walking after you

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, as I picked at my feet. Just the post bath ritual of scraping and removing the calluses of the day--just to see where the bottom layers of skin had taken me. I smelled my wrinkly feet as usual; horrified by the odor, but breathing deep anyways for the sake of my own posterity. Tonight, however, for some reason that I can't quite figure out, my feet didn't smell like my feet. Instead, the layers of dead skin smelled like you. Like your slightly intimidating dog after he rolledinsomethinggross. It was unpleasant, for sure. Perhaps even foul. Yet underneath the refuse I could smell the memories of the two of you traipsing through the woods out back. I could smell your revolt as you abandoned the schoolhouse for a higher, treetop curriculum. I sensed a childhood of reckless abandon lived under a shelter of love. It was as if my feet became paws became your feet walking through six acres of native wilderness knowing every branch mudflat big mama clay and creek. I smelled the past that lingers into the present and will probably continue for the sake of your own posterity. It was nice, not to be afraid of Daniel for once, if only through the connection of our scent. And although I still smell like me, perhaps I smell like you two, too.

I left it in Astronomy.

At this extended point in the time-space continuum, I should be writing a paper.

Unfortunately, I seem to be circling the event horizon of an infinitely dense black hole that--for the moment--is my mind. My ideas are pulsating, yes. Sending irregular messages back to earth to indicate that activity might still be occurring. Yet the blinking lights are red, revealing little more than a feeble attempt and a weak frequency of circular thoughts. This fabric stretches beyond reason, a spandex infused faux-denim with endless pockets to lose things in. These jeans this mind those cosmos are seeking a point of singularity. One-- its the number we have to start with. One-- its the beginning we can't skip over. One-- its the smallest number that consciousness can destroy. One-- its the hour my class starts to turn in this paper that I'm not writing. I know that this life will go on forever, but as of this extended point in time, I don't need to know that I will always exist. Screw the Singular State theory. This life, these hopes, those thoughts cry for a beginning. Be it CRASH,BOOM,BIG-BANG!

Just give me a Genesis worth believing in.

Sestina!

You
used
to
love
me
well.

Well,
you—
me—
used
love
to…

to…
well…
love.
You
used
me.

Me,
too,
used…
well…
you.
Love,

love
me.
You,
too
well
used,

used
love
well.
Me,
too.
You!

You used
to love
me well.

-Ciara Shuttleworth

8 am

I deal in blackout poetry no protons not an element we can discuss here i don't study chemistry outside of tenth grade my voice used to crack when i gave presentations my own words now it cracks hearts their words draw tears im tired of being a candoit try that in your Arnold accent on achievement still remember the tempo of the stars and stripes forever onehundredandtwenty beats per minute like that one thanksgiving she convinced me to eat an entire can peed red for a day she laughed i laughed lets dedicate our lives to the untimid laugh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then, one night, when it was once more spring cleaning time, the stars blew open the nursery windows.

We all found her shadow rolled up in a drawer

and little Tink was dying there so soft against the roar

Idobelieveinfairies

cause they take me where I am

first star to the right then straight on to the lamb

Iwontgrowup

Tiger speaks her child tongue

the bow is drawn tight and it quivers what she's sung

you'vejustshotaWendybird

took her wings and fled

she could have told you stories but you silenced her instead

I've tried to love you right but now I understand;

You're still just Peter Pan

flying back to Neverland.

hadda yo do that ish?

Morning happened today. Real morning-- the kind with cheery birds and flowers and ohmygod is that sunlight!? Just when I was getting used to all that rain, just when I imagined I could endure eternal start at 4pm darkness, the clocks leaped forward and I guess it turned spring. Did you know that in Arizona they don't have daylight savings? That the moon on Saturday night was the brightest it had been in 19 years? That Iceland ranks one of the happiest places on earth? That Qatar with it's oil money and eternal heat is joyless?

I know there has to be a correlation somewhere. My blood is encoded with 1/4 of known DNA and that the rest is a mystery of ethnic potential that piques the curiosity of everyone but myself. Yes, I am Tunisian. Yes I am Mexican. Yes I am American. Yes I am Irish. Yes I am tired of not knowing because it seems like they still care.

But maybe if I knew where I was from, I would know how happy I am supposed to be. Is that how it works, i guess? WhateverIdontknow.

So I went out and pulled weeds in the dirt. I am brown brown brown like mud and I am celebrating SPRRRIIIIINNNGGGGG!!!

2 years later and my face is still numb...

my best closed-mouth smiles are inherently downturned.

try as i might, the corners of these lips will not be raised.

but everyone knows i'm happy.

its just a muscle thing

i really am smiling.

:)

see?