a single marigold, in the sky

you

have changed.

the sun looked onto your face.
but you are the same height and i
freeze because your scent is very old
older than the books by my bed.
older than the apartment, older than my world
which was a painful scrapbook project
trying desperately to cover you up.
but that night, i looked like a stray wet cat
and you were all the right kinds of beautiful.
even in my strangest dreams
your eyes never sparkle like here and now.

kaela

this is where the test is
in this moment, and no other ones
because a choice is singular:
in the moment of the choice,
where the ball may roll
any number of ways down the face of it
that is true freedom, but also true fear
big fear
a big test
a big moment.

kaela

i sat there with a broken nose
after you came home that last night
and we fought and i fell flat on my face
from one pint too many.

i sat breathless
i stared out the window
into the gemstone windows
all the clouds were heavy

i didn't realize
that the next time i'd see you
i was gonna be a stranger -
i would have cried a lot more

i miss you.

kaela

i am the mind i "am"
and not the mind i "have"
would you rather "taste" sugar
than "become" it?
having a thought is a tool
but it is not a reality
it is not a cosmic frame
the universe is not bound
by beautiful music
in harmonic separation
it is not the product
of seven perfect notes
and i don't care
for my imaginings of perfect
because plato was wrong
and philosophical death
is my true life.

kaela

i was looking at my coffee cup.
written on the white and palm-sized cardboard:
"dispose of properly"
and i pondered what that might mean.

maybe it's a word of caution
about parting ways
with something you've used right up
down to the filthy grinds
that sink to the bottom.

maybe they are brown crumbs of loss -
very much telling, if you're predisposed to listen -
telling of only one story, but told so well:
"we had a moment together, after i matured and self-brewed
and that moment will never die because it is death
and life and change, a never ceasing sea of difference
which only makes me think harder of you and i
and our inseparability.

you cannot leave me and so
be mindful and dispose of me properly."

kaela

i am still here... i just haven't been able to move my mouth in a way that makes sense. i suppose that's what's good about typing.

kaela

"in the beginning" i just smiled at you
we poured language into cups for each other
and became drunk with love and longing
i "separated darkness from the light"
so there would be a place for me in black
how could i be delivered if there was no blindness?
salvation seemed to hinge on my tears
so i cried until you noticed.
if he says to this mountain: "i love you"
it will cry in shame and cast itself "into the sea."

kaela

metaphysics slights me like an old lover
i am left alone with everything else material
all things finite, exacting such stark existence
i feel so lonely and sad, you used to care
but angels are made of photons and perfection
i'm a silly and tangled mess of dirt and blood
now sinews and water hold me together
but oh how they tear me apart.

kaela

some of us wonder if we should forgive
if there were a universal threshold for compassion
if we should punish; whether there is a choice
whether we should run or accept or change
some of us don't even consider it a possibility

paradoxical -

many times in my life i did not forgive
mostly because i wanted someone else to feel a measure of pain
in some secret way longing for understanding, for congruency
THIS IS HOW I FEEL. THIS IS HOW YOU HURT ME.
a yearning for such a perverted compassion.

forgive
forgive until your heart is empty!
then...
forgive EVEN MORE.

kaela

• i am eternal in my lover's arms.
  
• i saw a boy smile at me from across the tracks.
  
• i thought until i reached the causeless cause.
  
• i met a woman and we had such a good conversation.
  
• i crossed palestine in a caravan of forty thousand.
  
• i climbed a mountain.
  
• i saw the sky.
  
• i felt the world.
  
• i existed.
  
• i am.

a person writes, talks, thinks these things: i think god.
but when i say "god" does anyone think a series of these things?
a strange puzzle that the universe of discourse is not symmetrical
backwards, forwards, one way streets in mind
but less strange than sad, because if "god" is a bad word...
well if "god" is a bad word
i mean if "god" is a bad word
that is if "god" is a bad word
i just don't know what to say
so tell me it isn't

kaela