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