The Prodigal Daughter

the reason that iron rusts
is due to ionization
water
iron
and
oxygen
collaborating to corrode
until eventually the iron is gone
this will only happen
in iron and alloys of iron
it does take time
and gentle disintegration
a relationship built on
water
mixed
with iron
and set to dry
leads to inevitable destruction

Q: so why even put them together?

it happens at times
on accident
a bicycle getting left out in the rain
multiple times over a period of years
tends to gather rust

other times neglect is the source
of the rust
a railroad tie on a discontinued line
left over many years untraveled
parts of which are made of steel, an alloy of iron
will rust

Q: and how is this relevant to us?

our relationship can be likened to
the occurrence of rust
(a gentle disintegration)
but we are not rust out of neglect
or out of an accident
but rather we are rust
because it is inherent in our
nature to do so together

she told me
that she was trying to meet
as many people as she could
without leaving the house

Q: how are you going to accomplish this?

she smiled and showed me her laptop
it had stickers on it
we had met at the local library
before she had obtained this
sleek piece of machinery

she said that she no longer
needed the outside world
just the one that was in here
she touched her hand to the keys

Q: what about the mystery of the great outdoors?

at this she made a half smile
and looked to me and then to the machine
she told me that it was no longer
a mystery that everything we had
ever known
or will ever know
is inside this device

her eyes glazed over at this instant
and she fell to the floor
her body gripped in the throes of
a terrible seizure jerking and moving
arms and legs and torso
moving as if they were not connected to a whole

and this is when i knew
that this was not real
and that i was asleep
and all i had to do
was wake up

He traced the airplane line
With his finger
The expulsion from the jet
Engine cutting through
The cloudless sky and he would
Lie on his back for hours to do this
In the cool grass

On a trip he was inside a plane

He was going across the ocean
Closing his eyes
He recalled what he would
Do in the cool grass
When the plane was going down
Into the ocean between destinations

When the plane skimmed at
The surface of the briny deep
He was half asleep in the
Calm memory of the cool grass

The snow compressing
Underneath her feet was
Her favorite sound
Steps were made
Pausing in between each
Each foot compacting
The white underneath

Winter walking lent itself to a discovery

Her foot could have crushed
A bird after a cat attack
Displayed stark against
The blank snow

This she scooped
In her hand to bury it
And after she did not
So much relish the snow

She was afraid of the
Clown at the birthday of
Chris Jenkins the day he turned 8
The infinate primary colors
Being vomited out of
The red scarf mouth

Later at 15 she had a reocurring dream

Clown teeth falling from
the paint smile
the gums flushing out
primary colors

A few time she was the clown
But she could never make
Anything but dark red
flush from her gums

on the surface
my control can
contort my face into a smile
or an unimpressed blank
	
the silent river is raging beneath
and is gorging over its' edges
taking down ancient root systems
void of fish
the current too strong
for anything but itself
	
it is moving through the body
and taking anything it can
with it in its' wake
the silent river
has no ocean to flow into
but these pixels
that form into characters
and those into
the words of this language

i have a picture of us
we are ________ lovers
we are ________ friends
we are ________ family
	
here (the blank above) you would fill
the emotion filling
our faces in this picture
this polaroid snap shot
in my head
instant photography
warped and bent
and colored in
that way only a polaroid
and not any other form
of processing can produce
it's a little muted
and washed in nostalgic glow
	
i have a memory of us
we are ________ lovers
we are ________ friends
we are ________ family
	
here (in the blank above) you would fill
the emotion filling
our hearts in this memory
this is a corrupted file
in my computer brain
part of it remains
but the real momement is
warped and bent
and slightly unreadable
only the original
coding remains in this file
	
i have these as evidence
i hold them in my character
very close to and sometimes
underneath my skin
at times these incriminating
photos
and
files
betray the control
that i appear to have

she told me to stop writing fuck you poetry
and maybe to focus on the world
i shrugged
and said
inside my head:

the world needs me to go
tell it to fuck itself
for me to feel
free from it

the pigeons circle and loop
around the city park
on a late december afternoon
swooping in tight arcs
terrorizing the tourists
who run to duck and cover
this is their park
they even have an
old asian man to feed them

we slump on our bench together
the one i picked out
last spring on the corner
of the inner circle
and we gaze at this flight pattern
planned to dive bomb
anyone in their way

i want to tell you how nice
it feels to finally be free
in a way i haven’t been since
i moved to the desert
in the first place

all of these items are so
personal and i can’t even
wirte objectively
i’m not in that place
but i will be again soon

which is why i need this now
to tell the world to fuck itself
like the pigeons in the park

img title: Queen, 1968, Paris. Jean Muir - Helmut Newton via sunday morning which is a cool blog despite the morrisey reference.

when i finally
tell you to go
fuck yourself
it will be a result
of self preservation
and one too many
silent forgiving moments
b/c
you know a person
can only
take so fucking much

there are these terrible people i know
posing as friends
posing as lovers

a gambler
who would make a bet
on anything as long as
he knew he could win
he stands dirty
in his filthy rich clothes
breath reeking of alcohol
begging to bet you

a jilted lover
she is the woman in moon
orbiting the planets
with a flawed surface
a story to arouse
jealousy and suspicion
is her message to you

a jealous lover
believing anything
the person above throws
out at him
blue eyes narrow the
more that this scene
continues in front of you

multiple cowards
all for their own reasons
who can’t let go
who won’t let go
who fear what could or can not be
comfort obliterating
their bravery to the
point of retracting like
man children from you

a know it all
a high voice shreiking
over analytical nonsense
but she doesn’t even know
how much no one
in the room can
even stand her enough to talk to
so a focus of her energy
lies on you

an over apologetic man
trying to speak
to a friend who refuses
to have a thing to
do with him as she
screams at him that
he is a replica of
a focus of her hatred
none of which has to do
with you

oh this scene!

i would have kissed you on the roof
in the unusual warm december air
placed my arm around your shoulders
slinging you into me
if i had not known that i am one
of these terrible people