notes to self

Notes to self:

there is something about crumpled sheets, getting lost in sea-tossed moments just before waking. there is something about swimming in the lullaby of half-rocked consciousness, lying suspended between being and not being. that kind of quiet is so rare, and so rarely useless.

there is something about pretending the house is on fire—quick what would you take?  what would you be glad to leave behind? who would you love? what would you let burn?

there is something about a kiss in a car stranded on the side of the highway. suddenly, the traffic doesn’t matter. suddenly there is no traffic. the world is made of stardust, your heart is full of night, the wind is dancing in your smile. that kind of kiss stops time, tears the world from its hinges, and does not look back.

there is something about pretending that you have permission to say everything you ever thought you wanted to say—quick what would you say? burn off the silence like your courage is gasoline meeting a lit match. don’t be afraid of smoke: it means change, metamorphosis.

there is something about learning to run. this is not a time for stillness. this is not a time to collect a river. this is a moment made of rapids, a current of colors, a perfect place to get lost. this is a time to find yourself, to let go, to let it out, to let.

what word do you have for freedom? how do you conjugate love? is desire hopelessly made of adverbs? you are future tense. your dog-eared past does not dictate your next paragraph.

the house is on fire. move your feet. retrieve your heart from the icebox. do not save such things for later. later is this minute, passing. later is a lie you keep telling that has never worked before. the house is on fire. you either get lost in the flames, or you run.

JANEisnotplain 02042014

dear [ ] : untitled

dear [    ]

our love is a rosary we can count out in the dark

I felt it the moment it started

thick, the way humidity broils

in midsummer and a few steps

to the door means breathlessness

and the desire to strip off skin

and smile.

get back inside where it is cool and safe.

I was afraid of everything, until you.

my heart clicked into place like clock-

work gears shedding their rust and you

pulled fears out by the roots, burning them

carefully.

this is not a mistake. You are not a mistake

You peel apart my fog and you hold me

as if I am the wind, fragile and impossible,

even when I am about to shatter.  you wage

war on my weaponized sorrow like a  grenade

already swallowed,  always unwilling to break,

always ready to bend. It is this wildness that

you love about me.

I am sorry. I have tried to tame it. I could not.

We are wants, needs, circumstances, whispers,

abandoned directions. we are the way the

rain swallows a skyline, a ballet of kisses,

passion pricked words threatening to  wilt on

the windowsill. we are waiting because words are

useless.

and because everything falls, eventually, into place.

Love,

JANEisnotplain 8.14.2013

TIRED

Tired

I am tired

tired of waiting

tired of saying please

only to hear no or a

monsoon of excuses

I am tired

tired of polite

tired of clean and crisp

tired of playing nice

and sitting still with

legs crossed at the knees

I am tired

tired of wearing this

circumstance like a mask

tired of wearing the ghost

of someone else’s mistakes

tired of wearing fear

like too much lipstick

I am tired

tired of rules and regulations

tired of barbed questions

tired of empty promises and

closed mouth kisses

I am tired

tired of hoping

that this isnt a lie

that this isnt a false image

that this is grey instead

of red, a spark instead

of a fire.

I am tired

I want to be free

I want to be flawed

I want to be dirty

I want to be wild and selfish

I am tired

of waiting.

JANEisnotplain 07.04.2013

dear [ ] : longing

longing


dear [  ]:

it tingles a little,
what isn't there.
and i reach out to,
and i still try to,
stroke, hold, scratch
but there is nothing
to catch but air where
your body once was
warm, giving me chills
as empty sheets move
like ghosts to the
rhythm of my long
-ing sighs.

love, 

JANEisnotplain 03312013

dear [ ] : pearls

pearls


dear [   ]:

when called a [       ]
i will not flinch. i have
heard that word already
from more [   ] mouths
and it no longer stings.

i know my sins and i am
always bracing for the
stones.

i do not make promises.
i am a promise. know that
i have drowned too many
times not to fear the water,
but i will not admit to this.

i sometimes drink wine
from a plastic cup, at night.
i am always looking for
the bottom but, never do i
want to find.

when my hands shake
in the morning, hold them.
they will be cold.

if i arrive bleeding, bandage me.
do not ask what happened.
begin repairs with a kiss.

i may ask you for things i
should not. pretend not to
notice. give easily and often.

my heart is a key
broken off in a lock.
keep it in your pocket.
expect nothing.

i am impossible but there is
such sweetness in the madness
and such symmetry in my flaws.


my love is a monster.
i will not apologize for
its mess, nor will i hide it,
either.

you cannot change me,
although you will want to.
i will not wash your feet.
i will offer no excuses.

i will never say your name
by accident. when i do, it will
sound like a prayer.

when i finally say
I love you
your body will become a
miracle, my hands, a rosary.



love,

JANEisnotplain 03252013

dear [ ] : i find you

I find you

dear [     ]:

pen in hand you

marked me with

inklings of our

shared time and

space that only

you can see.

my head is filled with

you. how do i turn to

other things when the

thought of you won’t

let me go?

i found a strand of

your hair on my bed

as i lay there in the

morning light and

wondered whether

to consider it a part

of you or just some-

thing you left behind?

but i find you in kisses,

sighs, smiles, tears,

music, silence, stories,

words, dreams, coffee,

art, tulips, and love.

JANEisnotplain 3.16.2013

FOR CLARA

For Clara:

i have no great pearls of wisdom to

spill out as gifts for your arrival and

i have no special proverb to give to

carry you bright-eyed and blameless

through this chaotic world  but ,

my wish for you is not a safe, boring, life

but one populated with the burdens of

your own choosing, some perhaps un-

foreseen,  but all naturally developing

along your road of bending slopes and

aspiring blooms as you build bone by bone,

sinew by sinew into the finest weave

this earth has known.

and when at last your path breaks up-

on the shoreline of an unspeakably

vast ocean, the terrain will meet your

steps with poetry and conviction and

you will be well-prepared to taste the

tang of the surf that will bear you

breathless into your next adventure.

JANEisnotplain 01232013