Windfall
I have no excuse for silence
so I wrote down a few of my thoughts
August
the month of
A gust, august, a ghost, a guest, a host, a home, a house
You asked me once
Would I die for love?
to answer you
I wrote my own obituary
In school they teach you
The first sentence must grab the reader
and so here it is-
“What else could we have done, we were only children?”
when I finished writing this line, I had aged ten years
Eugene
I got the fuck out of there
thank you and now
goodbye, adieu, adios, forever
even if I ever return, we won’t,
we won’t recognize each other
September to December of ‘08
I ran ‘till I was out of breath
I ran to the end of the year
California
Barely there but not all the way here
from everythingunderwater and grey rain
to
a sun, bone white, hung indifferently above interlacing strip malls
But the sun was a poem as well, it read
survivor’s guilt is the prize of those who survive
and if you walk out of the desert, you remember most the taste of water
January
some deceptions and fictions
you could tell I was a little off
but I was hoping you thought I killed a man with my bare hands
in an illegal cage fight
the only thing cooler than a jailhouse tat
is not going to jail
Blue period
a meaningless solution
not suitable for children or pregnant mothers
maybe too much porn
and dark ideas
Shall I live and not die
Shall I live and not die
Shall I live and not die
Shall I live and not die
I rode my motorcycle to Andy’s dad’s house
God bless you Ted Weber
you knew I needed to come home and so knew I needed first a home
Ashley, Idealism and the month of April (as if anything is ever ideal)
Have you ever seen an artist with grey hairs on his head?
you only think you did
Yeah, I could of sworn I saw it too
but as it turns out
it was just a clever ad for cigarettes
Thank you David Bazan
I owe you a coke
Shadows must dance, they have no words to give
but I am not a shadow yet (or at least, this is what they tell me)
they tell me- I have no excuse for silence
Napa, CA
I bought oranges at the produce stand you worked at
you got them for free
but I split what I bought with you anyway, anyways,
any
way
And you became
the heroine of an imaginary novel I am writing in my mind
A girl in love with the waters of the Puget Sound
“Nothing depresses me like summer, like California, like here.”
You want only a stove to set a teapot upon
But the girl, she hits what she aims at
Of course you’re spoiled dear
but where some are spoiled by sports cars, carpel tunnel popping the collar of their pink polo shirt
daddy bought business cards after college
married a model or became a trophy
there were others
who were spoiled by suffering
like fruit dropped by the wind
left on the grassy ground
uneaten
in the Eden’s garden that is this American century
You keep yourself in jars
these faded Polaroid days
glass jars
ones with metal lids screwed tight
It’s funny your mother said,
“Maybe you will find a boy who understands. . .”
but this. . . this will never work
this could never work
Of course you are an Aquarius
so your horoscope makes you immune
to my black claws
you read Free-will astrology in bed
and think it so scorpion of me to scrunch my face
and pick fights
and wail, and wail, and flail
against my own happy unhappiness
This: a destiny for people who do not believe in fate
Some mornings we are just normal for two people so strange
I want to be the redemption of Ted Huges
and I will not rest until every last vow is made a poem and the otherway around too
I will not rest until every last mosquito is dead
I am the re-birth of Birthday Letters
What I have is what I offer
What I offer is what I love
Until the end of the whole world
“World, what world?”
until the end of us, I mean
even when I remember only the desert
I promise you
I will do this better
I tell the bathroom mirror every morning
And when I remember only the desert
you remind me of water
with your wet lips
and pink mouth
in a silent way
and then I believe it again
with my heart again
You tell me
the heart that pumps blood is made for promises
and so it is the heart that grieves
and the heart that needs time to heal
just as the other half of black is white
This is a paradox
but it is true either way
those who suffer, love
those who love do not suffer
When I see Ashley after I have not seen her in a while
I think an apple picked from the limb by the wind
but rescued from an ignominious fate
by a gentle hand
It is not redemption
redemption takes a long time
but it could be the beginning of it
And when a fortune comes to those who are not looking for anything other than subsistence
it is called- a Windfall
Windfall is a beautiful, beautiful word
Windfall.
