cardiogram
n. the curve traced by a cardiograph, used in the diagnosis of heart disorders
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n. the curve traced by a cardiograph, used in the diagnosis of heart disorders
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Contact
It Bloomed Until It Died
I.
There are times when I think I dreamed it all up, this love that I once held inside my body. It’s been so long. It was good though, right? It was good.
II.
I want to talk to you more about that, but it’s so hard to do over the phone, she says. She means my “situation.” She means my life; who I love and why, where I live, what I do, why I need to talk to someone for an hour every week, what good does it do? It’s fine, Mom. I can take care of myself. But what I really mean is that sometimes I just wish you would hold me. Sometimes I need you to hold me. I needed it back then, too.
III.
My body and I have become strangers. My heart beats so fast that I’m afraid it’s overworked, that it’s going to betray me. I feel it underneath my skin and in my throat and in my ears. Sometimes this heaviness sets in and each step is a ten-pound weight that drags its sorry ass down the sidewalk only because I force it. Everything is silent until the light turns off. The only sound is that of our eyelids fluttering up to the ceiling.
IV.
A week after emergency surgery—after the staples were removed—my incision opened up in the shower. It bloomed until it died and blood ran all over. I looked on without flinching. I watched the injury grow. I watched the cut open and expand its dark red mouth until I was ready to cover it up.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Boy Lilikoi — Jónsi
This song is simply stunning, and I cannot wait for the entire album.
Lately, These Masks
I.
Sometimes I walk aimlessly through New York when the night feels dead but I’m not ready to go home. Up and down 6th Avenue to 8th, then to 7th, and back to 6th. No real destination in mind. The city is always ahead of me or behind me, sometimes bright and other times completely dim. Everyone shrinks into their scarves and coats and our breath leaves our bodies and disappears into the black sky right over our eyes.
II.
A dream in which there is someone waiting for me downstairs. I am determined. I am going to get what I want. I want a long kiss with the sun coming through the window. I’ve made sure to brush my teeth and dissolve a mint. I don’t even know who this person is; I can’t recognize his face, even though I’ve read that we don’t make up people or faces in our dreams, that they are the result of people we know in our conscious life. I am being brave, I am gaining courage. But there’s always an interruption—a dog barking, the phone ringing, a knock at the door. I wake up when the doorknob turns.
III.
Do you suffer from Peter Pan syndrome? he asks me. I don’t know, I say. I respond with my stock answer, which isn’t an answer at all. How do I explain this feeling? That I’ve always felt older than I am, that it feels like I’ve experienced everything and yet nothing at the same time? Experiences are what make us grow up. Do you want to grow up?
IV.
Some people lie to you. They say that you are ugly, that you have bad teeth, and that you’re nothing but a warm body on a cold night, something that will spark but not catch fire. He’s a guy you wouldn’t even acknowledge if you were out. But you need to shut this ringing out.
Yesterday evening was so warm; I swear I could have kept walking and walking …
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
July Flame — Laura Veirs
I realize my last post was also an excuse to upload a Laura Veirs song, but her whole album—and this song in particular—is gorgeous. The way she sings Can I call you mine? over and over again until it almost becomes a chant makes me want to fall in love.
I’ve been sick the last few days, which means a lot of reading, movies, transcribing notebooks, writing poems that begin but have yet to reveal their endings, and generally wondering what happens next in these winter months that always feel so stagnant.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Silo Song — Laura Veirs
Am I going, am I going up in smoke?
Have I come up, have I come up in smoke?
