thin/thick thoughts on thursday

From the backseat

My mother tells me

when she picks me up from the train station

that I’m supposed to fall in love at 27

she tells me this because a psychic tells her this

when she’s trying to find someone who can hear

her brother from the other side

 

My father kicks me out of the passenger seat

because the backseat of the car makes him sick

He says we have to call the town to tell them

it floods in front of our house and the basin

is overflowing

 

My mother replies that he ought to tell them

the street lamps don’t work and haven’t for years

and he doesn’t believe her

I also know the street lamps don’t work

but sometimes they do when I stand under them

 

I don’t think I’m magic or special or anything

but it makes me think our bodies are really electric

and magnetic-we’re flat out crazy not to acknowledge

all the invisible forces that govern our bodies

I think it’s weird people don’t think or talk about it more

and most people think it’s weird that I do

 

My mother tells me Sal died-her best friend Nancy’s dad

I immediately remember when Tessie, his wife, died

at her wake Nancy’s son Anthony asked me out for sushi

I glanced behind him at the casket silently laughing to myself

I could only think “everyone grieves differently I guess”

 

My mother and father fight over which lane

she should have gotten in and how she always

misses the streets we’re supposed to turn down

she always replies everything happens for a reason

these thoughts always halt as we pull into the driveway

 

Now

Don’t think too hard

I tell myself

as I leave my baggage

for somebody else to claim

I’ll buy what I need new

show myself on the outside too-

I’ve changed-now

painted by more color

between all the black and grey

 

Created for space

Panthalassa and Pangea were waging a war on themselves

and split their hopes and dreams into different parts of the hemispheres

at a time when hemispheres didn’t have a name at all

because they didn’t exist and they didn’t have people or language

to explain them or make a distinction between the two at all 

 

Out of lungs

Sometimes you have to say things out loud

so it’s known-yes, for certain

this feeling has found a place

to occupy in a vibrating soundscape 

 

Hear this

Do you ever think about sound

how it surrounds your body-

doesn’t just leak into your skull

but licks your limbs and skin

what if natural sound

like rain and thunder

sounded like piano scales

on other planets

not artificial but

just the way things are

the wind like soft trumpets

whirring at the lips

3 birds

three birds flashed before my eyes

you, me, and elohim

what a holy trinity I thought

comedic and full of errors

we made sure to leave room

for tragedy

to honor the past that was

burning between

my fingers as I came home

to me

now I can really see

now I can really see

We had to burn the past for my shadows

to breathe free

freedom knocks when forgiveness calls

and we are home deep within

a core that bleeds upward

 

 

 

Phina (“the burning ones”)

Ask all the big questions

Ask them to yourself

Ask me

Look up and ask the universe

why we’re starting to look like our souls

Look down at the spaceships we call feet

and think about the first time

you let them take you someplace new

because it was time to move forward

and then ended up on a porch where you found

the words you always hoped to find

for the things you knew were there

but couldn’t see

until you turned on all the lights

in the bedroom of your mind

to find your way here

home

20170605_191648

 

 

When You Let Your Bodies Talk

One balmy Sunday morning sometime in September, I opened my eyes to him. It was then I came to understand the wordless conversation. We talked so many, many times before-but none of that seemed to compute anymore-it was just filler anyway. Our conversations really live in the soft rustle of the sheets while our limbs slide against one another. This is where they were always meant to be.

”                        ” he said.

”                        ” I said back.

I stretch out on the flannel plaid sheets and I laugh. A small release of sound, more like a hiccup than anything else. Everything is clear in the absence of words. We focus on the yawn of the box spring instead. I listen for the crescendo of his breaths. He turned to me and pulled me in so my nose lightly grazed his neck. I now know this is our morning greeting. The shells for our bodies press together and we know this translates to, “I’m awake.”

His fingers trace the freckles on the edge of my cheeks while I capture his other hand in one of mine. We are bound together by the conversation of our bodies-these are the words we couldn’t risk to say aloud.

This doesn’t last all morning though. Eventually we share a sad look that means, “we have other responsibilities today.” So, we fall from the cloud and onto the stale carpet. I laugh as I watch him struggle to find his glasses so he can find his shirt.

And then the illusion is broken. We leave each other and walk off into a day of meaningless words; we stumble off to answer questions like, “Did you read that e-mail?” and “How is your love life?”

”                     ,” I say.