last august, this august, and every august after

August with your sky that's warm and your constant saturation, I will always love you 
and the way you play with my hair, tossing it in the wispy wind, painting it with sea salt.

henry & june [a front cover]

i wonder if his youth makes his views unrealistic. he doesn't yet know. i hope the universe spares him. or, maybe he'll be stronger than us all, better than us all.

you and i

noun conjunction noun

just syntax,
no semantics.

all sentences have a truth factor.

ours have just been lacking in it.

this & that: a look at semantics.

hey universe,

i get it, that you're busy doing all of THIS (insert the changing patterns and coastlines; the difficult goodbyes; the moments i think i'm forgetting you; the feelings of loss, lust, and lingering all at once; and, the secrets unraveling into the meaning of this word that holds just. so. god. damn. much.).


but, could you do a little more of THAT (just, simply, Love), please.

with gratitude,
and the truest intentions,
L.

off we go....

to be swept away by the brilliance that is my (our) own life (lives)

a girl named klara.

... and this is why we travel... and these are the questions we hear...


"don't we meet everyone in life twice?"

"do you feel lucky? are you happy?"


....thank you.

the syntax of you loving me:

when you tell me that you love me,
i know that i'm your direct object
your argument for existence,
the object of your affection

i know that i'm your complement
branching from your love,
closer to you than most

i know that i'm beside you always
nothing can come in between (us).

topping the charts.

we discuss the importance of the song
being able to sit and just listen
appreciating each others' melodies
loving each others' realities
and dream worlds
and past lives
and the contents of
each others' pockets.

let it be, let it be.

let's leave it.
let's just remember denpasar departures.
let's let that be enough (for now).

reality checks:

..."but i'm good at it"...

...."good at relationships? or good at staying in relationships?"....

i'm scared of falling in love (without you).

shhhh...

i didn't really want to talk anymore. the words had all been used up, put into sentences and phrases in the same ways over and over and over again. even this has been said before. so i just wanted silence. i wanted a period of nothingness. a moment of just listening to the world spinning on. we'll find the right words one day and say them in the right ways. or, we'll just fill this silence with something else -- greatness, happiness, love.

now,
shhhh.....

a study session with love:

linguistic analysis

"heartbreak"

belonging to two lexemes: heart & break.
compounding: putting two words (that shouldn't be together) together.

the drifters, the dreamers

we (you and you and you and me),
we're g(l)o(w)ing.

xx

willows beach

you and i under september's sun.
indian summer. endless summer.
oldest heart strings.
i remember us at 3, at 4.
and now, even still, the universe pairs us together.
i make you laugh.
you make things familiar.
we are years and years deep.

i cherish this,
the oldest two still standing.

balcony writings:

I AM SELFISHLY AND SELFLESSLY DEVOTED TO MY LIFE

your alphabet

your alphabet
without vowels
is a lonely place to be
no u,
no i,
no we.

letters written abroad (to the girls who mean most)

hey girl,
with your ocean eyes, world eyes,
you choose what you see,
you pick what you take in.
forgo the loveless bedrooms,
set your sights on something higher.
look into the writer’s soul,
let him translate you into prose.

dear yoga

dear yoga,
i only want to spread my legs for surf gods,
modern-day poseidons.

may

i want to tell you the stories of my travels in freckles — connect the dots into constellations and the paths i took to get from here to there.

i want to show you what i saw through a kaleidoscope — a world mixed up in beauty and fragmented, intoxicated memories.

excerpts from a balinese journal

These are the only decisions I want to make for the rest of my life:
Where to lie
Whom to love
What music to play

Life Felt So Heavy Before Here.

poppies II

the clouds have swallowed the sun. this is my favourite type of day, when the heat settles and the air isn’t so sticky. of course, this is a rarity, this afternoon haze, so we take advantage of it — reading by the pool, napping under the fan, chasing deals in the streets…

everything else is past tense. i am present.

“if one jumps over the edge, one is bound to land somewhere” - d.h. lawrence

today reminded me of this:

“my people were fair

and had sky in their hair

but now they’re

content to wear stars”

may 2011.

Both day and time have escaped me. As usual, I packed too much and want to rid myself of all possessions. All I want are constant sun and sea. Our first night here we met the boys. Ty, Klara, and Tom followed. And, then, Shayne. It’s too early to tell where everything (with us) is at. We just are.

The Sandat is as I remember it to be — a Garden of Eden. This time, Canadians fill the rooms instead of the Swedish Girls. People come and go — a surfer here, an Australian there, a lover near, a lost love there.

We woke with the sun today, hopped on the the back of the boys’ motorbikes, and headed to Belangan. The tide inched in slowly, teasing our toes, as Sarah and I drowned in sunlight. The drive from Kuta was hectic, as always, a tidal wave of flashing metal machines. But, the road to Belangan was surrounded by everything lush and real. Balinese Life. “Welcome to My Paradise”

I try not to be too lazy here, but the heat is a warm blanket you can’t help but curl up in. Sarah’s already sleeping beside me.

With Gratitude,

L.

the skin we live in [magazine words become poetry]

the gradual
realization of what exactly bonds us:
reading in bed,
practicing yoga,
seagulls,
history mounted on his bedroom walls.

he said:
"she's gorgeous for her free-spirited promiscuity. exquisitely pretty, the kind of pretty that only gets prettier upon closer inspection of her tiny, pale face with large green eyes, set wide apart".

she said:
"i met a boy there. i fell in love. i still can't believe he exists"

this is the story of two young lovers.

laureli del mar *

gosh, gosh, gosh i miss the summer sunshine <3

plan a new life --
disappear.
plan a new life --
disappear.
plan a new life --
appear.

estella and ingrid.

and you wonder why you are so drawn
to the oleander and the poetry and the tools of intoxication

right,
ingrid?

the whole of me
and the holes in you(r heart).

i just slip right through,
the whole into the hole,
into the devastation
into the fascination.

and where were you last night?

there's something about your tits in the morning,
perched on the windowsill,
while you drink your tea (cream & sugar),
that makes me want to
scramble eggs with you forever.

w(hole).

you can put mountains
and highways
and lakes
and rivers
and roads between us

but it still manages to
swim
and stir
and swallow me whole.

11:24 pm

let's make this distance physical too
a country, an ocean, and opposite skies
(i'll take the sun, you can have the moon)

'we want to feel love'

my bed
your bed
his bed
our bed
shared bed
all-alone bed

(sleep comes,

in the bed
where his hands
and your hands
moved from here
to here
to there
to my heart
to my mind
across my body
into my soul)

your hair's still on my pillow.

a hallelujah song

i was reading about, thinking about, dreaming about the traveler -- the beautiful one, the forever one, the almost-within-my-reach one. fierce, flawless. wise, willing. lost, found. my pages filled with directions (the paths unknown), my walls filled with maps (to the sea, to the shore), and life's eternal mysteries sprawled out in broken metaphors, and someone else's phrases, and my own interpretations. leaving is easier than staying, staying is harder than going, and my back pocket doesn't mind carrying the weight of a life of yesterdays while i go everywhere and anywhere to know myself and open myself and love myself. this fills me, fuels me, and forgives me in a way a lover never could. i replace pronouns (personals) with places -- he with the spot by the sea, she with the Rhine River, we with love inside a Brazilian bar. and, i indugle in the sway of a city, the pause between traffic lights, and the sun that paints me golden. i want the world to place her hands all over me, i want to seduce the Atlantic, the Pacific, the Mediterranean Sea, teasing tides and chasing waves. i want to climb into salty bedsheets, and kiss the moon, and romance the stars, and know why i'm here and happy and heartbroken and blown away and better off and begging for more. there's nothing else to call this but love.

'wh' questions [acquired between the ages of 2 & 4, accentuated at 22]

what do you want
and where are you going
and who do you want
and who do you love
and how will you know it
and how will you show it
and what will you say
and how will you say it
and where/when will you leave it all behind
and, then, start it back up again

lists.

a writer

a lover

a mother

a traveler 

an explorer

an artist

a friend

a reason.

eat, pray, love:

"both of us deserve better than staying together because we're afraid we'll be destroyed if we don't"

dear 49th parallel,
thank you so, so, so much
for FINALLY
letting me cross you

once upon a time, trey put me in a magazine.

www.seelike.me

august.

sunlight is flooding through the streets,

the August heat is striking, but perhaps not so much as her eyes.

we cross a bridge as the sun is going down.
it's just before dusk,

we're making small talk,

she's pushing hair out of her eyes.

she turns and looks across the sea
"it's so beautiful. i mean, how lucky are we."

woven of dreams and anagrams

one big run-on sentence
seas singing songs
and waves working out words
-- this is living

no hooks cast, no anchors dropped
just me and the sea
(and a place for we)

july.

oh,
let's not talking about july
or the drifting of our eyes.

june.

oh june,
you share your name with her (and him and them)
and so,
when you are smiling at me
it's nothing i haven't seen before
[you only have fuller lips]

i see in you
what was (is) me --
the part of you
that is reckless

through a lens, darkly
you are events unfolding
you are history repeating itself,
a future recurring dream

sharing in something
that isn't really love
we are a part of the same madness
[we seek the same phrases]

the drifter.

you left me with only vowels
just u and i
with nothing in between

just u and i
parts of the alphabet
with nothing to grab onto

no dangling modifiers
to stretch out their limbs
not even a preposition
to bring us together

i wanted to give you words like love and hold me
but you didn't want my fragmented phrases

'we are broken metaphors, heavy with bad grammar'
(was all you had to say)

all i ever asked for was a subject and a verb.

you are now a poem
i've put you in writing
you exist, you exist!
(on this page, in my mind, in my heart, in my world)

how will i dress you up?
an adjective here,
a hyperbole there?
no.
you don't need exaggerations,
you just simply are.

your end of august.

changing seasons, changing tides, changing hearts.

autumn.

Night is falling.
The bruised sky extends,
grabbing summer light.
Her voice is soft,
she's early.

giving thanks.

blessed be
blessed we
blessed me

playing house.

"i don't plan on settling for anything less than my kind of perfect" - francesca

distance

you and i
are sitting on opposite sides of this place (the world)
i can count the hours
and the minutes
between us

but it's more than that.

wanderlust-ing.

what are you doing this year? more importantly, who are you doing it with? there's a bunch of pronouns floating outside my door, becoming their very own sea of letters. lawrence's thoughts begin to mingle with them. e.e. cummings tells them to throw away their question marks. all of a sudden, we are an ocean of 'romaniticism'. i smell stardust. i see clouds.

untitled.

so this is what losing vision(s) is like.

the ocean, the ocean, the ocean and i,
we don't have time
for your tidal wave(s) of insecurity,
your tide pool(s) of tears,

you need new words
you need new ways
'cause i'm out to sea
and you're in the distance
and i'll be just fine.

summer's child.

pale child of summer,
missing summer sun,
but mostly, the light.

truths become folded into pockets,
tucked under blankets,
lost in the dark days,
hushed by rainfall.

no more love letters,
just debates with a map,
which route to take,
which sea to fall into
(catch me).

dreamers.

moon walkers,

star chasers,

cloud drifters,

foreign misters,

northern narine,

eastern elle,

southern seas,

western swells,

border dancers,

land seekers,

ocean lovers,

heart keepers,

don't you go passing (me) by.

thoughts on a motorbike (indonesia)

calm, shimmering colors.
and then -- to shore!
rolling in like a tidal wave, a sea of motors and hearts

-- somewhere we're lost in it all.

balinese beauty.

adjectives can't describe it
verbs won't provoke it
thoughts won't threaten it

cuz we are the girls with the alabaster skin
the yet-to-be wanderers

your not-so-love-poems
don't spin us 'round

we will be the ones to leave you
(with heavy hearts).

the day was unusual (peculiar even).
the words were unfamiliar,
with a new set of vowels
     u
        i
           y?

a foreign affair

CIRCLE, SPHERE, WORLD
YOUR 360 DEGREES
AND MY 21 YEARS
COULD BE SO DREAMY

love is an affair.

fondly,

i think of the moments that

i pulled your hair and

tattooed myself into your bed sheets.

a series of un(fortunate) events.

i woke up,

spit you out,

washed you off,

and wondered --

-- where the fuck is all the devastation?

accidents happen

your own tragedy just brought down the moon.

it landed in the ocean.

you are on the pavement.

and they just continued on,

like they didn't even miss the stars.

too many blogs under too many accounts

bringing it all back into one

oceans-always.blogspot.com is back home.


*a storage space for rough draft works & random works