Neues Museum Berlin

I’m afraid of him.

So I dream of kissing women

While he kisses me in my sleep.

I’m afraid I can only get hard in the kitchen

Or in the living room.

The light goes off and

I turn it back on.

The bed is for sleep- the

Bed is a serious place

I do not

Perform well this month.

Time starts in England,

And ends up as fragile as piss

Damp toilet paper off the island

Of Samoa.

no one likes sending a lover a love letter- to which there is no reply.

A Turner

Babe I find your affections counter intuitive. Let’s talk. I will be at the café below my house tomorrow at ten twenty- ish having coffee. If you can make yourself available please join.  I don’t like not knowing us.  I’ll be alone.

There are peoples hands you are suppose to hold.

I held the hand of a dancer, a lawyer, a republican,

an architect, a cook, a doctor, a med student, a photographer, another photographer, a stylist, an intellectual young man, a friend of my brother’s, an engineer, a Portuguese speaking American about 6’5, a musical theater guy, another tortured intellectual this one an Arab Jew, 3 Poly Sci majors, a child psychologist.

Merton’s Law “ When something is perceived as real, it often becomes real.”

1)   1Curio Parlor with Tess – Trendy Dancing.

2)   2Explored Modern art Museum.

3)   3Oberkaumpf  Bars with Dom

4)   4Dancing at Cud

5)   5Saw Buenos Aeries Boy- felt oddly connected to him- chatted and had drinks.

6)   6Slept over at Buenos Aeries Boy’s house. (kisses)

7)   7Explored vintage flea market avec D and J.

8)   8Made out with Rhoman in the 1^st- Beautiful walk- boring convo.

9)   9Had beautiful lunch with D and J

1                 10 Morning after sleepover at Buenos Aeries House I ran through the streets of the Marias for no real reason. The glorious spectacle of life. My own spectacle.

And I guess somethings just can not be said. 

And maybe moments are lost within the 'encoding'

of emails, phones and texts- leaving the decoder

with a handful of electronics- broken grammar- and 

a couple rare fine lines. 

'what did I want to tell him?' I ask myself every time 

we hang up.

'what did I want to say?' is the eternal longing of a boy in love.

What did I want to say? That you are the genius. 

That you are the one with words. That this anniversary doesn't 

mark a date- rather it dances to the music of a story. 

 That lately I have been running to teach myself something;

what that something is- I do not know. That in my attempting 

to be pure I worry I am doing it out of guilt. Guilt for what?- I'm not sure- or maybe I do not want to admit it. 

I wonder 'what does he want to tell me?'

I wonder about how much effort it takes.

I think of lighter things- I wonder if one can eat too many blue berries?

I wonder why the waves are bigger in the ocean this year- in comparison 

to any other year. 

I wonder why people let me bite them. I wonder why people don't bite back.

I think of Paris- then spend the same amount of energy trying to submerge 

it back into the magical abyss it manifested from. I take cautions in submerging

memories- I try my best to conserve the magic. Protect the magic for my next adventure. 

reminding myself that magic is work too, after all it is a magician's trick. 

You say "the child is born- the next chapters are the education"

The smart things you say- feel like your fingers running through my hair. 

I wonder what he has to say. 

Adolf Von Menzel

We are just friends.

 I cannot sleep over because it might look bad.

How fine is the line?

The truth of the matter is

 people do take me more seriously

When I wear fake glasses.

I see

Newly trained hands-

Political science hands.

But I think of

Cobble stone wetness

Cigarette smoke

Scarves of black-

Floral musks

I take confidence that

 Our thoughts are

 Dancing outside on

 The grey chilled street where

The skinny intelligencia

Relate stories, economics

And love affairs.

A Paris education.

Madame de Pompadour will be postponing her visit to the United States- she is waiting for the politics to lighten up.

At my father’s house I cannot sleep.

I avoid becoming full.

I eat frozen blue berries with honey.

I study French.

I ride my bike to the beach.

I fold Japanese Kimonos at a textile museum.

I visit the town’s coffee shop daily.

I look at my stomach in the mirror.

I make friends with the prettiest palm tress.

I don’t drink.

I try to scare myself.

I talk to my mentor she tells the Mexican President came to her Party

She had two body guards  and a Spanish translating make-up artist.

I talk to myself

About my husband-

About  dirty subways

I talk to myself about

Succeeding and Failing

I conclude failing is not an option

I can always move onto a boat

And have friends over.

I’ll roast baby potatoes- rosemary.

Typical beautiful things like that.

So bring on cold weather

Bring on the apocalypse. 

Little bags of peanuts while you wait-

Women in Baby Blue-I’m back in America.

Assimilation anxiety

Touch your toes in the

Washroom- smell the blue.

Tomato juice.

Hold tight while you wait to get off.

Nachos? Quick Beer?  

Facades of the olden days-

Facades of a village-

Facades of a what it could look like.

Four toddlers all wearing the same Nike jump suits.

Oysters- House, Humble of course- expensive wine though- lots of paint- lots of veggies, friends-

- early mornings-breads, oaty breads- coffee- one more coffee- black nights-

sand- quick flights to the desert- You find a skeleton of a whale on the beach then we paint it black- back to the city- rush rush - inhales- crazy inhales- crazy people talking a lot- I fall and scrape my knee it feels kinda good- but I don't need to be reminded I am living cause I know you.  

The old man on the train has girly eyelashes.

Sadder than the German Burden

More Serious than a Flag

At Night

 At night I treasure

His whiskers scratching my sheets

Upon calm Inhales

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a message in a bottle. 

Burns in Fashion

Burn in Florida Swamps

Burns- Are you in Love with Them?