I Hear a Hoo

It's most likely evident
that I have trouble sleeping
& not that it's relevant
but I've held a secret merit in keeping
a journal;
a mirror of the internal
declaration of independence
out of the quiet
via emotional transcendence
despite a mental corset.
It's not really that hard to see,
I'm losing my mind to Me.


c.marie

By Your Spine

Well... You looked at me
suggestively
when you were reciting your favorite lines
from that book you let me borrow
about
embracing the joys & sorrow
of getting to know your own mind...

Well... I wanted so desperately
to be
pressed upon those pages
then perhaps you would have been able
to read me, too
& you would have known that I was
this close
to kissing you to the ground
& that I longed to be bound by your spine...

But... Then the stupid doorbell rang
like some
clincher-cliche from a bad movie
only, more risque
but all you could say was
"Well, that's convenient."
& you pretended not to mean it
speaking with a smile that couldn't
beguile the truth that
you were shy & that's okay,
'cause so was I...

Well... In that forever-second you looked
into me,
deep
past yours or my uncertainty
in a brief moment of honesty
& I think we both forgot to breathe
a little
still high on two bottles of wine...

Well... Until the doorbell rang again
& it was then when you smirked with
smug lips as you rose to your feet
& I was dry for quick quips
before you even popped up from the floor
by your slender hips
to walk to the door with ease & charm
leaving me lying enchanted & disarmed
& you unlocked the bolted barrier
looking over your shoulder
at me, grounded behind...


c.marie

Glow

She's been visiting me in my dreams
from which i wish not to wake.

She's a figure for which i would learn
to use an abacus to figure out.

She's the smoke
of which i'd breathe a forever drag.

She's the trickling sand in the hourglass
& i'm upside down cupping the flow.

She is the firefly
& i am the glow.


c.marie

Remind Me...

It is painstakingly evident when I miss you. It is painstaking, when you are not around me; when we are not laughing ridiculously, making stupid things funny, appreciating the same beautiful thing in different ways, sharing our ideas & beliefs & wonders & endless questions & curiosities...

There are moments; when I laugh or tilt my head to my shoulder in order to see something more closely, in an attempt for some perspective, those moments when reality & imagination merge to create an incredible vision only you would understand or perhaps think of yourself... those moments are beautiful & cursed, for I look over in your direction with a dolphin smile to share... but you're not really there. All there is, is empty air to fill my limp lungs to fuel my stuttered heart, when you're not here.

But you feel it. Me. My thoughts of you... & immediately I am reminded that our minds are so synchronized, so parallel, when I see your name on my 2 inch screen after a message-ring from my pocket; I can't help but look over, & smile at the empty air where I know you know I am looking for you.

You remind me, that we were made for greatness together.

Mantra

Board to the beach...

Gotta sit & rethink, on the edge of my seat, on my own personal retreat. Gotta try to defeat these, inconsistencies takin' rise to optimize, obstacles as far as my eyes can see.

So, in the sand I sit, & I breathe, & I look & try to see, & I remember... Me.


c.marie

Face the Music

The face of the clock,
how he keeps a watch
on everything we do...

But a clock chimes death,
when time to face the music
at the cuckoo bird's cuckoo.


c.marie

Backfire

Her hand didn't move in mine... Not the way I imagined it would. My fingers traced her shape: arm & wrist & lines & palm & fingers; the way they would have on a map, linking unexplored locations together in a flesh-memory. Her skin was warm milk & I wanted to drink her in until I fell asleep. Every time she met her mouth with mine, time seemed to stand still & fast-forward simultaneously. So frozen with anticipation, ecstasy; my skin was raised in goosebumps. Every follicle of hair on my body had morphed into an atomic soldier rooted so deeply to my nerves, each stood fixed at attention, shocked by the electricity of her touch. I was the hammer & she was the trigger. I was cocked, waiting for the firing of the gun of possibilities. But she couldn't pull the trigger. She just let her finger rest there, taught with silent anxiety & secret fear, though her eyes screamed with provocation... as if to test how much pressure she could squeeze the trigger with before the gun went off.

She was an illusion that made my eyes water. I had thought so much, at how & when & where, to have this time with her that I didn't realize how quickly it would go... & all I wanted was more.

More time. More time to show this cynic of love, this non-believer, that such a thing really does exist; that it's not just a verb. More time to reveal that a word hasn't yet been invented for the feeling. More time to demonstrate that the placebo fillers she'd been shoveling into the cave of her calloused heart would weigh her down like mud & rust her armor to her skin.

But each time I opened my eyes, after each kiss, the first sight was her pair of swampy green eyes... & it was I who was stuck in the mud.

c.marie

Tangible Imaginary

Peanuts & pretzels fill my nose with their salty scents, helping me imagine this flight is a carnival... or circus...

All the animals & performers perched in seats leathered with a weathered blue color reminiscent of your father's old suit. You know the suit. The one that seemed so perfectly content to hang lifeless in the closet, next to the colony of unused ties; the suit that was only worn for court appearances or office Christmas parties.

So here we are, holding a carnival court in the sky... Idly standing-by, waiting to return to each of our natural habitats; to return to each of our carefully executed acrobatics of juggling: work. school. love. life. ridiculous thoughts. desires.

Each of us, someone else's temporary, tangible imaginary friend.

c.marie