november please be good to me

I was thinking of you and I looked out. Saw two people kissing in the rain.

The month is gray fog over the valley and cold rain. It's a quiety time. I'd like nothing more than to curl up close to you because you're always warm.

sweet dreams and flying machines

What interesting debris washes up on the steps after Halloween. The place was transformed in the night, and now we see what the illusions were made of. I went walking today with my eyes on the ground. I found a crown, and a shoe with diamonds set in rows in the heel. And two satin ribbons the same color but different lengths, and a mask with a horrible grin and empty, glaring eyes, which shed glitter and shone light in a million different directions. These among the fallen leaves and discarded rings and brightly-colored feathers all around. And finally an angel's wing, it's mate at the bottom of a curving stair.

don't dare wander

The darkness comes so much more quickly now.

That’s what separates summer from fall. The feeling of finality. Fatality. Limits. Deadlines creep up- we feel the stress of winter coming. Even though we long ago found ways around preparing for the winter, gathering food and wood to store, deep inside us we still feel the season’s urgency. Get Things Done, it says. Can’t put off till tomorrow anymore- by then the snows might be here. You can pull the blinds tight against the earlier dark, but it sneaks in around the cracks, tap tap tapping on shoulders, “Shouldn’t you have finished that by now? You know you’ll regret not doing it sooner.” You already regret not doing it sooner but somehow the reminder puts you off. You push away the feeling and leave it later and later. This is what the darkness does.

concerns of you

I found a bone in the woods today, bleached white and so delicate, and then the rain started. I took it home with me and placed it in the box you made me before you had to go. Missing you is getting harder. I forgot to wake up today, but Dr. Queen didn’t get mad. He said meet him later, but sometimes I don’t like the way he smiles. I like your smile better. Too bad you took all the oceans south with you and I’m still here with my paper. Sorry your letter got soaked, I know I promised I’d take better care, but I never remember my rain slicker before I close the door. My mind can’t hold concerns of anything but you.

write your own story

He flew off west, and after the setting sun made his shadow unintelligible, we never saw him again

love poems

          Today I woke up and something was different. I think I dreamed about you. I wasn't tired when I got up this morning. My eyelids stayed open instead of asking to close again like they usually do. I think my top and bottom eyelids must be in love with each other, because they always seem to want to be together. I do a lot of sleeping here.
          Aaron wrote me a poem yesterday. He says he is in love with me, but I know better. So I wrote him a poem back explaining why he shouldn't be in love with me, but I don't think he really understood it. If someone wants to be in love, there's nearly nothing you can do to stop them. And I love you, but you're way aways down south with the storms. You laughed, but be careful please.

it started quietly

It's difficult to get used to the turning here, and I'm very sorry for the lack of posts, but I'm starting to settle in. Time is changeable, you know? But I get to see the sun rise over the valley each morning. Nevermind the early wakeup.

I like morning times because they are quiet.  Nights are loud and bright with possibility and silver and hope. But mornings are still, as if the world is still remembering how to fill the place with sound.  the world is bigger in the mornings- emptier. Nights are close, but in the morning the atmosphere is stretched out and clean. And if you have time to sit and watch it fill up with a cup of coffee while it cools enough for you to gulp down, well then. So much the better.