Naked Poetry

I’m sorry—I just noticed how actor’s hands don’t shake—oh, my God is that a bowling ball? How about we shake on it how about we lead woth the land how about we end in bliss. Im sorry---i just noticed how tragedy breeds comedy, no matter how fast you try and turn the page.

Let me know if you wanna trade nuances. Okay—-go for Significance. Go for magniloquence. I was told there’s no sleep till Brooklyn. That’s great because I’m busy staving off the energy trying to balance out the masculine and feminine energy and tripling down on synesthesia.

He says, anytime I’m stuck I write a sentence that’s true and I’m okay again. This fellow had a point. Something that is true always survives. The truth always survives the lie. Even if the owner is the only one who knows. Hey! This fellow had a point! This fellow was Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway said, “Anytime I have trouble writing I just sit down and write a true sentence. After that, everything’s okay again.” You see, everyone has a magic trick. But not everyone is brave enough to give them away.

Don’t tell anyone, but when I find myself stuck I write down a single word. Then I’ll look at it and begin to build a story around it. Think of it like a painter beginning with a single color. Getting inspired by whatever it stirs in them. It’s like a game of recall. Funny where a series of letters can lead you…

This is as far as I’ll go

“Do I get to choose the promise?”

“It depends, do you keep your promises?”

I explained to her that I would let her choose the promise if she was someone who kept their promises. Because people are more likely to keep something they chose themselves. When is the last time you broke something you chose? Or why. The only problem I can think of is one of anger. Anger trumps a promise every time, ask anyone! Anger leaves nothing left standing that can claim to be whole. It’ll tear right through you. Straight through the morality you’ve been building your whole life. Straight through the promise you’ve kept safe in a harbor in honor of love.

“If you keep your promises, then I’ll let you choose because you are more likely to keep the promise if you chose it special.”

Because people are more likely to keep a promise they’ve chosen themselves.

This is as far as I’ll go.

I will leave them for you when I am

gone, so you can read them to our children as bedtime stories while

I silently weep in the last corner I stood still in. The pictures we take

on Christmas day will have to be synced to the same day we were both

born. That way, we can always take two. I will always blink twice before

we get a good one. You will comment on my smile and I will say why oh

why are you talking about yourself - my unhinged angel. You look great today.

Do you remember when I told you that I would break my heart for you?

Well I would.

I would let you murder me too. I mean it, if you needed to. I would.

At least I would die in beauty. At least your hands were the last to leave me.

Every night I will read to you. I will read you half my journals, half

improvisation. Depending on the light and the way in which you lay. From that

angle I can see every part of you. You’re my favorite freckle. I promise to read

to you if you promise I can whisper. I want to have angels with you. We can

guide them and never let them figure life out the same way we did. We will

teach them how to love in the lost way. We will take them to the ocean each

week and ask them if they notice anything different. They will always say no.

They will always say yes! And take out their ink pen and list a hundred

different things! Just the way we taught them! Just the way we know them.

Our son will be named Ezra; our daughter will be Eden. If she happens to receive your eyes I will prepare her for what is coming. Teach her all the ways to say the word admiration and will make her a red picture frame to put her heart in when she wants to take a break from falling. She will be so beautiful, t

50 points knife play champagne on the bed red wine in the air everyone in a whole while I’ll stop laughing when you stop wanting to die it’s not a joke anymore it’s been fifteen minutes since I’ve heard you silent. You’re wearing red, you never wear red. Please talk to me my love is on the line my earrings are all in place back-breaking neck work to create a flower bed I go there sometimes when the weather’s right.

Thought I’d post some positive vibes lest we forget we all have our purpose here. I think I might’ve found mine!

Must have been the hours of sleep. Could not have been the first installment of your voice—your perfectly sultry face.

I remember

balloons

full of water.

Shot guns

and punctured

balloons.

Rain came

and left the

mud

dancing.

The devil

re-traced

his steps

and rolled away

when

the rain stopped.

The hills were

drunk

and happier than

ever before.

So happy they did

bad things,

relying on the rainbow

to clean their eyes.