Jul 28


actual fact invades my imaginations with flamethrowers, hurling blazing spheres of realization.
if this is what being an adult is, i am inclined to spend all of my life with threeyearolds
to avoid maturity

but apparently i am already mature. everyone tells me this and they say it 
like it is a great thing, like they admire me for it which i don't understand.
when i am trying to be mature i am never saying what i am thinking and i do not laugh
and i do not wear silly wigs or speak in silly accents
and i avoid children, who are my favorite people of all.

and apparently i am good at trying to be mature because people are fooled and nobody can
uncover who i am because i am such a grownup

but i'm not a grownup, i'm so so scared of spiders and i really like lollipops and i fall in love daily because one person
Jul 28

for granted

i fully acknowledge the dependence of my feet on the ground.
i cannot stand without something to stand on and i haven't learned to fly,
so i must put my weight on the grass and it will yield to my toes because it understands that if
i could fly i would not be walking and that if i didn't need to move i would be dead

but i do need to move, i have not always needed to move but now i need to dance on the ground.
i need the ground to support my dancing.
i depend on the ground and the grass and the bugs that allow me to be here.

( #summerofstories16 )
Jul 28

last leg

he pounds his fist on the little house and narrates nostalgia: car accident, suicide, cancer, car accident, etc.
he says "now we must not only memorialize the people memorialized here but also their memorials."
gestures to the falling down structures. gestures to the trees.
"planted for harvesting." it won't last because the sun can't
trickle down to the forest floor
so the little trees don't grow. the old trees don't look old, never grew big, all the same height,
but still they are old and almost gone. i think sometimes that this place
will come to a poetic end but then i realize that probably the trees will not fall when i expect them to fall
and people will not die when i expect them to die and the houses
will be gone long before i have a reason to build one. this place was not made for me, i am
enjoying the last leg of its journey

( #summerofstories16 )
Jul 28


the feet of dead chickens are very very soft. i suppose
they are probably soft when they are alive too but i've never touched the feet
of a live chicken so i don't know. 
the feet of dead chickens are very very soft but the convulsions of dying chickens are not
soft at all, they are hard and hard to watch.

you can bend the necks of living chickens all the way backwards and you should because
it will make their last moments blurred and
maybe they won't understand when you
slice the necks of living chickens open and turn them into the necks of dying chickens.
when they have become the necks of dead chickens they dangle
like wind chimes

( #summerofstories16 )
Jul 27


we can go shopping. we can go to the store and look
at shelf after shelf of lovely thing and wonder
what we will buy.

there will be little baskets of validation, wrapped up in that
crinkly thin plastic that makes static sounds and makes everything inside of it colored.
you can have green or pink or purple because it's leftover from easter baskets.

( #summerofstories16 )
Jul 25

treasure hunt

a failure to depart 
due to a lack of direction
is a common phenomenon.

how do i go anywhere if i don't know how to go somewhere?

i am supposed to be finding myself, like life is a treasure hunt, but
i cannot find any clues so i am not sure if the fragments of person
that i am finding
are really part of who i am searching for. i am stumbling clumsily
through the world and tossing bits and pieces into myself and
unknowingly losing just as many along the way because i cannot be
everything and i cannot be more
than i am

i have no map and no clues and no directions. i am going somewhere different but i'm not sure
i have succeeded in leaving the place where i do not want to be.

( #summerofstories16 )
Jul 22


1. why don't i forget you? i hear your breathing
in the grass and i see your hands
in the clouds and i feel your hair
in the dirt and i cannot forget you because i am so connected
to the world and the world is so connected to you

2. why don't i remember you? your face is fogged over in my mind,
for some reason i cannot picture you and i don't understan that. i studied your face
with a passion for so long and i can't believe i don't have it memorized.

3. why don't i fit with you?
you are music, your being is a melody
and i tried to harmonize but i don't understand your chord structure

( #summerofstories16 )
Jul 22

lying down

it is 3 in the morning. the highway is quiet and the noisy parties have dwindled. my body has reached a comfortable tempurature. i fell asleep with th eknowledge that the screen across my doorway and my morally irresponsible use of toxic bug spray will repel any terrors of the insect world. so my subconcious is relatively confident that my fear of bugs sneaking into my facial orifices is indeed mostly irrational and ridiculous. therefore, i am dreaming of cheese, baby kangaroos, teddy bears, peanut m&ms, and everything else that is good in the world. my sleep is peaceful.

( #summerofstories16 )
Jul 22

wasn't it enough?

i tried to love you the way you needed me to.
i said out loud so many times that i do love you and i
hugged you and i made you gifts and i listened to you and i
obeyed you and i worshipped you and i believed you and i 
bent myself into a puppet and handed you my strings and every time
i put on a show, the audience applauded you

wasn't it enough?

i want to try harder but i also want to give up and both are
impossible. i cannot maintain any relationship all alone except my relationship with myself
which you cannot be part of.

i cannot give up because i love you too much.

it took me a long time to realize that i do love you and can love you and am not bad at loving you.

the way you wanted me
to treat you was not with love but with
adoration and unconditional respect.
both are things i cannot and will not deliver to anyone.
Jul 22

even you should know

i am a child.
you can think of me as an adult as much as you want but i am
a child and i will be
a child for a long time still because i have to fight so hard
to be
a child.

yes i can keep myself alive with little help but this doesn't mean i know how to take care of myself.

i don't know how to take care of myself yet, perhaps because i cannot find
an example of someone caring for me in the way that i need(ed)

it might be too late because i'm becoming too old to depend on others for my health but
i never was able to do that so i don't know how to depend on myself

( #summerofstories16 )