River's blog

i am living on nothing but a two-dimensional plane
covered all over with three-dimensional objects.
if, and only if, the distance between two objects is two-
dimensional, there is a substantial possiblility that they can
touch.

no, that is not quite right— i am living among three-dimensional objects
connected by various and three-dimensionally offset two-dimensional planes.
that is, when the connection or potential connection between two objects is strong or particularly significant, a two-dimensional plane becomes apparent,
on which they both rest.
contact becomes a possibility.

you and i, see, we were sitting there in space and time and there was a plane spanning a two-dimensional stretch of the cosmos just for us to
touch
across.

the problem,  the problem is or was that if you live your life on single planes existing for the purpose of single connections you stop living on the plane upon which all three-dimensional objects are
naturally situated. simply put,
you have no ground to stand on.

the problem, the problem is that we are
three-dimensional and there is more depth to you than i even have the
right to understand.

what if, what if we're living on a three-dimensional plane, then, and the problem is not that no plane connects us, not that we are at an odd angle, but that in the
breaking down of our treasured two-dimensional meeting place, we got offset four-dimensionally,
and as three-dimensional creatures that cannot willingly travel four-dimensionally we will never
touch
again?

i am waiting for you.
i need, i need someone and maybe you to touch my shoulder
in a strictly non-patronizing but kind way and tell me that i worry too much. Read more »

the things that cross your eyelids [when you shut 'em

tight an' squeeze 'em hard] i used to think were little

signposts, lil' scrap notes from God.

when i was seven years old, i prayed near every night.

eventually it took too much time and i wasn't seeing no difference, so i only

prayed at

Christmas.

these days and more'n half my life later, i laugh in God's face & i laugh at karma too, because i know

i ain't done no wrong.

mama they took

my ponderosity an' they put it in a safe with locks an' all.

daddy logic ain't enough

for all the traps.

you can't dodge everything by bein' smart, or fast.

i was hopin' if i did everything i was told

everything would go alright.

now they closin' in.

now it's a big gorram mess.

i ain't done no wrong.

honey you

went off and gave me another an' now there are more

things than i should rightfully have to choose from.

everybody's so gorram mad an' here i am in the middle of it all,

where i never wanted to be.

honey, maybe you have regrets, now, but i never hurt you.

mama, daddy, i never hurt you.

i ain't hurt nobody.

i ain't done no wrong.

the spring and the winter, now, they make war when they should be makin' love.

the water an' the ice, the salt all odd colors stingin' all our feet.

the road is a river, the road is a river

fishes come to play at my doorstep an' i watch 'em quiver and starve for air.

half the yelling in this house seems to be about me. Read more »

She'd always hated the wind.

It was so pushy, so bossy, oblivious. It blew at her no matter which way she wanted to go, tugged at her clothes and hair, howled at her from far places and carried smells she'd sometimes rather forget. It thought it could force her to go certain places, and she hated things that assumed to have power.

Now, it whistled through the canyon, tauntingly, she thought, grabbing at trees and grass on its joyride. Its rough hands caught at anything it passed like a child gallumping through a park, stamping on ants and bashing any tree branch small enough. It echoed noisily, almost as if some raging beast danced madly below. She shivered.

Idiot.

His words floated back to her, clean and crisp as his shirts and sharp as his eyes. She remembered the rain, and the concrete, and chain-link fences and someone yanking out her eyebrow-ring. She remembered how the blood had poured into her eye and only tears had poured out. She remembered curling into a ball on the sidewalk, alone, as the downpour started. She remembered seeing the buisnessman, face hidden by an umbrella and hand carrying a second one, and she remembered asking him to borrow it. She hadn't expected to peer under the rim and see him.

Idiot. I'd have kept you, you know. You'd be warm and dry and safe right now. She had started to cry again and turned away, trying to disengage, but he was coming forward now. Your head's bleeding. Didn't I tell you you'd get into trouble? This is God, you know. God is raining on you.

God hates you. God hates you. God hates you. Read more »

little boy blue where are you

running running running to

little boy blue, was there too much

peace

at stake

for you

little boy blue you're a big boy big boy now

blue is never your favorite

flavor now

little boy blue there was a me and a you

and maybe there was more blue

than true

at the end of the blueblue

line, but

little boy blue, this game is full of circles

trying to make the blueblueline neverend

(maybe we just fell off

maybe we just slipped for a

bit)

little boy blue when are you through

running running running from

what you want

little boy blue, all i want to do

is tell you how happy i saw i made you

it's not a perfect plan, it's true

but the days since the me and the you

were blueblueblue

little boy blue this is nothing new

this is only

strange

(but not unlike you)

little boy blue what are you

wanting wanting wanting from

me

little boy blue, we didn't

work together like pieces from the same machine but we were like

a makeshift collection of reused

gears and levers and we

worked,

little boy blue, we worked.

little boy blue how are you

hello hello it's me i know you know

this

could be something new, you

know, i made a mountain out of lies but they were all

the little white kind

and yours were rare as tigers but they were Read more »

if the i within i could go beyong going;

if the eye which i cry with could spy beyond showing,

could i, i, and we—notice paper shards—snowing;

a way from withinness & a clearnessclearness growing—

if a you still in i was a sigh beyond wishing,

more than fumbling for the lightswtich like a blind man fishing;

just a hair beyond a lost coin/fountains into/splishing—

could i keep you from slipping through—fraught fingers—swishing—

if a someone in a someday saw some trace remaining;

through somethings & sometimes & riots & raining—

some happitude outlasting time's puzzling & paining

—if some distance found some of our lives worth retaining,

could i find out the answers locked up in your locket?

could i figure the figures & launch all our rockets?

find dignity someplace & we both (& us applauded)—

tear reason from instinct & see straight from the sockets?

or might i find all life's truths on a note in my pocket,

having been there all—along, & i'd only

                   —forgot it?

i.

i have a friend who is depressed. 

he lives alone, completely alone, totally alone.

i would have told him that i knew how he felt but he would have told me that no, i didn't.

and he would have been right.

my metaphorical, mental, purely psychological loneliness will never be the same.

with a family home nights, i have never known real silence.

still i'd rather be out, outside this house and this town in an apartment that's empty except for the one person willing to share it with me

someone who does not overanalyze or advise but can simply say

"you did a good job

living

today."

ii.

i cannot be depressed. i have been, but not these days.

i've considered it. i can be humiliated, furious, grieved, apathetic, heartbroken, and even

purposeless, but i cannot feel hopeless. it's because of this damn

world, this universe that's so damn big.

there is so

much

happening

right now that i cannot feel truly trapped.

i am like a child, seeing infinity, seeing possibbility everywhere,

unable and unwilling to deny myself wonder.

iii.

still, i wonder when i'll be "done."

schedules herd me here and there.

i have to learn now, i have to do a good job and don't mess up and don't make a mess and don't get in trouble and don't

disappear.

i have college to think of. a career.

"later" is my mantra. after high school, i'll travel.

okay, after college.

after graduate school — god dammit Read more »

You can’t imagine

the scraping.

the grit that comes and goes, wind that blows feet forward and forward,

the stilettos prodding, boots blunt, bare feet padding.

i am carved into destinations. the indents in the center lines of my concrete

branch visibly to doors and crossings. i try to form little welcome mats but they are too

subtle, i guess, to be noticed.

the constant erosion is like breath along my surfaces.

i am glad that no one pays attention to the laws against bicycling on the sidewalks—

i like the deep, firm softness of their tires,

the casual flick of a foot catching balance.

  Read more »

The dull ache drawing itself out of too much caffeine

is an offering, really,

head down, arms out, palms up

feet set in stone (almost like

an intention)

I've never quite understood the difference

between psychology and poetry—

all witty metaphors,

emotional conjecture, latin or

secretly symbolic names for things we otherwise understand.

The headache

works its way from my skull down my throat,

swelling to my stomach and sinking into my hips.

I worry too much about the fact that I worry

so little. My life

is so heavy with carefreedom

as to bow me down.

Our neighborhood is a quiet one, but

occasionally drunk and/or high delinquents

stumble out of the woods,

laughing, semiconscious, high-pitched, praying to themselves.

I never found a sin

so enjoyable that it might not

be able to leave me—

through the mouth and ears, perhaps;

no sin so dear I couldn't

allow its escape, eventual or otherwise.

The more painful withdrawals

were legal and innocent—

love, sugar, unconditional joy.

Even laughter is a weapon

when you're feeling leftalone,

metal teeth and edges applicable to any surface (at

all).

My questionable depression

is in no way morally obtrusive;

my demotivation quietly uncalled for.

The worst pain is not caused.

It is.

It ebbs and swells, but does not jump  at the click of a trigger.

Nothing happens— happenings change. Read more »

(i want to be pulled

in several directions by

someone unafraid.)

at some point the strings attached to all my joints—

frayed away and the

wooden beams above me are chipping and rotting.

i wanted, i 

wanted, but i never wanted to want

until i wanted nothing else.

  Read more »

there were lights fading around the edge of a hand the last time it touched me. by the time it had drawn away, all the lights were

gone, gone.

there was sunlight, later on, streaming through the cracks between fingers & eyelashes & a voice crying for spare change, eyes shaded from the harsh angle with a scarf, & i was going to turn out my pockets but the hills were pulling,

pulling on the day. a red glint

stayed on the horizon for a long time after, though, Read more »