i wrote this like nine months ago, i think, and i just came across it while deleting some stuff from my computer. here 'tis

one day, it was time to take the house apart.

 

first there were vibrations so strong 

the windows sighed, then shattered obligingly.

their panes were removed without sorrow.

then the door, painted white, was kicked in.

it bowed deeply. no splinters. (it knew the time had come.)

the frame was removed without sorrow.

then the spirits came, 

taking the roof away as swiftly as they had brought it in.

the shingles waved and blew kisses as they watched the house fade-

higher and higher they climbed, until the house was but a rogue red balloon,

a single grain of sand on paper,

the first night star.

there was a warm knot of nostalgia, even a lump in the throat. but no sorrow.

then the bricks were taken.

one by one they were removed, and the stories inside them were removed too.

this one is too much time spent at herrick.

this one is sophie.

this one is summer camp realization.

this one is cold feet and hands.

this one is that time you were six years old, on a boat, the time you don't ever talk about.

no sorrow. just dismantling. 

no remorse. just arms flung upward, asking. 

 

mortar insistently holding on is scraped off.

bricks disseminated, no longer a latticework 

but a clusterfuck of groping valence electrons.

floorboards ripped up with fingernails.

(ravenous doesn't even begin to cover it.)

 

wait...

 

the foundation. (its the spirits.)

what?

the founDATION.

let the foundation stay. 

if you take that out, the empty space will be just another sad ragged patch of ground.

just another scar on the earth.

just another vacuous hole sucking life from its surroundings.

we don't need more of that here. (there's enough of it in tacoma.)

keep the foundation. 

one day you will build something better,

more beautiful, 

more harmonious.

just wait. keep it. you'll see.

it's not over yet.

you'll see. 

sometimes a girl just needs her mind blown

you taste like 

what i imagine i would taste like.

shutter pushed/pulled to catch

floating light, suspended bits of mood 

blossoms 

dam broken, river free at last.

oh yes, this is how it can be!

embrace an estranged feeling 

estranged knowledge always there buried,

yet emerging only when spring comes.

your compass points right at me

brought wind from the north sowing seeds,

warmth from the south whispering to grow

east and west merge here

with the common leaves of our stems.

click click click

fire lit beneath my slight demure

arms flung outstretched

heart open as petals bloom and are eaten.

damn.

how did you know my snow needed melting?

that rhythm like a sine wave could have lifted the city.

instead, this is my spring.

you taste like

what i imagine i would taste like...

may the flowers bloom pink and white

may the rain still come.

dusty table

oh dusty table

how do you hold still those objects

collecting your dust?

how might you,

voiceless breathless inanimate

(less animate, anyway)

discard or eject them?

i imagine you would-

had you not been somehow doused

in the baptismal waters of inertia

destined for all time to relax only when the cynical eye is turned,

the untuned ear tuned out,

the murky muck of perception

has a moment of clarity 

and giggles right back at you.

oh dusty table

how do you hold still?

when i walk

i walk with alms

and though my arms will be covered

i know what lies beneath:

my very own manifest destiny.

wooly sheath, all passive

innocent

innocuous-

ye that shall infiltrate

shall know the depth of comprehension,

hang in the air like a spider's thread

sewing the seam

of this world and that-

ye that shall infiltrate

shall see the moon testify.

but too many ants burrow in this hole.

cold, mechanic, hollow-

thorax branded A for Anthill

bustle

feelers feeling for what?

groping, needing what?

too busy to run a finger down the seam

check for holes

see if it's straight

(though who cares if it isnt)

take a moment

stay awhile

isn't the night lovely

isn't it wonderous!

so eight legs are content 

creating naught but for herself and splendid selfish gains.

complex

complete

rationale missing

but i think it looks better without one,

don't you?

the moon sees it

chuckles good-naturedly

and shimmers on the dew drops

young and wet

like water babies.

what to do?

when questions permeate inspiration

engulfing, 

clogging the drain like chunks of meat,

filter insertion complete?

what to do? 

when yellow bedroom is too cold for sleep

walls too barren

pillow too shallow

bony knees knocking

blue robe shivering

awake and wondering

what's wrong, where is peace?

wondering, but deep down

just knowing

(as usual). 

what to do?

when solemn, well intentioned digging

by thick warm hands

unearths the most metallic of facts

so solid they break knuckles,

their truth so ungainly

hands consider re-burial,

re-subterranean-exile...

but newborn truth becomes like baby,

screaming louder if ignored,

no choice but to cradle if knuckles will heal.

what to do?

when eyes are open so wide

you can't see anything

but dynamics?

nothing but transfer, displacement, longing?

nothing but how it is, 

was,

likely will always be?

hmm, i say.

what to do?

girly feet know...

they take me to walden pond

so i can ask my anonymity.

5 stages

this is dedicated to all those mourning the loss of zachary sieben (1989-2009). zach, you are incredibly loved and sorely missed.

come day, go day, timewarp slow

take me where the oak trees grow

paint my face with rabbit snow

malinger, savor, tread no more.

lay me down on salty bed

lay my comrades head to head

let the ocean fall instead

trace our faces, fall in buckets.

don't be scared, i tell you dear.

justified is every tear.

know there's no time limit here,

just a water well to stare in.

ache my joints creak my bones

sing me songs in sieben tones

to burden or to be alone?

such ripples grief sustains.

caduceus

pointe-shoe toes and persistence

elevate her to apple level.

stubborn? no-

just healthy, obstinate curiosity.

grasped at last.

now, anything is possible.

she gazes unto the prize-

blood-red mystery, reflected self

distorted and winking

juicy heart pumping 

stares back. seduction!

not lust-

wonder.

what a woman this is. 

firm crimson curves encasing the future.

through lips and

mammalian fangs,

through tracts and tunnels

long as life itself

the apple becomes you.

one bite is all it takes.

well, 

all or nothing now.

take me or leave me? 

total consumption is perilous 

but

throw the rest on the ground to rot,

and so will you.

now she knows.

(and they say gemini

is the least introspective!)

i will not rot.

i'll take it. roll up my sleeves

we shall see if i'm cut out for life's dirtiest job.

somewhere, dionysus smiles

twirls his winged staff

and smiles.