these days, feeling

little

feeling

much

Jack makes jokes about long baths, candles in dark rooms, and crying.

People laugh and nod their heads.

I thought about this yesterday.

Not really having much to say.

(Is this connection? The fact that we are not okay?)

waiting.

the article asks me: Do you ever think you are getting used to the emergency?

it tells me I am not. it tells me this - like many other things - will take years to understand,

and by then it will be gone.

give it time, she texted me, and i thought of his poem,

of heartbreak stew

or how petty giving those words to marina would seem

and yet they're the only ones to give

the reality you have to learn to live with

there are worse things in this world than dying - a quote from somewhere sticking in my mind

a comfort somehow.

coping crumbling coping

and i miss her already

it's so easy to fall apart

watch me

decompose

like this

touch here

the words 

that made her story

all fall apart

and it came

crumbling down

(i spoke them by accident)

wanting a way to say 

here it hurts here

wanting the hurt to matter somehow

something i can do

easily:

put words on a page.

how to be there for somebody

don't scoop out your heart, scraping the edges of your chest with the edge of the metal spoon will do you nor the person you are trying to help any good

don't take it personally, take it and hammer it with your fists, or chew it in your mouth for a while
take it and hate it, hate it so much even though it is not yours

this is not a time for perfectionism. sometimes you cannot help

acknowledge that all of your flaws will be present with you, acknowledge that you may hurt more than you help, go into it, knowing this.

love the somebody. if somebody loves you, this is also helpful.

sometimes, scream. sometimes, weep. sometimes, feel self-centered and full of it.

sometimes realize you have drawn a burden in a shape of somebody's, and placed in on your own shoulders. be wary of this. look for these burdens in others. lift them if you can. see them.

realize that sympathy is at times better than empathy. empathy knocks two in the closet. with spirits in their noses and dark puddles on the floor.

say things you don't mean. say things you do mean, but say them incorrectly. forgive yourself.

know that this is not about you. that doesn't mean, you won't feel it. that doesn't mean, you're not important.

step outside. you can overcome surface emotion. you can be strong. wipe off the dust to find copper underneath.

take time for yourself.

talk to people.

and one by one in the telling it stretches out. a network of shock but each link can make it lighter, from the center.

know that silence does not mean disdain.

never, i repeat, never, give all of yourself.

if you give all of yourself, you lose the seed,

a husk is not enough to live with.

my love

i've made peace with you time and time again
in my mind reconciling the past and the present
unlikely bedfellows, i lie side by side staring at myself (at you)
with the pane of glass in between the mattress

so many nights wasted in tears and agonized minds
so many afternoons with resolute smiles that fade
to never come to accept the truth--that you will always be a ghost
a friend, a first love, someone who holds me

the holding i never knew and the holding i will never be able to explain
the holding, even as i hear the melodramaticness of an urban adolescence
dripping in my voice like the sunset into the subway train, even as i have learned
to blame you for the wilting of the first frost

on my way home, you a different piece of my life, still
a confused old friend, someone who understands me, and does not understand

and that little moment of sharing beauty, even for so many seconds of confusion
the type of life of hard love of complications i will not be sorry for having lived.

song sketch

oooooh i wanna sit in bed
and do boring things with you 

you could watch a movie (like you do)
i could read a book (or try to)

but you’re so far away
and even though i saw you today
i’m left feeling whiplash
reality as it flows past

but you’re so far away
and even though i saw you today
i’m left feeling whiplash
reality as it flows past

oooooh i wanna lie in bed
and do nothing with you
we could make up ceiling constellations
we could try to

but you’re so far away
and even though i saw you today
i’m left feeling whiplash
reality as it flows past

and you’re so far away
even though i saw you today
i’m left feeling whiplash
reality it flows past

oooooo ooooo
oooooo ooooo

and suddenly i remember the poetry reading in the library 

coming up to read the poem that was labeled as anonymous

the poem the eulogy for my relationship

and the sun streaming in and the charts and everyone watching

and later the poetry teacher ava? telling me how she knew that one was anonymous she was surprised to hear me read it

and later oona mentioning it to me asking me if they could publish it while i was on the phone in my gray basement

and after mr. casey leaning against the window next to that woman professor and him complimenting the poem, the last line especially, saying good work it meant something

that between you in the air him knowing

like when he comforted you because you weren’t okay and he said you didn’t look it either

in his art room crying and choking on water and talking about love and him listening to your distress

and giving you relationship advice?

and telling you to take it easy

him when he would see you walking with him down the street and say hi and you knew he knew because you had told him

sobbing and sniffling breaking down the "savauge" exterior the nickname he threw to you as you and the class painted in the yellow high-ceilinged room

the mornings that washing your paintbrushes in the bucket in the sink in the hallway by the bathroom were the most incredible solace

the high school teachers that make it all worth it, that are there for you in ways you could never ask for, for yourself

i try to explain to her that i feel ungrounded
this feeling
like there is no ground beneath my feet
like it is all falling out beneath me
suddenly and slowly piece by piece
and i am stuck watching it
wondering what the heck the ground is
and why i ever expected it to be there

i try to explain to her that i'm scared
of being in the ground of being above it
of looking at it and having the audacity to hope
that seeds will grow

i pick an angel card to guide my way and get
abundance, as an antidote to fear
to grappling with how to deal with ugliness and pain
and unreality, how to try and hold it all in my mind at once

dirty fingernails, dirt filled fingernails

today the beautiful woman stands in the front of the room
and she tells the story of another beautiful woman and her grandmother
when the young girl said "i am lost, i am losing my identity"
her grandmother said, "go outside and stick your hands in the dirt.
leave them there for at least seven minutes, and then you will remember."

now isn't that a most beautiful thing you've ever heard

reworking july 24, 2019

The families we make for ourselves across oceans across time
Patchwork our lives yours dovetails with mine
Stitches like dark lonely roads we drive
Across the meadow do you see the light
It’s to say if you come I’d open the door
It’s to guide you through the night