the every day masquerade

xx i try to make myself ugly to oo

oo you xx

xx may have confused me with oo

oo the future xx

xx not going to be engaging in "clarifications"

oo of xx

xx what you write here doesn't matter oo

xx you'll oo

xx get me on the transference oo

oo daughter xx

xx of dawn I'm leaving for dead oo

hide and seek

"I'm excited because she contacted me."

a healthy pattern, i silently note

how can i rework the formula?

if it never was equal

the absence of should make it so

the cursor talks for days while i,

i have nothing to say.

that it's all for the best, well of course it is

ten years ago - working on my deep breathing techniques. in and out. that's the trick. in and out. in and out. in and out. say a poem when you can't breathe. in and out. in and out. in and out. say to the down-keepers...say...

(psych the mind to psych the feet.)

i'm all in.

i'll buy the pot

please stop.

for me.

for my wedding

for your grand kids.

the table caved in.

and the truth came out. in and out. in and out. in and out.

the action is on you.

drop.

say to the sun-slappers...say

***

same cards. different opponent.

all in

please begin

for me.

for my wedding.

for my children.

the action is again, on you.

drop. fold.

say to the self-soilers...say

***

to all the harmony-hushers...say..

Live not for battles won.

because you won't win any anyway

Live in the along.

this is hard enough

even if you start with a good hand.

someone like me

"waging wars to shake the poet and the beat"
press play

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

so you
won't be my morrie
and i
won't be your tuesday person.

falling back to where the thoughts used to be
i imagine this will feel like they all did
the collective
who no longer are
what they were:

the best friend
the lover
and the mentor

all resigned.

the broken contract
calls for courage
to continue letting in
and to forever over
love

hoping it's the last time your roots
are ripped
from their foundation.

"and what of the wretched hallow - the endless inbetween"

A term like "friend" changes in complexity as our perceptions of ourselves, others and the world grow and alter -- the term is defined and then re-re-re defined infinitely. However, when we're younger it's simplified to merely encompass those with whom you spend a significant amount of time...

SO in fourth grade my best friend was Uche Emichebe, an energetic, african american boy who suffered from a mental handicap, rendering him rather inarticulate. When I close my eyes I can still see his endless smile, waving arms, hands gripped around a folded piece of wide-ruled loose-leaf paper, bouncing his legs, all to whatever soundtrack was playing solely in that private head of his. The aid, a woman in her mid thirties but seemingly much older, aged by the profession no doubt, often worried about my growing attachment. With her gentle, tired eyes, and a warm hand on my shoulder she'd repeatedly warn me about Uche's short and long-term memory issues, comments I barely heard at that age, comments that had no chance of resonating because the possibility didn't register in my brain. I could understand her words as words, but nothing more because in my feeble mind, time = memories and memories = friendship and friendship meant forever.

By choosing the grassy hill aside Uche at recess, waving our paper cranes in the sun, I was not choosing the surrounding games of tag and four square -- or participating in the girl drama of who likes who sitting next to you know who on the swings. I can understand the teacher's apprehension... but that time is not regrettable...not now and not shortly after when fifth grade came and I became cognizant of just how foreign I was to this boy with no memory.

I'm reminded of Uche as I experience the dissipation of a significant relationship in my life...or rather, my realization that it never was what I thought it was. Unlike Uche, she is very articulate, so much that she talks herself in circles, operating in formulas that she violates. This walking contradiction has always been this complicated...though I decided to, just like I did with Uche, write the story how I wanted.

Eventually though the two story lines meet. And it's at this crossroads that we either fall apart and choose a new path, or continue on, pressing the same keys, in the same pattern trying not to think about how we're pressing the same keys in the same pattern.

North / South / East / or West?

move on.

change is a natural part of / a constant redefining of / ourselves / perceptions / you / me / and why a tree is a tree.

as the leaves break beneath our steps
and as the days darken

so these struggles to strengths.

i move on to the hope of the blossoms.

- vs. -

"No one I've ever known is what they appear to be on the surface"

"It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep because everything is never as it seems"

"...ransom notes keep falling out your mouth - mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs..."

"If I was an important teacher for you, that's cool---but those days are over."

"This above all: to thine own self be true"

"Reality is that which, when one stops believing in it, doesn’t go away”