beach weather

walked across a deserted city beach this afternoon: clear, grey puddles, tinged a bleak green or a surreal crystal blue, so still, reflections of a saturated silver sky, deep, sealskin-gray cloud like a globe overhead and crisp, light, bright edges. The sillouette of a lone tree hanging over the water nearly blended with the sky, a murky silvery fog.Walked onto green glowing moss against the crags on the point; gulls, seals, crows, and terns everywhere eating bits of salmon and fighting, locking beaks, swimming under currents to peak natural as waves on the surface.

just another (glorious) day

i could disappear through the flare of the sun, in that brilliant orange like the center of your heart. while it went down your face turned color through the window. lunch at the beach hotel and a matinee. listening to meg white sing 'in the cold, cold night' over and over all day in my head and now johnny and june chime in. slept twisted together through the darkening sky and woke up to a surreal night. last night screaming like a maniac through the beautiful syrupy red and white wine candy striped haze, smoke like a nimbus. the clock said three a.m. and i was seeing about seven rufus' singing 'art teacher' so it was time for sleep. tonight is rehab: green tea and my guitar ready to pick itself it wants to be played so badly.

boo

frightened of exposing myself more and more and more and more. i used to be so open. i wish i could turn myself inside out or shuffle backwards into a shell, with windows. i've been wanting more and more to look at the world and not have to suffer participation. i suppose because its so comforting to stay in all day and move my life around in little undisturbed circles like ripples of water. i have been freakishly happy these days. no one but him would indulge in this lifestyle with me. my lungs should be killing me but they're not. this calm is invading every black hole in my life. my dreams are peaceful. i reach for things more slowly. i can finally stand to wait for the kettle to boil.

our limbs are merciful
as a mind asleep
and sing in our submission
to some peace

we smoke and watch the fire
melt into sinew and bone,
filter the air through
the soft pink of our mouths.

the light darkens, we dim
like dying fireflies
in the jar of our room,
burn out into sleep