gormanda

Let me lead you beyond the words -- the crisp white imagination of those old lonely days, penetrated briefly by only music and prayer, to hours that never depart from that raw want of satisfaction, of lips –love stretched out soft and warm in dark twisted ache. Let me place my fragile breath, my very fear of days, in your sweet mouth so that you might, for once, take and have. And I will be for you, like the endless tug and twist of purple-gray Time, fanning out and wrenching inward, But yielding, in flesh, like clay.

Will the nights still be mine, Once you've found your provider? Your chest still aching, Your fingers still shaking; Your pain still profound, And still profoundly yours, In all its cold crimson ache-- However distant it may seem From your warm catharsis. Will your body still arch empty in the darkness? Will I embrace you, whimpering, And put your every little bone in place, holding you at rest? Your flesh, your pain Upon my imperfect breast. I pray, instead, you leave no trail of crumbs, I pray you bask in oven-light glow-- Your skin taking on a smoothness You've only coveted in the past. Then by the fringe of a skirt she

      Your first day will be awkward.  No one will give you an ounce of instruction, oddly enough, even though this is a very structured place.  You won't know how any of this works.  You went to public school.  Liam will come in first.  His tiny body will not at all match up with his elevated vocabulary.  You will find his Aspbergian quality rather charming, very much akin to a wonderfully overactive imagination that never gets shut off.   This may be problematic when you sit with him and slog through math problems, math problems that he could do in his sleep.  You may get through five in an hour, and this will be considered "pretty good".  

Sparkly Purple Artifact of the Self      George Washington wrote in his diary, "about ten o'clock I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, with the best dispositions to render service to my country in obedience to its call, but with less hope of answering its expectations." Sylvia Plath wrote in her diary, "today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: After a heavy rainfall, poems entitled Rain pour in from across the nation." John Steinbeck wrote in his diary that he thought The Grapes of Wrath to be just a run-of-the-mil

This is the closet That she locked herself in When she knew that what they had Would no longer be enough. This is the bed That they, faithfully, Slept on every night, Even though she was with another man. This is the bathroom Where they tried to clean Their faces stained by tears And ruddied by screams This is the rug, That they swept the whole affair under, Until one day, while cleaning, it oozed out Filling the room and suffocating them This lovely one bedroom One and a half bathroom apartment Abutting a pet-friendly neighborhood Is sure to sell fast, call now.

An unnaturally thorny rose Tattooed across your flat belly--   To protect you, you said. Lauren- I wish I could see you only in that vague sense that I once did, Seeing you, knowing you, only from a picture, Fake black hair and ballet clothes, Neither a smile nor a frown on your thin white face. I am not to say which of your daily aches were real, And which were manufactured like your leather-boots; But you made sure the pain of each stomp was shared. Lauren- I wish I could talk to you like I imagined I might have, once Before you hurt your leg and spoke only in commands, Before you hurt your back and spoke only in pained

The Difference      I am a Yankee living a in a foreign world of okra and grits.  I was born and raised in Northern New Jersey but attend college five hours away in Fredericksburg, Virginia.  At first glance, some may find the differences between New Jersey and Virginia to be few, or of little consequence, but they are terribly mistaken.    Virginians wear gym uniforms in high school, they go to grocery stores with bizarre names like Giant and Food Lion, and they talk to strangers in public restrooms.  They don't have diners or authentic Jewish bagels, and their pizza doesn't even deserve the title "pizza".   But what's worse than all of th

I am lonely and you can't help me, You say, flatly. But you have articulated it so well. You lie thin in the grass Looking at beauty you will never hold And never have You are so small, you are almost nothing. You are laughing and you are being so strong finding promise of happiness in what is bittersweet I try to do the same. Looking at you looking at her, I almost want to call that whole thing love But it is not. It is something else. When I touch you, When I glow in your admiration of her (If I make myself love her) I am still nothing And you are still lonely.

My small feet Are resting on your belly, soft Your breathing, slow I think only of bread and warmth and home And you Inhaling, as though breathing in The flower, her And something perfect Becomes, quietly Somehow attainable.