We are Both Trembling Things

mojgani: 30/30, two

Damn.  People seem to enjoy my poems.  Invariably, these people are my friends so it sort of makes their opinions...questionable.  If they didn't know me; If I were, perhaps, just some random guy who happened to pass them a poem on a napkin, what would they think of it then?

Call me a wild thing. I run sometimes. Sometimes I sleep
beneath the ancient tree. My belly is softer than my back.
There are things inside of me that are overgrown with blackberries.
They are plump with the sun, ready to stain the fingers.
There is a room where a woman with a loom weaves.
She is making a fabric white as skin. The light passes through it.
Her body is like lace. The light passes through it.
Its corners curl into shapes and beautiful patterns.
She lays herself before me on top the table
and places my teacup on to her chest.
They are both trembling things.
She covers her body with teacups.
I lay at her feet.
We are both trembling things.

I don't know Anis Mojgani.  I never shook his hand or teased him about his height.  I've never dismissed the snarks of homophobes while embracing him, man to man, in a crowded restaurant.  We are not friends.  But I'd like to be.  I'd like to meet Anis Mojgani the way some people would like to hang out backstage with their favorite musicians.  This man is my rock star.  I hear he hangs out at the Bowery Poetry Club.  Last time I was in New York I went out in search of it, only to get lost and give up hope.  And just as we were about to descend down into another subway terminal I look up...and there it is.  Right across the street.

Next time, I'll be able to find it a lot easier.  Maybe they'll have an open mic night or something.  Maybe I'll read.  Maybe Anis Mojgani will be in the crowd.  Maybe he'll clap.

That'd be awesome.

Buss Up Yuh Melon!

A friend of mine asked me today 'How do you fall in love?'

Now, lets not get into how she decided i was somehow some expert on love, or falling into love, or even being able to express what that whole deal is like.  Lets just pretend that I'm not that fucked up.  That people can ask me questions.  Lets pretend that I know what the fuck I'm talking about.

Her: How do you fall in love?
Me:  Head first.

"Seriously, the answer is always head first.  Sometimes your walking along, quite cool, quite calm, and all of a sudden your foot hits something and BAM!  You're falling, head first, sprawling out, buss up yuh melon!  That's when you stop seeing straight and start talking all fool-fool!

"And then, sometimes, you stand there and you have to psyche yourself into it.  You stand there thinking 'Okay.  This is it.  I'm gonna fall.  I'm gonna lift my feet up and point my head at the ground.  I'm gonna break my neck.  I'm gonna knock out all my teeth.  I'm gonna eat so much sand and I'm gonna do it all on purpose because that's what love is.'

"Of course, this is hardly a pleasant prospect for any sane person.  But, remember, you're not sane.  You're considering falling in love, which means you're already thinkin' all fool-fool."

The XX - Shelter

The xx :: Shelter

Just heard these guys today on an NPR Live Concerts program.  This is, officially, my favorite song for right now.  Gonna work on getting the album tomorrow.  For now, come sit on the floor with me.  We won't talk.  We won't do anything.  Just listen.

Mash Up di Vibes

I thought of kissing Her. One second we were looking for kittens and the wind blew her hair into my face. Across my scalp. I felt myself tingle with a sudden realization of her beauty.

The next, we were standing, talking, and I was staring at her lips. Thin, fine lips. I've never kissed thin lips like that. They might be nice, I thought. See the way they form curlicues when She smiles? See the way She presses them together. See the way She occasionally moistens them, as if keeping them ready. Just in case. Our wide, unrestrained smiles might be good together. Pressed together. Held together.

One second I'm taking her home, and she says "I'm not quite ready yet. Lets drive around for a bit. See what we find." And I'm thinking: This is a beginning. I know beginnings. This is one of them. This is a turning point. This is where new things happen. I should know. I am the Fool. I have a close tie to the new. The ever-changing. And I have elation in my head. And I am dancing on the precipice. And I have her lips in my sights.

The next second....She's answering her phone. She is plaintive. She is patient. She is sad. She is uncomfortable. She is saying things like 'I'm on my way home' and 'I don't know' and 'Me too' and 'I'll ask' and 'I said I'll ask.'

Ask what?

"Andre, can you take me to--"

"No." I say. I am not thinking of her lips anymore. "I don't think that's a good idea."  I am thinking of who I know at that address.  No one.  But it must be someone.  "I'll just take you home."

"...Yeah." She says. She sounds disappointed. Her lips aren't as pretty when she frowns.  We are silent.  I am filling in the spaces in her conversation.  Me too.  I'll ask. The next moment she is gathering her things.  Her phone.  She is stepping out of the car.  She waves, disappointed, and as I'm about to say something she puts the phone to her ear and opens her gate.

This is an ending. I know endings. I am the Fool.

What have I learned today?

"Silence is not a natural environment for stories. They need words. Without them they grow pale, sicken and die. And then they haunt you."

From The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

Full disclosure from here on out. Can't stand to be haunted. Besides, who's reading that would be offended?

Besides. I get to be selfish. At least here. This...is for me.