i had a dream we were at a beach resort, or something, celebrating my birthday. and in the swimming pool there were two giant squid (kraken?) and i had to keep warning people to stay out of the pool and stay so far back from the edges because the tentacles had unbelievable reach. there was a long table with place markers on it with all the party attendee's names on them and just as i noticed "bill murray" was on one of the cards he appeared looking very disshevelled and uneasy. i sensed that he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be at my party with the giant squid and so spent a long time trying to help him calm down and relax and stay, because, hey, who does't want to celebrate their birthday with bill murray? he kept saying he wanted to walk around the resort and find a girlfriend and i was worried if he did he wouldn't come back. so i kept distracting him and finally he said, "well then will you be my girlfriend? i need a girlfriend." and before i could tell him no he started to french kiss me, with misha right beside me! i kept half-pushing him away and saying, no, but he kept coming in for more kisses. finally i said, "bill, look, i'm married and right now, at least, we are not open to having other people romantically. but i do have a girlfriend for you...my mom!" he looked really disappointed and said, "your mom, huh?" and i said, "yeah, look. she's really cool, super sporty, funny and sweet. you'll love her!" and he looked all dejected and said, "yeah, i'm sure i will." but then he walked away and it was just me, misha and the giant squid left.

later on, or maybe in a different dream, i was under some kind of obligation to pen a really excllent poem in a certain time frame. but everything that came from my fingers was complete crap. i couldn't think of a single interesting image to describe.

pale glassy hair, spun sugar
bleach bone fingertip, sun monger

oceans for blood, moons for eyes
moss and grass, her single disguise.

when he sleeps all the lines smooth away from his face and i see the boy i fell in love with tangled in our old quilts and snoring softly.
the moment i focus on the shadowy stubble forming on his cheeks and chin is so poignant my body feels hollow,

ready to recieve his breath.

in watery morning sunlight i feel so in love with the sleeping man that i stroke his arm, and squeeze the muscle, and bite his neck.
groggy, "what was that for?" i nuzzle into his heated armpit; whisper, "to let you know you're not dreaming."

rough

i will not allow my body to suffer any longer.

a manhandled baby girl, barely three when he touched me.
a mind ravaged by watching my mother fall under the beatings dealt by
every man we ever lived with.
a volatile teen trying to make the scene
too fat to have the boyfriend i really wanted,
starved into roller rink fainting fits
puking into bar toilets, fake id falling on tile
struggling among sadists, and rapists, and the evil faces of highschool girls.
pregnant at 16 and miscarrying at 17 and the boy who made it happen lied about loving me.
suicide attempt,
promiscuity,
veneral disease and the doctor's distaste as he wrote the rx.
i went to bed drunk with an ex, and he turned my beautiful 19 year old breasts black and blue
my first abortion - the nurses looked at me like the highschool girls did,
the doctor took money from me to keep it off my medical record.
i took morphine and speed
acid, and mushrooms.
i drank til i threw up, night after night, and laid silent under men
while they lied about loving me.
i gave up the ghost to my husband and he fought my demons with me.
at once, my ravaged flesh was kissed, my torn-up mind soothed
my body rehabilitated, smoothed over, and made fertile
growing children in my womb and out they came
my breasts astounded me
making milk
and babies grew to sturdy children.
now i dress this body as well as i can, and keep it clean
now i feed it what it asks for,
i watch it grow softer and lower
i see small lines appear
around my eyes and mouth.
soon my hair will be grey
and i will be untouchable,
and you would never know how ravished this old body has been
by time, and this and that
by him and her
by them and you,
by me.
i'll live untouched and grateful for it.

i am going to run away in bare feet and let my hair grow wild;
i'll never comb it or wash my face.
i'll learn to hunt and listen for water and i'll grow my nails long.

trees and i will sing the same songs to stars and nightbirds alive or dead.
and in the dark when wolves howl alongside us
i'll sleep, not fear.

i'll nurse my wounds with grey-green moss let my eyes grow mild.
no cups to hold my river water
my mouth below the surface will gulp and frighten fishes there.

and when it rains i'll cry too; in every drop reflected four times.
facet one: i was small. facet two: i was mother.
facet three: i was hurt. facet four: i cried with you.

dirty

i hit the dream jackpot. naked hot tub party with a big crush of mine. he got too hot in the tub and stepped out and kind of leaned back on his elbows. his body is so long and lean. he's at least 6'2 or 6'3". the air was full of steam and it was rising off his body in waves and i climbed out too and just kind of straddled his lap and said, "let's pretend to have sex." (i know! pretend? dream me is so weird.) and he said, "ok!" and so we were doing this thing where we were kissing but not touching our lips to each other and running our hands over one another's body's without making contact and it was very hot and very, very strange. now i want to try it with someone.

we had gone camping at the base of a mountain, i think out on the similkameen river. the time was the present and it was cold, a light dusting of snow on the ground, and getting colder. the day was grey. misha took the kids on an afternoon hike and i used my time alone at the campsite to sit back in my camping chair, keep warm by the blazing fire, and smoke some reefer. the woods around me were completely still, the river was rushing by in a muted roar and tiny icy flakes of snow were falling all around me. it felt perfect.

suddenly, a cop car pulled up next to our van. i panicked and tried to nonchalantly hide the weed and the pipe but there really was nowhere for them to go without it looking very conspicuous; so i decided to just put them under my chair, and act cool. the cop got out of his cruiser and walked directly over to me.

"hey," he said.

"hello, officer. is there some problem?"

"no, no problem. i met your husband up on the road there. he mentioned you'd be here." i waited for him to volunteer more information but he was just looking all around the campsite as though he'd lost something. he looked a little like the farmer out of the movie "babe". finally he glanced under my camping chair and spotted the stash.

"ahhh," he said, grinning and rubbing his hands together in near-glee.

"oh, uh, uh..." i stuttered, as he reached below me and pulled the pipe and baggy out. "i...uh...uh..."

he just looked at me and shook his head. i was sure i was busted. to my shock, however, he opened up the baggy and loaded himself a huge bowl of weed. i sat there with my mouth agape, watching the cop toke it up with my stash. after he'd had a few hits he said, through a lungful of smoke, "misha said it'd be cool. it's cool, right?"

my mouth still hanging open i nodded mutely at him. he coughed and tried to pass me the pipe but i held up my hand and just shook my head. "no. no thanks," i replied. "i never touch the stuff."

at that point, misha returned to the site and he and the cop had a couple of laughs, clapping each other on the shoulder. the cop said, "hey, thanks a lot, meesh." misha nodded and the cop continued, "i just wanna warn you guys, environment canada says a massive arctic front is moving in. it's going to drop in temperature another fifteen or twenty degrees in the next day. you won't be warm enough out here. you'd better head home. the whole of the lower mainland is going to freeze over."


suddenly we found ourselves on the 30th floor of a highrise in downtown vancouver, overlooking the entire city. the cop had been right. everything was coated in a thick crust of hard ice. the streets were deserted and everything was silent. we stood on the balconey and inhaled the subzero air, astonished.

"look," misha said, pointing at the harbour, "the ocean..."

it was frozen solid. the sky was an ominous grey. i was shivering and wanted to go inside. just as i turned, i saw something coming towards us, through the air. i did a double take when i realized it was a dolphin, flying directly at us, tail down and head up, using it's flippers to propel it forward, and it's tail to steer. it was making a clicking noise as it approached.

"what. the. fuck." i said, tugging misha's sleeve and pointing at the dolphin. it was only a few meters away. misha stared too, agape.

the dolphin came right up to the balconey and i reached out to touch it's cold and rubbery nose. it prodded my hand back and beeped at me playfully. misha was laughing and saying, "i guess because the ocean froze, the dolphins had to learn to fly!" i was simply astonished and moved by what was happening. i held my arms out to the dolphin as if it hug it. it moved into my embrace and i held it tight, like a baby. i wriggled in my arms as though it never wanted to leave and i hauled it over the edge of the balconey and then misha hugged it too and we stood there for a long time, nuzzling it and trying to warm it up. it didn't seem to want to leave, but i felt that if it didn't find some unfrozen stretch of ocean soon there were going to be problems.

"we have no fish, we have no salt water," i was saying to misha.

"the tub," he said, "we'll fill it. and we can go buy some tuna. it will work."

i pondered this for a few minutes.

"ok," i said, doubtfully, and pressing my forehead up against the chattering dolphin's nose. "but the dog is gonna be so jealous."

i was laying on a sidewalk looking up at the trees and sunny autumn sky and a skunk came trundling out of the bushes from the house i was laying in front of and crawled on top of my body and nuzzled me sweetly, and when i pet her, she purred, and i thought to myself that the stink wasn't really so bad once you breathed it for a while.

your to do list

lover, i am drowning not waving.
please take my hand
lift me up
dry my hair
kiss my forehead
dress my scraped knees
make me tea
read me poems
tuck me in
and love me still
in five thousand mornings.

i had a dream i was in some kind of race. at the beginning of the race i was told that because i had "certain advantages" i had to compete on my hands and knees instead of on my two feet. it was a long course, that started on a steep grassy slope, involved going up into a multi-tiered treehouse and down again, through mud and brambles, woods and rocky beaches. every part of the course had it's challenge. the grassy slope was so steep that i ended just tumbling directly down it, hurting myself. the treehouse was built for children and i had trouble fitting in the doors and boards and ropes were breaking under my weight. my competitors were all passing me with ease, smaller, lighter, faster, and on their feet.

i was crying once i got to the bottom of the tree again, knowing that i'd been set up to fail. i tried to move through the mud but my legs stopped working with the force of my sobbing, so i lay in it, my cheek against the wet muck, people's feet slopping past me and spraying me until i was coated. spiderman appeared and held out his gloved hand to help me. i took it and he said, "just get up, christa. what are you doing? get on your feet."

i balked as he started to pull me upright. "i have to do the race on my hands and knees," i said.

he shook his head. "you were the one that set this race up, girl, months ago! you invited everyone to play and you set the rules. everyone else is following your lead. why did you tell yourself you had to crawl while everyone else ran?"

more people sloshed by us, spattering more mud on my face and body. i suddenly felt more depressed than i ever had before in my entire life. spiderman let go of my hand, and waited a moment, looking down at me expectantly. then he shook his head, as though i were a lost cause, and ran on by himself.

dear christa

You could have knocked me over with a feather
But you used your hips instead
And I lay there on the gravel thinking
(oh ho - but not with my head)
Among all the lies I tell myself
Every morning I wake and put the clock on the shelf,
The worst is "One day I'll be free
Of the terrible awakening she caused in me."

See, what was woken can no longer sleep in peace
Though you bruise it with neglect
I never mind, I count out time
And curse, and crick my neck.
And read every word you write in space
They read like stars falling all over my face
And hoping but knowing your love thrives just fine
In rocks and through seas that maybe aren't mine.

(love, j)

free hugs

in my dream, i was giving out free hugs in front of my farmer market stall. i was holding the big sign, and people were coming in droves to try bites of cookies and hug me.

then you appeared and my heart skipped a beat, as it always does, awake or asleep. you stood in the line for hugs and free samples and when it was your turn you refused the free sample and just put your arms around me. i smelled you, felt your warmth, buried my face in your neck, felt your hairline against my forehead. you hugged me until the person in line behind you tapped you on the shoulder and reminded you others were waiting. you moved, almost kissing me but not, and i hugged the next person. and the next, and the next. some would take the free sample of cookies first, some waited until after, and no one was buying. but everyone was walking away happy. after i hugged a little old lady i thought was my gramma, you were there in front of me again, having stood in line for a long time for your second chance. again, i fell into your embrace, longing so much for more than this, knowing that once free hugs were over, that would be it, we were finished until the next time circumstances allowed us our moments together. your hands moved slowly up and down my back, fingers dipping into my hair, a finger sliding along my ear. i felt your chest move up and down with your breathing, and the warm cotton of your t-shirt was soft against my cheek.

the person in line behind you coughed politely, and you reluctantly let go. i offered you another sample, and you refused, again. i was blushing and we waved goodbye. the line-up was longer this time and i felt moved by the numbers of people coming in just for hugs from me. i did not feel tired or put-upon, every contact made was energizing and beautiful. sometimes people would hug me almost absentmindedly even though they'd stood in line for several minutes just to do it. they'd be chewing their sample of vegan cookie or talking distractedly to their friends. i got one-arm hugs, and loosey-goosey hugs. i got a very tight hug from a small woman who was crying and i patted her hair and said, "there, there." and as she walked away smiling through her tears, there you were again, standing in line, waiting for me, again.

this time i laughed out loud and didn't blush. we went through the motions. i tried to offer you a free sample, you refused, saying you were only here for the hug. i put my arms out, palms up, inviting you in, and you came forward. at the first moment of torso contact i felt something give in my chest and i started to cry. then it was you patting my hair, while i watched fat drops fall from my cheeks onto your t-shirt shoulder and make dark spots. your mouth moved to my ear and said, "you might love me, you know."

my whole body tensed up with the words, and then i relaxed again, and replied, "i know i might."

my heart is a caramel apple dipped in rum
and i know you want a taste.
the gift-wrapping:
red cellophane, golden velour bow
is unneccessary, i know,
but the game we play has rules.
to win, say the word love
with that hungry voice i've heard.
i'll unwrap,
and we'll both be happy,
in a candy apple glaze.

i was in a basement room with someone i'm sweet on. we were looking through my mom's old LP collection: king crimson, zappa, the beatles, zeppelin. he asked if the turntable there worked, and i said, "i'm pretty sure, but the needle might need replacing."

suddenly he was gone and i was left standing there holding a "bay city rollers" record. the light changed from table lamps to a bare swinging bulb. i heard water dripping and looked up. the walls and ceiling had been wallpapered over but up in the corner the paper had a little pinhole and drops of water were coming out. "shit, we have a leak from that toilet upstairs," i thought, and went over to investigate. as i did, another leak sprung through. "damn," i said. then another leak. then another. i finally called up the stairs, "leon! can you bring down some pots or something?"

"what?" was his reply, irritated.

"there are leaks down here, i need pots and pans to catch them!" i shouted. i was getting close to the wallpapered wall and ceiling and noticed it was bulging and looking thin. against my better judgement i poked at it and was shocked at how easily it gave way, the way my finger slid right in. i pulled it out and a gush of water flowed out. the hole i'd made weakened the rest of the wallpaper and more and more spots were wearing through, water pulsing out, all over, splashing on the cement floor, on my mom's LP collection, over my bare feet and the cushions me and my sweetheart had been sitting on. i started to panic a little and climbed up the stairs backwards a few steps, watching the basement flood, calling, "leon, leon hurry!"

suddenly the lights went out completely, both upstairs and down. leon was stomping through the hallway at the top of the stairs, swearing, "fucking lazy bitch. get your own fucking pans. i'm not your fucking gopher. FUCK." i started crying there, on the bare wooden stairs, in the dark, cold water swirling up around my ankles.

"leon, please!" i shouted, too afraid to move in the dark. i craned my head around to look up through the dark doorway and saw his silhouette standing there. he wasn't swearing anymore, but he was taking off his work jacket, and saying, "fine, but YOU better fucking be the one to bring it back up." he hurled the balled up jacket at me through the dark. i tried to cry out that it wasn't his coat i needed (though i did suddenly figure out i was naked), but pots and pans, to catch leaks. i tried to dodge the coat, and the movement sent me rolling off the stairs, head over heels, and into icy black water.

i've dreamt about you every night. sometimes you are bringing me presents. sometimes we are just laughing in the kitchen holding beers. sometimes we are kissing. last night, we were in the backseat of someone's car, mystery person driving us who-knows-where. i was sad, curled up against the door, head resting on the window, trying to sleep. i think we were running away. you were holding my hand softly. sometimes you would touch my hair or cheek. you kissed the knuckles on my first two fingers. i was crying and afraid but your tenderness saved me from utter despair.

i could tell you small details about yourself that you would think went unnoticed

your cavalier mouth opening to finish off a glass of wine, mid-laugh
the adam's apple bobbing in an olive throat as you swallow, smooth shave
and the thoughtful way you mingle its tannins with the shiny mint
gloss i left on your lips as a kiss hello.

a crisp white cuff rolled over tanned forearm, tendons moving
and fingers lingering above certain piano chords, head bent
low in lost thought, short black hairs on the back of your neck raised
at my breath, fuming with liquor, and clinging to your body.

the blackfall of your eyelashes over pupils, lowered gaze
and smile lines deepening in response to my conspiratorial whispers
the conchshell swirl of your ear accepting all my unabashed promises
and the faint traces of your fingerprints causing friction under my skirt.

every layer of scent on your body: light cologne, fresh soap, pheromone
that unconcious sound you make over and behind me in our darkened room
every ripple in your body's muscles, a flexing loin, sheets in fists
your deep, soft cry. an out-of-mind overflowing declaration: in love, in love.

i see little boy you and old man you and all points between, in pale morning light
with your breathing in, and out, and an arm cast lazily against the headboard
your chest sunken in dreams, belly up, belly down
i rest my cheek there, count the dark hairs. my wrist white, your hip brown.

hotel room

hotelroom

it's one a.m and the clock numbers are blue, not red
flashing, not still
and the windows to the room
are blacker than night
a picture of pitch
a maw in wallpaper
textured art deco.



hotelyou.

i woke up to a breath unfamilliar, not unpleasant
hot, not a smell
and the pillow case on my cheek
was stiffer than starch
a crispy paper
a glow in my ear
fresh dis-ease.



hotelme.

i remember coming around, not from sleep
drunkenness, not giddy
and my head felt heavier than my body
loagier than luggage
a stuffed rock
a sloshing in my helmet
gurgling decisions.



hotelus.

your hands bigger, but not more than my breasts
observation, not comparison
and you moved slower than my husband
older than both of us
a gentle patron of discontent
a father figure
conjuring satisfaction.



hotelstay.

it's four a.m and your face is blank, not dreaming
mouth open, not speaking
and i hear a word in my head
discussing our engagement
a hint of disapproval
a smirk of satisfaction
slipping into cabs.



hoteldawn.

what i want is not rational

passion (not anger)
tranquility (not boredom)

sweetness (not saccharine)
gentle (not soft)

teeth (not bone)
seeing (not perspective)

rushing (not hasty)
secrets (not lies).

last night i dreamed i was at this outrageously fancy wedding, with no kids or husband. and at the table where i was seated was matthew mcconaughey. we were having a pleasant chat all through the meal and he kept pouring me glasses of wine. finally it was time to get up and dance and he asked me if i would dance with him. of course i said yes, but i was nearly sloppy drunk and apologized to him in advance for my terrible dancing skills. he laughed and took me in his arms and we started moving to the music, real ballroom-type stuff. i had on this long, rich scarlet red and gold dress with fairy sleeves and bare shoulders. he was in a simple tux. as we dnanced i started asking him questions about his work and life and he said something like, "nothing prepared me for meeting someone like you, christa". and i blushed and said, "i could have danced with anyone here tonight, you know!" and he said, "well, why did you pick me, then?" and i said, "because i always pick the celebrities that i know like to smoke the most pot," to which he laughed and laughed. after a few songs i asked him about hollywood weddings and how many of them seemed to be PR stunts or marriages of convenience and he agreed that that did seem to be the case with most. suddenly i was overtaken with a drunken case of the vapours so strong i excused myself to the ladies room, which was more opulant than even the fanciest hotel room i'd stayed in. i lay on a long blue velvet couch and closed my eyes for just a moment. when i opened them again, i realized i had been a fool to leave matthew mcconaughey alone out there, when he had seeemed so into me, and so many of the other women at the wedding had seemed so into him. i got up in a panic to rush back out, but when i pulled the door open i saw through the crack that several mobsters had stormed the reception, and most people had cleared out. these two gorrilla men were walking around the reception hall with baseball bats and metal rods and chasing two other mobster-type guys. matthew mcconaughey was standing by the door leading out, his face bloodied, using his knuckles to wipe it off his upper lip, looking at the blood briefly, and then turning his attention back to the violence at hand. i was trapped, the fight was happening between me and matthew mcconaughey and the exit. he spotted me and made a hand motion like, "what are you doing? come on, come on!" i swallowed hard, took a deep breath, waited until the two mob guys with the bats and rods were busy beating on the other two mob guys again, and ran for it. matthew mcconaughey caught me in his arms at the other side, and we burst through the doors to the parking lot. he was laughing and bleeding on my dress. i mashed my mouth against his and he pulled away quickly and said, "uh, christa? i don't know if you know this, but...i'm gay."

i'm in a large, old, drafty, unfamilliar house. it's late afternoon or looks like it by the light filtering in through the smeary windows. i hear a man's voice, ominous, coming from one of the upper rooms in the house and another noise that sounds awful and wet. i find a staircase and start climbing it, and his voice gets louder and deeper and i realize he's chanting bible verses. i find the room he's in, the door is open a crack already, and i kick it all the way open. he is standing there with a bible in one hand, held out as though he is at the pulpit, and he's chanting and chanting in a booming voice. in his other hand, he is crushing the throat of a small girl - maybe three years old. she is only hanging there, limp, though from the wet choking noises she's making i can tell she is still alive. i lunge at him, surprised to see i have a large rock in my hand already, and just as i get close enough to brain him with it, i realize the girl is me.

wake up from the noise of me shouting in my sleep.


later in the morning i dream i am in the livingroom and the dog is barking to be let in from the deck. i open the door and she won't come in, and seems focused on the area underneath our patio doors. when i lean down i see that some kind of animal has chewed some holes there and crawled into our walls. it is still busy at work, in fact, and bits of wood dust are wisping out of the holes as i watch. i step back inside and call leon to come see. he emerges from the basement and as we stand on the deck to see if it's rats or not, we discover it is in fact two old mangy cats. they crawl out of the holes they've dug in our home and stare at us. one is black and white and has medium-length fur, all matted and patchy. the other is a grey and white siamese-cross, and as i look closer at it i see that it is probably blind. suddenly the dog lunges at the cats, viciously. we are shocked as one cat retreats back into the hole but the dog manages to grab the blind siamese and begins shaking it violently in her mouth. the cat makes no noise but i'm screaming at leon to make the dog let the cat go. he says, "i don't know. there's something creepy and wrong with those cats." i keep screaming, "make her drop it! make her drop it!" and finally he makes a move to grab the dog by her collar, but it's too late. the dog rips the cat's head completely from it's body.

wake up again from the noise of me shouting in my sleep.

the worst married couple in the world

she made such a huge fuss in the mornings, the pots and pans having nothing to do with tea
still yowling and when pressed she would make-up her stories
and batches of pancakes:
whole grain.

the entire while this would happen and he would hover tentatively, forever in the way
and frustrating, but never near enough to solve her problems
or to stir the batter:
left lumpy.

she could love him in her strange way, her body uncertain but wanting to yield
an affront to liberation, torn between respect for herself
and release of shame:
simple tears.

but he never managed to find the way through that complicated morning maze she wove
angry for her mother's disdain and taking it out on dishes
clawing at the taps:
howling inside.

in wafts and tendrils his body moved away, quiet but still reassuring her in backward glances
(how can damage be undone in its making, he wondered)
and in free (stolen) moments:
found solace.

three hours ago:
scurrilous kisses left burn marks on my mouth; ribald love left bruises on my heart.

you creeping around my windows on rainy sunday afternoons, sniffing around my skirt resulted in
a crime of opportunity: war on my willing thighs.

you thief of sighs! your minimalist meetings, your condensed feelings,
remind me of someone i knew
a spring ago.

we went to catch tadpoles today

but there was a fence around the pond

with a sign that said:

"please don't catch the tadpoles, even with the intent to release them. the frogs are all endangered, which threatens all the herons.

and when the herons are gone what animal will thrill you with it's visage

standing in the muck-filled ditches on the sides of the freeway

while you speed past

crushing insects under-tire?"

i will not hold you

i will not hold you
to thick promises made
in secret compartments
dark
and full

unless the world somehow expanded within
and we found our feet
touching shyly, surprised to be
bare
and smooth.

i will not hold you
to sweet declarations made
in imaginary courtrooms, oaths sworn
indignant
and false

unless my dreams flew out-of-mind
and beat this reality down
so that lips and fingertips would flow
fast
and sparkling.

i scrawled confessions of my love all over an empty, crumpled box of cornflakes, with a black sharpie marker. over the course of the next few weeks, it migrated slowly around to behind the computer monitor, forgotten garbage. you came over one day, and in your search for a particular cd, found the box and read the confession, while i prepared tea and a tray of biscuits. my heart filled my throat as i walked in the room and caught you reading it. the tea pot chattering on a tray, cookie crumbs falling from the corners of my mouth. you looked at me like you already knew and wanted to set a date. i stuffed the cornflakes box in the trash can, and then i hid behind the fine bone china tea cup, smiling in release. words aren't real until someone else reads them.

i know what i want

you asked what i would like (not with your words but with your eyes) and i told you with a secret handshake these few things:
one (1) large chocolate milkshake with two (2) straws so we (two) can share
a single (one/1) hand of yours in mine still cold from the condensation on the glass as we walk five (.....) or six (******) blocks
to a warm room furnished sparsely in early salvation army decor
3 (three) hours on a threadbare chesterfield and those same three (3) hours spent with my head in your lap
(looking ceilingward, dirty bird)
while you read several (more than one) chapters from a book we (2) both love
and seven (lucky) kisses placed
on my (single) pair of eyes
the corners (2) of my mouth
the hollow (0) at the base of my throat
and the rest where you will.
once i was finished with telling you this (silent in that sea of hundreds) you said something else:
five (5) fingers slipped from mine
eyes (two) fell from gazing heavenward (into mine)
back to earth (sticky floors)
and lips (2) that moved "yes", but when your body (singular) slipped away
you said you were going (somewhere else) to
rest where (with who) you will.

will you give me what i want? an armpit to put my face in - wet cheeks - a dark scented place to cry? will you open your arms when my mouth bows down before you, a watershed of everything pent up in me, glass and wire, anger and fear? will you pat my hair when i do good or hold my face to keep me centered when i am falling out of touch? will you smack me out of love? will you kiss me when you hate the way i talk to you, just to shut me up? will you pull my hair when i ask you to, harder when i say harder? will you hold my hand while i am driving on the freeway, crying, away from the last place that dealt me a blow, even if it meant i would swerve, and scare you into thinking we were going to hit the median? and when we do, and your car is wrecked, will you laugh with me about the blood coming from my forehead after smacking it on the steering wheel and make up cockamamie stories with me about avoiding a french drunk driver, to sneak out of higher insurance rates?

will you put the kids to bed at a decent hour and will you find my peppermint foot cream and will you rub it in secret spicy places? will you work me up just to bring me down again or will you leave me behind while you travel on? will you smell my hair or any part of me when i have been hiding in a blanket cave for a week, nursing wounds you had no part in causing? will you let me fall on you, drunk, at 3am and stinking of cigarettes i'll deny smoking? will you take my kisses both chaste and sloppy and never pretend at your feelings? will my random passion scare you or pull you together, will the way i eat annoy you, will you know that when i use my foot to slam the toilet seat down in the middle of the night it means i've fed up of you leaving it up on me, will you help me put on gloves when my hands are trembling too hard in the snow, will you bring each cup of coffee as you would have an engagement ring and will you melt when my eyes swell with gratitude for small things? all small things, are they important to you as they are to me? will you find meaning in my prepositions, will you make up dreams about us, and write them in your secret online journal to your friends you've never met? can i be your pretend girlfriend even when i am your real girlfriend? can we have stories and drama and can we have long boring nights with reruns on the tube? will you let me take pictures of your body, all over, and will you show me your favourite things to do with playing cards?

when we're camping will you come with me to pee in the woods in the middle of the night, holding the toilet paper roll and shining the flashlight where i tell you to? will you help me rub anti-itch cream on the mosquito bites on my ass? will you scream if i catch my hair on fire but then when it's out talk about how cool it looked when it first went up and help me make blue flame from hairspray? will you go through my things and throw away the pictures i never talk about but you know that i hate? will you think i look beautiful, in the middle of the night, and my mouth is twisted in pain and my body is betraying me and my mascara turns my face to decay? will you fall down with me and scrape your knees and stay down, while i bleed beside you, counting blades of grass, and the ants i killed in my descent?

will you tell me what to do with myself when no one else can? will you cage me, but let me free when i need it, and will you lead or follow? and can you?

i dreamed i was in a beautiful black and grey marble bathroom. it was huge, the size of my bedroom or bigger. the lights were dim, and the giant tub was a jaccuzzi and burbling and sizzling and candles were burning and it smelled like rich dark scented oils and i was in nothing but my panties, preparing to get in the bath. it was summer's night, the window was open, dark green curtains blowing in a gentle breeze, and i had had a few snorts of brandy, with another perched on the solid edge of the tub, waiting for me. i was perfectly alone.

then the curtain blew a little harder and noise came in, the noise of a public swimming pool packed with teenagers. i tried to ignore it (as if it were an inconsequential fly buzzing around me) and move into the bath, my back to the window, my big ass barely covered by my underwear, and then i heard the unrelenting and evil braying laughter of teenaged boys. i still tried to ignore it but i realized i did not, at that point, feel comfortable taking my underwear off anymore. i started to climb in the tub with it still on, and the laughter got louder and more insistant and meanspirited but i tried to tell myself it wasn't directed at me, it wasn't directed at me, it wasn't directed at me. but then i was in the tub, and sank into the water that was only a moment ago so inviting but now felt like nothing but a way to hide, and turned to the window, and the boys were there looking in, wearing their cute little surfer shorts over their chiseled and tan bodies, pointing at me in my lumpy mostly-nakedness, laughing in derision and disgust.

and i put my face up to the dark marble ceiling and howled in pain and sadness. it woke leon up.

broken hearts are for jerks

i ran backwards through the morning;
from toast to coffee
from slippers to bare feet
from shafty light through slatted blinds
to sunset at 6am.
i stilted moved,
impossible robe flutter
from arms to floor
and body turning
down to bed
and head to pillow
and hand to heart
and eyes to closed.
breath deep to shallow
dreams rage to stillness;
in backwards morning i run
you are for the finding,
you are for the having.

small

all i ever wanted was to be
small
and cared for, watched after, worried about
and every shoulder
open to me
and every hand
in my hair
all i ever wanted
was to be
small.

small to fit in the crook
small to fit in the palm
small to fit in the heads
of angels
small to fit
in a candycake dress
sugar dumpling
frosted face

all i ever wanted was to be
small
and safe and tucked in and mused over
and every eye
blinking for me
and every nose
in my letters
all i ever wanted
was to be
small.

small to sneak in windows
small to sneak in hearts
small to sneak in beds
of lovers
small to sneak
in a smoothline tussle
slick shouldered
hair puller

all i ever wanted was to be
small
and wanted
in my smallness.

i had a dream last night that i had to take the kids to this other kid's birthday party that was being held in a partially underground bunker that was filled with mud. i mean, mud up to my waist. there were two picnic tables, one for kids to sit at and one for grown-ups to sit at. it was terrible trying to slog through all the mud and get to the tables, made worse by the fact that laurel couldn't walk through it at all because she is so short she would have been submerged. it didn't matter, we were all completely covered in gunk by the time we made it. there was nowhere to wash our hands and i was very worried about the children having to eat food with mud all over it. i think the birthday kid was having some kind of monster truck show party, and everyone was really excited, and the other parents didn't seem bothered by the mud. but i was bothered, oh yes.

noah

laundering poetry through his guitar
he used each delicate morsel i threw his way
to repair a rung on a ladder
that was crumbling in age.

i thought of him as i thought of my tricycle:
young, for youth, and distant; a patina
that never allowed my fancy
to shine beyond a pixel, or few.

how surprising to find in the winter sunlight
each bound kiss and holding hand
stirred curiousity that until now was only
fleeting technological fun.

his patient ministration, his minstrel-ations
patched hairline crack after splintered rung
until the ladder, more solid than before,
supported his weight.

and when he put down the guitar
and he started to climb, hand over hand,
i teetered at the top, warming in winter,
surprised to realize: i was waiting.

last night i dreamed we were face-to-face
and you would bestow upon me firm-lipped kisses
one after the other.
i would try to make you pause in each embrace
force your lips to remain
against mine
bite, slip of the tongue, breath
hands on cheeks
eyes locked
and none of it worked.
my heart was so filled with longing
and sadness
it grew to magnificent proportions
a pain, an unnerving pain
in head and chest
as you laid empty kiss after empty kiss
upon my full lips
and my heart burst in their wake
and i woke.

unfurled in all her longing and
hair done up in ribbons,
she moved through each moment
like fronds in the pool.
when questioned so thoroughly
her eyes cast (unwittingly)
spells through a mired mind
and devoured every last of your breath.
who could open umbrellas in wind or
in sun and who could put a single arm
around everyone, but the girl who
stole your last step from the dance?
in pearls of spring drops, she sees him again
and sink, oh sink, when her light shines away
from that puddle darkly forming
at the ends of your toes; all tears.
sink, oh sink, in deep utter shame
her mouth could move mountains
but she does not speak (or even look)
to the goats in the crags anymore.

i dreamed i was trapped in an abandoned mansion with endless halls and locked doors and boarded-up windows so there was no escape. i had two cats following me around, a ginger tabby and a white siamese. we got so hungry we had to eat hand lotion. it was from lush, and tasted exactly like it smelled. i was crying while i put it in my mouth and tried to swallow it.

i dreamed of my grandfather last night.

we were in a strange house, but i think it was mine. it was small and old but well-kept and beautifully furnished. everyone was getting ready for a big exciting party somewhere - maybe new year's eve. i was panicking because i felt like i had too much to do and not enough time, plus, my grandfather, who was supposed to be dead, was sitting on my big brown overstuffed velvet couch, and i really wanted to talk to him. he was simply dozing and waking up occassionally to watch television, much like he did on the second-to-last trip i took to ontario to see him before he died. anyway, i kept trying to put on make-up and screwing up with the colours and where it was going. by the end of my attempt to "do" my face i had purple eyeshadow all over my forehead and i was hating my hair (in fact, i really am hating my hair right now - the bangs and colour, anyway...) i also kept thinking of cds i had to take the party because the hostess claimed she didn't have any so i was trying to stuff my purse with them, and the food i wanted to bring. finally i managed to get almost everything together and everyone was waiting in a big truck outside for me. i was pulling on my boots and then i was rushing into the livingroom to say goodbye to grampa. it was then i realized that once i left for the party, he would vanish from my life again. so i tried to calm down and take my time, but it was hard, with people honking the horn at me and yelling for me to hurry up.

i took his big hand in mine. it felt cool and smooth and i saw the age spots. he was looking at me calmly through his big glasses. i told him i loved him and that i was sorry to be going. he put his arms around me and pulled me in close and spoke quietly in my ear. he said, "you don't have to worry about me. you have to worry about you, and your children, and your future grandchildren." he had me pressed up so hard against his body that my face was mushed into his shoulder and i started to cry. he continued talking, "all my life i felt i had to prove something to people and now i realize that the only obligation i had, really, was to think hard about what was right for my children and grandchildren, and fulfill that. all i had to do was do right by them. the rest of it didn't matter. and i wish i had done a better job at it, but i didn't, because i was working hard at other stuff, trying to prove things to the world. i didn't really enjoy doing a lot of the things that had to be done right by my children and grandchildren so i just didn't do them. don't make those mistakes. no matter how much you don't like it, if you know it is the right thing, you owe it to those beautiful kids to do it. you have an obligation." he kept talking like this for a long time in a very soothing and deep voice with me squished up against his boney body, and i kept crying into his shoulder, crying all my eye make-up off. it was like he was looking inside me and seeing how i have been feeling lately, so dark and depressed about my obligations that i am having problems fulfilling. i just cried and cried and cried. i woke up crying.