains,

vegetation strung thick

and murky 20 feet deep.

 -

The fluorescence,

a doctors' office's 

quick glare. The dim

penetration of filtered light

hanging 15 feet above.

Suspended on wires

like traps.

 -

The corner of glass,

scummy-screened

and neglected

-a dying zoo-

stands a sign

of sad disrepair.

Its inhabitants

militantly still.

 -

The falsely blue water

obscures the brightly

rubber-banded 

fighting claws of a

crustacean warrior,

his whiskers moving 

slowly, as though pulled

by an inevitable tide

programmed within him.

 -

The blue, speckled bodies

in somber heaps like

a graveyard of the living dead.

The small black eyes,

pivotal things with

a depth of squid ink

are glazed over,

defeated in ways.

 -

Once rustles his

two threatening claws.

They are bound by 

orange rubber printed

with "live lobsters".

He has been labeled

and identified. 

We know who this

one is, in a pen of

his own. The

"live lobster" scrabbles

over a smaller grey body.

 -

And one by one somewhere

the warrior types,

thick with armor

will be blushed crimson.

The indecipherable whistle

haunts me, as we make 

eye contact. 

"live lobster" snaps his claws

with his eyes.

His death sounds do not

leave me.

The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie

Ready for what I think 

shall be the millionth post

about a boy?

Yes? Then shall I?

I like the idea

of standing in my

kitchen, you and I,

talking. 

You are leaning against

the kitchen sink, 

drink in hand,

and I'm leaning against the

island, across from you,

arms gesticulating,

though in small motions.

We could laugh,

it'd be nice.

And in the middle

of the crowded hallway today,

there was some instance

and I got the chills.

That had never happened before.

I've never got the chills

from a thought of you before...

which is absurd,

it's horrible that this could happen.

I do not like that it's possible.

Tom Sawyer

I want your hands.
They are mottled and
purpled and rough
and cracking in the winter
like my own. Your calloused 
fingertips that I'm sure
can play lovely songs on guitar.
Your long fingers, guy fingers,
though slight, and they are 
square-ish. 


Your hands are warm,
and sort of rough.
And they are my 
favorite hands.
And really,
I think I could not even 
like you, and still think 
you had great hands.
They are just very wonderfully
nice.


I like when you talk with them
and when they are inky.
And where your thumbs are
at odd angles to the rest
of your hands. I think it's 
because of your guitaring.
They have a lovely hollow
at the base, near your wrists
(Which are too faint for a 
man's wrists, really). 


Yes, it's sort of creepy,
really weird that I've 
studied your hands.
But I simply like 
them a lot. 
They are very 'you'.