reading #222

AME AND THE TANGY ENERGETIC BY KATYA MILLS

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dream of a loss

i just now woke from a nightmare whereby my keys were lost or stolen. my friend sarah who i havent seen in a decade was the only bright aspect to the dream. she was helping me. taking me to some lesser known city resource where hopelessness ends.

we were waiting in line when i woke up. the stress melted out of my mind and body like a pad of butter in a pan. the birds the sun and the cats preceded me to consciousness. a couple hours before work. how terrible a feeling, to lose anything important to you.

archive k

The right is preaching morality again. Not that the left isn’t. This is not news. The right is taking sides again, damn it.  They are halving these lemons with merciless stainless steel knives they sharpen behind smirks and glassy eyes, listening to Limbaugh and talking about handicaps. They are crying now, the right, crying while their daughters work their confidantes into friends into acquaintances and phone lists to drum up a ride to the clinic and some cash for the procedure. Its outpatient. Its dire. It has been weighing on the young girls’ minds for longer than necessary. And the tears fall at around the same time. Early afternoon when the lemons are being spruced up and gutted of seeds for the marinated mountain trouts. His eyes are stinging and he’s crying and laughing as the compatriots rib him over it. Like they always do. Grown man crying. She’s sedated but still more aware than she would like. The nurses told her best to take a mild sedative not a deer in the headlights dose. Why?

Now she knew why. They were right. Because hey, she was still in her body afterwards, and though the seconds were hours, they were gone like seconds and she found herself looking back into the outpatient room almost as though it were too soon to go, unnatural so. She was saying goodbye to the nurses, now. They were trying hard to smile. They were doing it for her. Focused on minimizing the trauma. No one wants this. No one asks for it or deserves it. The right was wrong. The far right. The crazy deadstare lifers with their deadweight x-rate images no one should ever be forced to see. The deadend lifers dead to the daughters of the invisible American family experience. The parents whose lives have turned a difficult turn again, and no it’s not the best time to share. Not the best time to care.

Will it ever be? Maybe. Maybe looking back ten years gone, looking back and apologizing for being absentee to the emotional discord, the spiritual movement flexing inside a young bright star, young girl got screwed and screwed up, misjudged the guy, misjudged the timing, got drunk with her friends and got stupid. Lost alertness… lost a whole lot more. Even with the benevolence of the nurses, the nonjudgment, the suspension of judgment, the carrying out of reduction of harm. The understanding the psychology of trauma and loss and grief. The grounding the girl’s process in smiles and facts and exactness of protocol so as to provide a tight container of love or compassion for someone so young and asking for help, and still learning to love self through the madness of all the bad shit we do and see and have done to us over the years. Some to survive. Others to survive longer. And all of us to endure that steady certain suffering in whatever dose we can take, and then working to stem the tide with our pharmacies by our sides. Crutches are good for a while.

What kind of world could be more intriguing than this mystery mansion with its dead ends and distortions? We witness ourselves and one another, going through contortions.

a prayer. #archive 2015

i want only to live my life and let you go, please, may i have the courage to walk away and wish you well, healing and happiness and all the things cash cannot buy. no matter how many phone numbers are blocked, hurtful text messages deleted,  email addresses registered as spam; no matter how many doors i lock and photos i delete and letters i recycle, nothing changes unless i settle with myself. yes i am branded, yes i wear your imprint on my heart. and how can i regret, what with all the goodness you gave me before we fell out? those moments in love were unbelievable. i am incredulous, shocked, having lost you. years have passed and still you find a way to me. to hurt me some more with the painful rewriting of our history. please forgive me, but i must for my spirit and forever walk away from you. when i remember you, i promise to try and remember when you were the greatest. we were the best and for a second. no one will remember but us, the flash the spark we were and then were over. and now i say goodbye. and i love you.

2

rolling 2

several miles away from here the land and the towns have been flattened by fires in a week, even good Snoopy lost his doghouse. my problems got smaller overnight. i had to cover my bowl or else the cat might get into it. someone i don’t care for waved hello. i turned into a number and embraced the rolling 2. all my intentions came horrifically true, now i gotta face the world and do what i do. i am blessed to be needed and seen and write books. there’s light from the window discrediting our features. i will turn the blinds and show you some love. we can make it today, i know we can.

with. without you

what you were you were without adornment and adornment was nothing without you

when you left, you left your belongings behind. i thought you had forgotten them and gathered them up to return to you. there were drawings and jewelry and clothes and papers. what was missing was you. that’s when i realized these things, all this stuff, had no meaning without you. i left messages for you that you would never return. you go where you go and you take yourself with you. you would never return for your stuff. and without you it has no meaning, it can only be given away to someone in need. and we are left needing you. and i am left without you. and i miss you.