no rules writing

no rules writing to get your writing out if you have enough time

timetimetimetimetime fingers writing out

if no one can read the writing on the wall does it still constitute as writing?

these hands now are ... palm faced.they almost touch.
(is this enough freedom she whispers?) rotating wrists.
until your fingers parallel to the veins bulging down your wrists
until your fingers parallel to the veins down your wrists

rotating wrists.
palms facing.hovering fingers palmpad.


this blurry of a description of magic.i call it: palms wrists turning
what it does is cultivate your chi, but hold it, still, but moving, so it grows.

*I am not knowledgeable nor un-knowledgable. More or less these are opinions of mine.

*****************************************************************************************
(emotional blogpost beware walk away )
distraught over lack of time

each moment passes and it's like, "Where's the race?"

I really can't keep up with time.

I'm trying to remember a place, after I'm Done writing this, that exists inside me. I heard about it, forgot about it,been there,left,returned. I can touch it sorta. It's close to my heart.
I can touch my fingertips to it, feels like it goes inside.








Am I watching more people in their mid-thirties on tv because I'm in my thirties?












I have to go now.

you can't go home again

you can't return to the point in which your paid pain originated
was it at birth this started?

\you\can\not\womb\again

you cannot lose again

you can't tie your shoes twice again

un-tie them to return to the center, because it's gone

words left to rot in the air
next day have air dried
like your forehead sweat from a night of heavy breathing

you can never go back again
that place is gone again
it will never return again

you can only pretend to run your fingers through it again

it's over.

i'm so sorry for your lost.

did you lose yourself too?

i have forgotten.

who am I again?

i can never go back again, stare myself in the eye again.

I can only breathe in what's left of me from my body
and hope the new breath of the new me feels clean enough
to enter into my soul
dirty enough to be shed on the next exhale
queer enough to not make me straight

can never go home again
can never speak of my self again
can never believe I exist when i don't also not exist.
can't love you again.
because it's gone.
and we're not here anymore
there's no point
can never believe again
that you are more than what you are when you're here again
can never go home again
can only
already be there.

friend

https://gracevonderkuhn.bandcamp.com/album/grace-vonderkuhn

something to remember.


that you don't need every moment to be good
coffee doesn't need to be dark enough to enjoy it
you don't have to be on time
to notice fogged windows and fogged glasses
and remove yourself enough from the world to be in it
step behind the veil
to notice, that life doesn't even have to work
to find it beautiful,to breathe it in, to accept it

it can be pulling away from you.
you might've sat in the wrong seat, went to the bathroom with the wrong person, ate the wrong piece of garbage
and you're okay, you're okay, you're doin fine, you're staring at the sun.

garbage flower

this fine landfill
a putrifying stench full
of many-colored strings
past stirring still by the waters
potent pasture
prairie of sins loves lost garbage
sent to stay
to send backwards to
forwards
to play itself sweet

smell her armpits
human
and lick her elbows
salty ocean sweat


lick her elbows
croon and bend over for
her ancient suffering turning water into wine
wine sweetly that touches her blessed thistle and chaste berry pie
that drips around her ankles
into the dirt to do cold moon planting into outside pace

she repeats
presses reverse
play.
over and over.
she whispers into the back of your neck about swimming in garbage waters
sold her ducks
cans
cold ones
zero suffering achieved by imagining being covered in garbage
hovering above ground and thrusting out of it all at once
motion upwards from downwards
pelvic rotation of the earth compost heap in which
we work
to turn turn turn
turn turn turn turn turn.

open our hell mouth turn into lollipop spirals orange dream cream crush sparkly cashews
vomit seafood sea of titan seashells
like bursting strawberry pink energy horizontal waterfall
full
shucking to
see it slow-like
in the real-life turn turn turn turn.
all the acids involved and burning heat compression expansion and gasses involved
your past lives and your past strings and your actual past things
possessions oozing away into your soil

two fingers tied down and handed over to the cross
shoulder bearing what was lost
groundbreaking into what seemed

bleeding out what was leftover
turning into what we need

a triangle forming, mountain top

past truths divulged and diverge
holy mother mountaintop
one step
press play.
over and over and over, flood. turn turn turn.
swim stewing river. flood. and lost flip flops downstream. flood.
you catch up and come clean
design desire
dream dream dream
pick it up shake it off
walk away with it

who gives a shit?

i do.

fit two fix two in two shakes of a leg who
gives a shit who
walks away with
a clean shoe
godman river ran through.

holla! garbage swallower.

Tarot Exhibition

What season of the new year should i quit my job in?
Winter: 9 of Cups
Spring: Page of Cups
Summer: 10 of Cups

HMMMM fuck I need to wait till the end of the school year.




*****

shed some skin
drop cloth
makelove to gauze
steamy window cats
make love with paws
on my big pot soup stock
on my softface warm blood red pink flesh
on my air

pull my skin apart
drop red petals roses red string red shoes
clownstyle
pull apart my stiches, mouth-edge

pullapartmyeyes, eye balls, big sight

byebye

11/29/17
Actually I'm quite angry. It cuts the holes out of the fence with holes.I'm angry at all the different ways people bleed. different textures toomany to count and the different gauzes.



OKOKOKOKOKOK
blankblankblankblank
blankblankblankblank
KO.KO.KO.KO.KO.KO.KO.KO.
KO.KO.KO.KO.
KO.KO.KO.KO.KO.KO.KO.KO.

If you carve a look-out, a window, a lens, out of my chest?

lobe

This was not the first time
blue water shivered on the white bathroom tiles
da-dripping
towelling off
such a coldplace
white sterile serene nothing
blue water, blue light
shined, resealed, delivered
stepping out onto the white carpet
no blood stains
just a clean room
with wires.

five hundred coiled wires along my finger tips
to shoot power out burst it out
plumage it out
spear itout
like sword dear water sewer strainer

blue blessed thistle
blue blessed angle
please come hover over my body tonight
so then tooths can make a shatter
single point
pleasurable sound
so you can turn around and
vomit over everything you've ever loved

My bacon on the stove doesn't taste like bacon


my skin doesn't feel like my skin without you touching it

I wanted some years
of perusing my files
to decide whether I should live or die
I decided upon birth, my boat was life

life floats along
catches some bass
some catfish
with minnows
beforehand nightcrawlers


catches some grass
catches some ass
catches a cold

shivering blue water
stepped out of supposed bath house

tried to rub off the dirt
with a dried hand

shut.

Post cycle of death

Wasn't he supposed to be your father too?
You were supposed to have given birth to his first grand-child
Wasn't his head round like your own father?
Gemini father purple eyes like me
Had eyes that thought deeply like him?
Ate steak, but drank whiskey.
You fantasized about your child bouncing on his knee.

In fall time. Death is like raising your fingers to the wind of the spin of the earth going around the sun.Death is grimy turning to brown everything. Brown is fertility. Is movement that occurs under neath our feet and at night creeping in between the shards of cold air. Hair upon the steamy window grasping fingers. They get old and fall apart like the car I'm not sure I can risk to take along for the ride. the car. My body. My hair on the window when it gets long in fast-forward to the future summer steamy in strings. wet branches. tangly neurons.

When the crumbling of my first family started, it started Last Fall. Death after death. Old men and new babies.

slush slush slush
wet leaves under my feet
wet everything
air ocean
slush slush
driving to come up for air by increasing the speed
hoping to pummel the water, the night, the unknown night that hugs us like a
wet blanket
slush slush slush
brain slush slush. slush.
under my feet

so I'll run
so fast
I'll find him
again, above
and we will remember
that we were once a family.
because a sunflower grows taller
can hold hands
or drop seeds for when winter passes
we can try again.

after all that dies
gets reborn

a single finger to my womb
my belly button
dear one
see you soon.