"Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no." (p9)
"I am desperately looking the other way so that love won't see me." (p10)
"I had been an emotional nomad for too long. Hadn't i come here weak and bruised to put a fence round the space Louise now threatened?" (p38)
Winterson, Jeanette: Written on The Body, 1992
2011-10-31
2011-10-24
i am not trying to decipher the dreams,
love. they chose me to dream them,
what choice do i have but to make them mine?
the trees on my skin are only for my sleep;
the branches ink themselves vein-deep.
(there will come a morning, when
the braille on my body sneaks into waking.)
the old lady who lives between the walls
of the moving hotel tells me
the trees are yours
and i am the one to blame
for captivating them
she says you'll hate me
once you smell the sea
my waters are salty apparently
and the trees are already dry
just from touching me
the hills of my high school
become one with grandma's street
i am stuck in the balcony
pushing my face deep into the rails
i can't get through
i end up with bruises
on my rosy cheeks
in my toddler mouth
the hills are covered with trees
grandma picks me up by the neck
i am not a cat
i am not a cat
i purr
my kinder garden sweetheart
grabs me from her hands
i am a black cat on his snowy face
he kisses my belly
i paw him in the eye
the trees are waiting
the trees are calling
i am not a cat
i am not a cat
i growl
the old lady whispers through the walls
according to her hate will anchor you
my body stretches out
my breasts face the sky
the earth drinks me through
the mole wounds on my back
i stretch
i stretch
i stretch
i cover the hill
with bones and hair
with my long bones
with my long hair
the branches reach down
the branches take over
i am not a cat
i am not a cat
i am just a girl
trees claim my skin
what choice do i have but to love you,
love?(a neverending branching)
we would be improbable any other way.
love. they chose me to dream them,
what choice do i have but to make them mine?
the trees on my skin are only for my sleep;
the branches ink themselves vein-deep.
(there will come a morning, when
the braille on my body sneaks into waking.)
the old lady who lives between the walls
of the moving hotel tells me
the trees are yours
and i am the one to blame
for captivating them
she says you'll hate me
once you smell the sea
my waters are salty apparently
and the trees are already dry
just from touching me
the hills of my high school
become one with grandma's street
i am stuck in the balcony
pushing my face deep into the rails
i can't get through
i end up with bruises
on my rosy cheeks
in my toddler mouth
the hills are covered with trees
grandma picks me up by the neck
i am not a cat
i am not a cat
i purr
my kinder garden sweetheart
grabs me from her hands
i am a black cat on his snowy face
he kisses my belly
i paw him in the eye
the trees are waiting
the trees are calling
i am not a cat
i am not a cat
i growl
the old lady whispers through the walls
according to her hate will anchor you
my body stretches out
my breasts face the sky
the earth drinks me through
the mole wounds on my back
i stretch
i stretch
i stretch
i cover the hill
with bones and hair
with my long bones
with my long hair
the branches reach down
the branches take over
i am not a cat
i am not a cat
i am just a girl
trees claim my skin
what choice do i have but to love you,
love?(a neverending branching)
we would be improbable any other way.
2011-10-22
2011-10-21
2011-10-20
there is one thought and one sentence that keep haunting me. i can not even bring myself to transform the thought into words. yet the sentence, the sentence is eating away at me. "hit the road, jack!" yesyes, you are right, it is a song. and the next sentence is "don't you come back no more..." you should know that the repetition doesn't actually distress me. i chant sentences and songs in my head insistently. it is a form of distraction. words are the rocks i build walls with. the problem lays in my inability to switch to a new sentence, this one just refuses to be dumped.
"hit the road, jack" keeps spinning on my merry-go-around; happily determined, teasing my every move. so i keep it company, i play with each word.
hit.
maybe i should start kick-boxing again. i'll sell my comic books. that should pay for a few months of training. or i should buy the punching-bag i've been wanting for so long. i have a little money saved up; and it doesn't look like i'll be needing it any time soon. accidentally hitting my head on the table as i sneeze doesn't count as actual hitting. that just leaves me more frustrated. it doesn't provide a lasting release. yes, the throbbing gives me a sick pleasure, but only momentarily....
the.
the summer. the book. the boy. the school. the fall. the camera. the wall. the dream. the love. the reality. the money. the ennui. the mind. the soul. the body. the red. the black. the purple. the sex. the sea. the touch. the hate. the phone. the gun. the computer. the glasses. the letter. the face. the palm. the dark. the bark. the light. the smile. the tear. the sun. the moon. the solitude. the company. the excess. the lack. the skin. the beard. the fire. the ex. the fear. the devil. the woods. the hope. the song. the rain. the laugh. the name. the window. the coffee. the ache. the cake. the cramp. the road. the run. oh, yes, and the merry-go-around.
road...
jack...
"hit the road, jack" keeps spinning on my merry-go-around; happily determined, teasing my every move. so i keep it company, i play with each word.
hit.
maybe i should start kick-boxing again. i'll sell my comic books. that should pay for a few months of training. or i should buy the punching-bag i've been wanting for so long. i have a little money saved up; and it doesn't look like i'll be needing it any time soon. accidentally hitting my head on the table as i sneeze doesn't count as actual hitting. that just leaves me more frustrated. it doesn't provide a lasting release. yes, the throbbing gives me a sick pleasure, but only momentarily....
the.
the summer. the book. the boy. the school. the fall. the camera. the wall. the dream. the love. the reality. the money. the ennui. the mind. the soul. the body. the red. the black. the purple. the sex. the sea. the touch. the hate. the phone. the gun. the computer. the glasses. the letter. the face. the palm. the dark. the bark. the light. the smile. the tear. the sun. the moon. the solitude. the company. the excess. the lack. the skin. the beard. the fire. the ex. the fear. the devil. the woods. the hope. the song. the rain. the laugh. the name. the window. the coffee. the ache. the cake. the cramp. the road. the run. oh, yes, and the merry-go-around.
road...
jack...
2011-09-27
"tell me, tell me how it's done!" is all i could make out as his chest thundered and voice squealed. it took me eternal minutes to calm him down enough so he could form different sentences. "how do you stand being alone? how do you go through the years without being loved? i don’t remember the last time you were in a real relationship. tell me how!!" oh, shit. i wasn't ready for those. i knew how most people perceived my single-woman status in this country, but i just wasn't prepared to hear it so naked and rough.
he thought i wasn't loved.
he thought i was ok with it.
he thought i could give him pointers.
i wanted to kick him in the balls to make him cry harder, i wanted to laugh his idiocy at his face, i wanted to fall down on my own knees and scream. i just held his hands and said "we are resilient creatures, there is not much we can't get used to. besides, there is more to life than lovethings."
i don’t know which one of us needed to hear those words. yet after them we were both ready for some jack on-the-rocks.
he thought i wasn't loved.
he thought i was ok with it.
he thought i could give him pointers.
i wanted to kick him in the balls to make him cry harder, i wanted to laugh his idiocy at his face, i wanted to fall down on my own knees and scream. i just held his hands and said "we are resilient creatures, there is not much we can't get used to. besides, there is more to life than lovethings."
i don’t know which one of us needed to hear those words. yet after them we were both ready for some jack on-the-rocks.
2011-10-19
........
my solitude has made friends with your confusion;
your reluctance has grown on my flooding passion.
i shrug and push forth a tidal smile.
my lake feeds into your wells
or they emptied you in my lake;
in the same waters our souls dance.
let's take a plunge to the depths;
the pitch black comfort of gloom awaits us.
i only drown high up in the sky;
down here, i am a thousand kisses
blowing life into your lungs.
infinite spaces,
relative directions,
i swim sans time.
my solitude has made friends with your confusion;
your reluctance has grown on my flooding passion.
i shrug and push forth a tidal smile.
my lake feeds into your wells
or they emptied you in my lake;
in the same waters our souls dance.
let's take a plunge to the depths;
the pitch black comfort of gloom awaits us.
i only drown high up in the sky;
down here, i am a thousand kisses
blowing life into your lungs.
infinite spaces,
relative directions,
i swim sans time.
2011-10-10
tell me; what am i thinking?
are these thoughts mine? or am i forcing myself to think them, pushing myself to care. i care, of course i do. there is no point calling myself homo sapiens if i don't feel. so i choose a feeling and pursue it, is that it? i taught my mind to control itself, i had to. they told me it wasn't acceptable to stay on the dark side. sanity is a non-optional social convention among my peers. funny, they act more insane than i ever did. compared to them, i was merely lost in my growing pains. so i taught my thoughts to keep it cool, especially in company. none need to know of my invisible cats, and raging gladiators. i kept the colours of my balloons to my dreams, i hid the taste of my itching fingertips. if i mastered thought control, does that mean i control my emotions, too? tell me, why have i chosen these ones now? maybe i just got bored with the old one, and needed a new playground. no, i never played games with other hearts. even when i was dark, i couldn't lie. they won't let you play if you don't lie. did i get jealous, is that why i am playing with my heart now? tell me; am i playing, is this a game? it is raining again, have i chosen to wrap myself in games this fall? tell me; where is my deep black shawl?
are these thoughts mine? or am i forcing myself to think them, pushing myself to care. i care, of course i do. there is no point calling myself homo sapiens if i don't feel. so i choose a feeling and pursue it, is that it? i taught my mind to control itself, i had to. they told me it wasn't acceptable to stay on the dark side. sanity is a non-optional social convention among my peers. funny, they act more insane than i ever did. compared to them, i was merely lost in my growing pains. so i taught my thoughts to keep it cool, especially in company. none need to know of my invisible cats, and raging gladiators. i kept the colours of my balloons to my dreams, i hid the taste of my itching fingertips. if i mastered thought control, does that mean i control my emotions, too? tell me, why have i chosen these ones now? maybe i just got bored with the old one, and needed a new playground. no, i never played games with other hearts. even when i was dark, i couldn't lie. they won't let you play if you don't lie. did i get jealous, is that why i am playing with my heart now? tell me; am i playing, is this a game? it is raining again, have i chosen to wrap myself in games this fall? tell me; where is my deep black shawl?
2011-10-09
not october, not a poem
walk with me under the november rains; the calender lies, it is not october. kiss me through dark waterfalls, flowing dreams; we are kissing eyedrops.
i will take my shoes off, cage my heart in your chest,suck november with bare feet; rain shall pump through me, it's yours.
my fingers are as white as the bathroom tiles, clutching with the might of thunderstorms. nevermind the bloodshed; skin breaks and heals. the scratches, the stains, the raw red of fear wash away in the tub of timewinds.
i am awake; november rains.
i have never slept; november pours.
it is the child mother bore that pushes and pulls.
i will take my shoes off, cage my heart in your chest,suck november with bare feet; rain shall pump through me, it's yours.
my fingers are as white as the bathroom tiles, clutching with the might of thunderstorms. nevermind the bloodshed; skin breaks and heals. the scratches, the stains, the raw red of fear wash away in the tub of timewinds.
i am awake; november rains.
i have never slept; november pours.
it is the child mother bore that pushes and pulls.
2011-10-03
i have been waking up restless and confused for so long, i have forgotten how it felt to be calm and focused. it was easy to get out of bed this morning, reality didn't hurt. i had a hum in my breath before my feet hit the carpet, and the mirror was waiting with a good morning smile. i get lost and forget me far far away sometimes; thankfully i am my own cat, i always make it back.
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