Tag Archives: beauty
Today, the Sun Was Out
Cloudy Summer’s Day
Poems from My Day (6-29)
when everything’s in order, it’s for sure i’m a mess
Wow. His wife looks at lot like his mom.
Just younger, and a bit prettier.
I should stop noticing things like this.
On a list of things you can’t un-learn
The oedipal complex is has to be near the top.
When I still believed in heaven,
I worried I would become bored after a while.
A physics teacher at my school gave a morning assembly about how if God could create things you can’t imagine, you’d never tire of thoughts.
That was nice, calming, wholesome.
It made me think of what God would have up there that would be interesting.
I always hoped it was a big list of statistics about you.
This is how many total hours you spent brushing your teeth,
This is how many total lemons you’ve seen in your lifetime.
This is how many close scrapes to death you had but didn’t realize.
I’d enjoy reading that.
She would bake scones if she had the time.
I guess I do have a lot of time,
But I think, it’s one of those things, that if you’re busy, you get more done.
I sit and stew,
Sitting next to carrots doesn’t help me avoid my doubts.
I wish I was worse at baking so I wasn’t so fat.
God everywhere here is pretty.
The town dump is pretty.
Even in the cloud overhangs in dull, steel gray.
I feel exotic.
But I have to be careful to remember that is this normal for a lot of people. I’m outside.
Okay doctor. I know I’ve gained the weight back that you asked me to lose.
Three pounds a month. To be healthy, needed to go.
I know it. I’m sorry.
But I got my fifteen minutes in today, and I’m hoping to go bike riding on a regular basis once I get a helmet and a hex wrench.
I’ll get it together.
I’m tired of my roommate using me as a comparison to make herself feel better.
I’m screwing everything up, and
I don’t have the emotional energy to talk myself out of it right now.
What am I going to do after this nice, by-pass year is over?
I’ll go back where I know the roads and bird calls.
No, I’ll go live with the best carpenter in the United States and learn how to use my hands.
Maybe I’ll take another marketing job and sell some more soul. Five cents a memory.
All over again, it’s my worst fear. Directionless and skill-less and dream-less.
You’re a bully to push this on me, this summer brew in an orange label.
It hurts that I have to explain, that you can’t understand. Even if that’s not fair to you.
Let me drink half of my beer, so I don’t have to start going to AA, let me
Let myself leave half on the table. To prove to this body I don’t have a problem.
Poems from My Day (5-25)
the last one, i think, is the only good one of the bunch
She thinks he’s rich.
He has like a million dollars.
Well, if he’s 55 years old,
Plans to retire soon, and has made 50,000 a year for a long period of time,
He’s not rich.
That’s money to live on regular-like,
After you stop working.
But how do you explain that to a hair-toss
Who wants to hate his ex-wife for taking the house?
If you pay us enough money,
We won’t have to sell our souls anymore.
We’ll have the emotional energy to turn around,
What do you think you’re doing?
I’m not working properly today.
But, you know me,
I’m always sorry.
Speaking of stress,
I haven’t felt this much in a long time,
I thought to myself, wow this is kind of fun,
Being this stressed,
Then I remembered this used to be my normal default.
That’s why I deserted.
I’m going home for my brother’s graduation.
Somehow it seems all about me.
Who will I see that I’ll want to avoid, because I feel fat and unaccomplished?
How am I going to get that car my mother decided to buy for me from here to Alaska?
I’ve calculated exactly how many hours I’ll have to spend with my sister.
My mom will have brie and crackers and juice for me at the house.
But it’s my brother, my little brother,
Who’s done something worthy of attention.
Hi Shawn, it’s me.
I’m leaving you that voicemail I said I would.
The sunsets here are gorgeous.
It’s so pretty here all I say is gorgeous.
The beauty has diminished my vocabulary.
That’s how gorgeous it is here.
Huge scrapes of purple, and reds, yellows, and pinks.
Right over the water,
Past the mountains hanging in the distance.
And the clouds,
Make it all worth it.
Because on the days they’re not there,
The clear blue days,
Are the most beautiful things.
Do you know what cedar smells like?
The room where I dry my clothes has cedar in it.
So I smell like cedar.
And I saw bears!
I went hiking, and there was this guy, just sitting there,
Right there on the tree stump.
It’s so beautiful.
The campfires with cold beer and a full moon,
You can see the stars here.
I’ll be back home this weekend,
So I was thinking of you.
I thought I’d call.
Late April in Southeast Alaska
From Down Here
Dear R.P.H. (Letter 5)
I’m transcribing a series of handwritten letters I wrote, but never sent. Read the previous letters here.
I want your opinion. I want to know what you’re thinking. I want to know if you felt about me at all. I want to interact with something real after what feels like three months of fake. How much did you fake for me? You know what? This is stupid. I shouldn’t even care. It shouldn’t even matter. I can’t stop myself. I sat there and had to say to myself again and again, “you left me, you don’t want me anymore. I shouldn’t contact you.”
That parting note, “talk to me anytime.” It was conciliatory. You didn’t mean it. It was a line. Do you have someone new? Is that why you left. It feels like you never talked to me first unless you were drunk. Why did your inhibitions have to be lowered to talk to me? Did I not tell you I liked you enough? Was this because I didn’t share? I can’t really share, it’s just not in me. Please don’t let that be the reason.
Did you think I wouldn’t go with you if you found someone new and better? You left me alone! You knew how much it means to me to share anything personal. Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you’re the fool I always tried to pretend you weren’t. A high, drunk, fool, who rescued me anyway. No. I rescued myself. I just wanted a crutch, once in life. I’m whining now. To no one. I’ll never end this feeling. I hate you. I miss you. I’m lonely. I can’t stop staring at your picture. I’d bet anything you jacked off to mine.
You know, I know you did. You asked for the pictures. Did you tell me your fantasies on purpose? Was that an intimacy? Or were you bragging? Trying to impress me. Trying to put your will on me. I would’ve done it for you, you know. Just because you asked. God I’m pathetic.
I don’t have two feet to stand on. I look down and I’m surprised they’re there. I just wanted your time. This better not be that one great love I’m supposed to get. That doesn’t even make sense. I’m so weirdly superstitious.
If I wrote you now, it would be two lines – that’d be it. It’d have to be tech related too. It’d be short. I’d probably say, “hey, I’m thinking about you.” Or, “I thought about you, because.” Because I always needed a because to talk to you. I never just could. I was never strong enough. I could never just send you me. Though, you asked three times. I must’ve been so boring to you. You wouldn’t even recognize me now.
Maybe I’ll let you know if I’m back in your city in the spring. I’ll say, “let me see if we work.” You’d say, “God you’ve gotten fat.” You’d look at me like you didn’t understand. You never got me. You only liked me because I singled you out – of all the boys – I liked you.
We made together. Me and you. It made me better, did you know? I think you installed AE for me. Maybe that’s the nicest thing you ever did for me. Other than almost call me your girlfriend. The time you called me beautiful, you were lying. I know it. You know it.