Thank you to Fish Food Magazine for publishing this photo-poem. Check it out.
“We learn early in life that it is painful to love. Caring about anything is a great joy, but it makes us vulnerable to heartache, and our emotions are nearer the surface. Our feelings are mixed because we want to shout to the world that we love and it makes us feel wonderful. It makes us feel superior, able to cope with things that once got us down. Some part of us wants to hide what we feel so as not to shine too bright or be too enthusiastic. We need a little reserve of self so that we don’t deplete the part of us that generates life in us. But for whatever pain that may go along with caring – we would not give it up for anything.” – ‘American Indian’
our mice infested studio,
and our overfilled ashtrays,
and the smell of roasting pumpkin.
your musk on the sheets
and your big flat feet.
and backgammon games at 5am, midnight feasts, love in the dark, body warm sheets that we make dirty, premature mornings and our cardboard curtain.
I miss everything although, I am in it.
The egg timer echoes through these walls.
I must go and risk or
stay and regret or
go and regret or
stay and risk regret.
I love you
and our broken doorbell
but I hear the sea horn and must set sail.
but you make it tricky, tender my love.
I am sitting in the gold-fish bowl like gallery, people ricochet through the doors, humanoid platelets making up the blood of a body then space expands with silence and all is still again.
This phrase: ‘Life is sometimes sad but it’s always beautiful’ came to mind – I thought of Marilyn Monroe. I opened photoshop and began to make use of my idle finger tips.
The Next Breath
all those times i thought i died
the ocean stroked faithful the tide
babies born and hearts beat on
i cradled your ghost for so long
i looked to other men to sing your
kept running instead of still it hurts
i fear the spirit alive in me
i didn’t want to be ok
for fear the love would go away
i tumble through two arms untrue
i left with tears, with finger marks scared
black and blue
i lost myself to grief,
thinking in tears
I would find relief
time to face the mirror
question marks like helium balloons
all that matters is that my heart
is still alive in my chest
my lungs rise to
the next breath
I loved you that January night, or
was it that I didn’t want
to fight the cold outside, your skin
so warm, so ripe.
travel languid sheets, spread our
skin smudged mornings.
the sun makes orange juice walls,
we sizzle, syrup sweet.
sky rotates clouds of birds,
I stay here tied to your words.