Wanderlust

WRITING FINDING FEELING SEEING

If you’re feeling small today I dare you to sit up straighter, look someone who scares you directly in the eye, take up room at the dinner table, make yourself bigger, when ‘sorry’ laps at the back of your tongue, tries to pick up after you, remind yourself that your existence doesn’t demand an apology, that you are allowed to make mess and take up space, do not be afraid to expand. Every single goddamn minute. Expand, expand, expand.

— Femme Fatale (via ellenjbrown)

fucked. up.

Earlier this year, Mr. Bary posted on Twitter a photograph of himself holding a severed head with the comment, “Chillin’ with my homie or what’s left of him.” But Mr. Pantucci said that he appeared to have simply picked up and posed with one of many severed heads after a mass beheading by ISIS in the Syrian town of Raqqa. Posing with a severed head is common enough among ISIS fighters, he said, that the Twitter post alone does not point to any connection to Mr. Foley’s later killing.”

-nytimes

She was for here with a to-go cup of coffee steaming. 
It pressed the creases of her cheeks or the long green 
dress lacing the chin that was something desired 
and burned sitting still but still out on the sidewalk 
we walked away from all the stuff on the subway 
towards ditmas park through the park and the library 
each building was red I got lost in the trails of the city 
and drank beers with the baseball players.

I asked the dugout to share with me their bodies proudest moment. 
When the reflex of an elbow was just right and we hit grand slams 
and my wrists typed to write this down:
It happened like this: short stop grounder to second quick toss to first he’s out 
I only blinked everything happened then it didn’t.
I sit with the book about the sheep and ear fetish on the express train
crawling, reading the anonymous notes from its last owner I finally
feel cheated since you gave me the book when it was for somebody else.

I take the long way out to feel the sensation of walking underground.
At home the toothbrush is cracked like some fossil
and she hasn’t been home for days
and the milk is sour but he is too afraid to look 
and if you really wanted to know I still think about it:

How we wrapped her in the towel with beads of water 
still on shoulder blades wet hair stuck together 
she breathed in and out I will never forget that moment looking.

So the dreams are happening again.
It is warm inside and cool outside again.
The AC rolls next to my head the air on my knuckles
and everything in this room is the same but the room is not. 
The sunlight is different and it never rains.
I can feel the shuttle subway sometimes if I give in.

The beginnings of these poems bloom in between 
bowling green and nevins street drinking in and out, 
wishing for a pitted moon to climb into slide out of 
when we forgave each other on the yoga mat 
in a tiny room above the largest place in New York.
We breathed like the impatient ocean I sometimes
fall asleep to. The rain against the tin makes it feel like 
the universe is pouring buckets of azure water to pile 
in drains and get stuck in the grass.

Anyway.

You drank too often and I could identify that
like your back in the crowds of billions.

I can’t forget our bodies like that, jesus even those rituals
of ice cream cones wrapped in paper towels or 
to dab an extra layer of green nail polish for later
a small cigarette for now

I really just won’t forget it. 

(first tinder date was a success. he ran away…)

(first tinder date was a success. he ran away…)

organic cat in a basket 

organic cat in a basket 

"Forgiveness requires a shit ton of courage."

welp my intention at the last 57234 yoga classes i’ve been to has been forgiveness. lets hope it works