re-working this one.

The Mountain

When I got the call in the morning
about the thing we feared you would
finally do we ran to the mountain.

Pine trees blend with the ocean
and rungs are mounted to see
the most perfect view of every world.

There, the sunrise happens first
so the next morning after you still had done
what we feared we went there. 

We saw morning before everyone and
I called since maybe things would be
different if I talked to you first.

Over in the small village in the Horn
above the gulf of Guinea the man climbs
up a mountain in broken flip-flops.

He climbs up trees to eat oranges
and give tours to make money to buy yams.
It had rained and the mountain was mud

and still he climbed
never worrying that
he would slip.

His feet were meant for the ground.
Your feet were meant to stay on the ground.
Even without the expensive hiking boots,

(you would think if we loved each other
it would be easy to love.
You would think we’d climb mountains.)

We held our breath at the top of the mountain
We wanted to believe you would be pleased.
We took off our clothes at the top of the mountain
We wanted to come in air that was very thin.
We jumped off the ledge at the top of the mountain
We wanted in bad dreams.
We loved every single moment at the top of the mountain
We were consumed by its maternal grip.

It’s folding and volcanic and dome and plateau,
It descends upwards like an angel.

Angels live on mountains
so they went to see if he was there. 
To fall from each sky,

the summit where the view will convince
anyone the land is worth breathing for
You did not jump.

There is something here
He is somewhere there
I put it in here
There is nothing there

It’s been here all along.

I say it: fuck you.
Then we do as one whispers
Things that deliquesce.

—day 7, on love #haikuchallenge

It was like autumn, looking at her. It was like driving up north to see the colors.

Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex

Flowers withering
beneath the weight of the sun.
Yet the weeds stand proud.

#Dating lol

after I was abandoned at the chile pepper festival …


 “Fiction is one of the few experiences where loneliness can be both confronted and relieved. Drugs, movies where stuff blows up, loud parties — all these chase away loneliness by making me forget my name’s Dave and I live in a one-by-one box of bone no other party can penetrate or know. Fiction, poetry, music, really deep serious sex, and, in various ways, religion — these are the places (for me) where loneliness is countenanced, stared down, transfigured, treated.”


Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.

—Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (via wordsnquotes)

(Source: wordsnquotes, via lostinamerica)

“Don’t bend; don’t water it down, don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.”

-Franz Kafka / Anne Rice