Wednesday, December 22, 2010

 i like my body when it is with your    body. It is so quite a new thing.    Muscles better and nerves more.    i like your body. i like what it does,    i like its hows. i like to feel the spine    of your body and its bones, and the trembling    -firm-smooth ness and which i will    again and again and again    kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,    i like,, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz    of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes    over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,     and possibly i like the thrill     of under me you quite so new


Sunday, November 28, 2010

In a nervous and slender-leaved mimosa grove at the back of their villa we found a perch on the ruins of a low stone wall. Through the darkness and tender trees we could see the arabesques of lighted windows which, touched up by the colored inks of sensitive memory, appear to me now like playing cards---presumably because a bridge game was keeping the enemy busy. She trembled and twitched as I kissed the corner of her parted lips and the hot lobe of her ear. A cluster of stars palely glowed above us, between the silhouettes of long thin leaves; that vibrant sky seemed as naked as she was under her light frock. I saw her face in the sky, strangely distinct, as if it emitted a faint radiance of its own. Her legs, her lovely live legs, were not too close together, and when my hand located what it sought, a dreamy and eerie expression, half-pleasure, half-pain, came over those childish features. She sat a little higher than I, and whenever in her solitary ecstasy she was led to kiss me, her head would bend with a sleepy, soft, drooping movement that was almost woeful, and her bare knees caught and compressed my wrist, and slackened again; and her quivering mouth, distorted by the acridity of some mysterious potion, with a sibilant intake of breath came near to my face.
She would try to relieve the pain of love by first roughly rubbing her dry lips against mine; then my darling would draw away with a nervous toss of her hair, and then again come darkly near and let me feed on her open mouth, while with a generosity that was ready to offer her everything, my heart, my throat, my entrails, I gave her to hold in her awkward fist the scepter of my passion.


Sunday, November 21, 2010

Life is short.

Friday, November 12, 2010


I want a red door.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

big mistake

hammer to nail
teeth and bones
this here
is a broken wing

If wings were promises
I would have hundreds,

I live in this mess.

some days I pluck feathers
some days I wear one in my hair
some days I wear one like a cross

Monday, November 1, 2010

the weeders


a place to sleep. toothpaste. a full belly. loving friends. fall. my camera. sharp knives. dancing while cooking. cute babies. when the subway pulls up just as you walk down the stairs. the lessons that come from heartbreak. gin. San Marzano tomatoes. cheese.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.

the little sparrow

There was the walk home. I know it so well I don't even have to look up. Leaves now, that wonderful crunch. The sunny side of the street. Edith Piaf. A glass of wine, stack of books. The stoop.
I remember that song about the music on Clinton St. all through the evening. And lost amongst the subway crowd I try to catch your eye. And then that sunny cottage kitchen where I taught myself how to cook, barefoot and so totally free. I remember bong rips and stacks of Lonestar cans. Smoking cigarettes on the steps, spying on that cute single dad with the toddler. Space heaters. The giant claw-foot bathtub. Stealing the neighbor's lavender. Some of these things are connected. Some songs carry me through life, like a raft. Or a life jacket.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

hail satan!


how I mourn nothing.

words on a screen
the idea of you
and me
in a city in the rain.

I think I told you
the last time I saw you
that I've always remembered your lips
with my eyes closed.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

in response

She said that I
was the stone and the moon
and that New York is not
a lonely place.

I braided my hair today
I walked around.
Every time
I feel like a feather
half an orange
or maybe a shadow.

Definitely a shadow.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Oh, Bali

she's not a girl who misses much

this apple has been abused

that fat bearded man who is always sitting outside of Junior's.

It's getting late
it's trash night
someone is collecting bottles

gin on the rocks
this is so lonely.


I just want to have snakes for hair.

The Fury of Abandonment

Someone lives in a cave
eating his toes,
I know that much.
Someone little lives under a bush
pressing an empty Coca-Cola can against
his starving bloated stomach,
I know that much.
A monkey had his hands cut off
for a medical experiment
and his claws wept.
I know that much.

I know that it is all
a matter of hands.
Out of the mournful sweetness of touching
comes love
like breakfast.
Out of the many houses come the hands
before the abandonment of the city,
out of the bars and shops,
a thin file of ants.

I've been abandoned out here
under the dry stars
with no shoes, no belt
and I've called Rescue Inc. --
that old-fashioned hotline --
no voice.
Left to my own lips, touch them,
my own dumb eyes, touch them,
the progression of my parts, touch them,
my own nostrils, shoulders, breasts,
navel, stomach, mound, kneebone, ankle,
touch them.

It makes me laugh
to see a woman in this condition.
It makes me laugh for America and New York City
when your hands are cut off
and no one answers the phone.

-Anne Sexton

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

does it have a title? if it didn't would you name it?

Tonight I remember the sound of a newborn baby's cry.

I temporarily forgot how to spell the word SKY
trying to hide amongst people and diamonds, churchgoers and envelope stuffers.

What are these, my hands?

Monday, October 18, 2010

Life without avocados is probably not worth living.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Friday, October 15, 2010

a tender history

I didn't want to go out
but you can't ditch a friend on their 29th birthday

Driving over the bridge at night is still magical
champagne buzz
it makes me remember to love this place; maybe the train wasn't running for just that reason

late night half-drunken meal concoctions
tulsi tea for breakfast
warm laundry

Even after all these months I still sleep on "my" side of the bed
but I think I'm getting used to sleeping alone.


If you're born a lion
don't bother trying to act tame

Everything I do
I do for the first time

Can I follow you home and listen to you think
leave my lip prints on your cups
leave my hairs in your sink


and bake

then ride the train. why not?

Thursday, October 14, 2010

thoughts while sitting in a van

leaf piles
kids laughing
the smell of sap
free food
girls in silly shoes
hot showers
clean kitchens
the smell of a man
hand sanitizer
wooden spoons
lemon zest
dog walkers
patches of sunlight
real beer
going for it
head stands
bike rides
mint tea in my favorite cup
my camera
pink nail polish
being me
weeping elms
blank slates
square ice

I have a cold.

don't mess with

Melinda. Texans reunite!

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Everything is beautiful but I can't help it.

live in the present moment. do it.

The greatest achievement is selflessness.

The greatest worth is self-mastery.

The greatest quality is seeking to serve others.

The greatest precept is continual awareness.

The greatest medicine is the emptiness of everything.

The greatest action is not conforming with the world's ways.

The greatest magic is transmuting the passions.

The greatest generosity is non-attachment.

The greatest goodness is a peaceful mind.

The greatest patience is humility.

The greatest effort is not concerned with results.

The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go.


Monday, October 11, 2010

She warned me once she warned me twice but I don't take no one's advice

can you hear me?

report abuse

if you see something, skate something


cat food and vomit



numb guitar fingers

minor chords make me cry.



songs are like tattoos

You know I've been to sea before
Crown and anchor me
Or let me sail away

Hey Blue, there is a song for you
Ink on a pin
Underneath the skin
An empty space to fill in
Well there're so many sinking now
You've got to keep thinking
You can make it through these waves

here is a shell for you
Inside you'll hear a sigh
A foggy lullaby
There is your song from me

Friday, October 8, 2010

Thursday, October 7, 2010


I wish I was traveling.

I miss the desert
I miss the road
I miss glaring sunsets and
backseat pot smoking.

I want to sleep on the ground
bathe in a river


Wednesday, October 6, 2010

good things

steamed broccoli with lemon and butter
my guitar
awesome mail from friends
getting my records back
clean laundry
old letters
making lists
late night yoga
long hair
Studio One
being alone
blank DVDs
pajama pants
autumn air
Brooklyn brown ale
dirty hands
being reunited with my mixer, rolling pin, and immersion blender

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

maybe I'm better as a fantasy
without skinned knees
and hair that smells like chinatown karaoke bars


My heart cries for just one little line

Thursday, September 30, 2010


East Village rooftops
Thai coconuts
photo expeditions
avocado sushi
long talks on stairs
people watching
sidewalk cafes
cloudy blue sky
dick jokes
skateboarding competitions
little kids
red bananas
shitty wine
new friends, fun boys
swisha house
sea shell toilet seats

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

It's fucking weird weird weird walking past 10th St.
not taking a left
and not even taking a right

just walking on.

I felt like I couldn't see through my lens today. I saw a sign that said "Don't forget to write."
I saw plastic grapes and pretty graphic design, shitty graffiti and misty building tops. And there you were on my mind, just sitting there, swinging your feet.
And then I closed my eyes and there were your lips.
I took a deep breath.

I ate Lamb Chopper and a stale baguette. I ate figs and drank wine. I went out for a walk after the house was sleeping. I had a standoff with a cat. I slept fitfully and here I am. Pouring it out. Holding it back. Beating my drum.

I want to rip open my chest and pull everything out, put it all back rearranged.

the first night