2.28.2010

#38


Judd and I drew this picture together
because we couldn't decide on a movie to watch,
or a book to read.

2.26.2010

#37



Cats in color is a whole new thing!

2.22.2010

#36


no one ever told him that he was going to look like a ghost forever.
he believed the translucence was temporary,
that his misty breath was only a sign of youth.
it wasn't bad though,
looking like a ghost.
it wasn't as bad as living
like a ghost,
where all he could ever feel was a breeze
under his sheet,
and two black holes behind his eyes.
no one saw him,
or they saw right through him
and it was like that from the day he was born,
always,
since the day he was born.

2.21.2010

#35


You thought that this bridge represented
the whole
of all things
you have ever been sad about:
people dying, people leaving,
your grandmother, your father,
your face,
the prospect of being alone for
the rest of your life.
You thought,
you thought,
as a cat looking back
before entering,
until you stepped on through
and nothing changed.

2.20.2010

#34


le finale
part 4:

Our final date was at the cemetery. It was my choice but if I had known it was going to be our last, I would have gone for sushi again. We sat at the grave of Emile Laroque because it was a French name, and I knew that it meant “the rock,” and for some reason I thought you were going to propose to me. Instead, you told me it wasn’t working out; you were unhappy. I said “goodbye,” and you left us there, Emile and myself. I patted the dry grass and looked at the picture on the floral wreath resting on the Frenchman’s headstone; oh how his face penetrated the black and white. I thought that if he were still alive, we could surely be together. He, unlike you, would already know French and would probably find my loom charming.


2.18.2010

#33


Part 3 of Falling out of Love:


I had never had sushi before this night. When we went into the city (I was wearing my green shoes that click on the pavement) I felt so worldly and sophisticated. The lights and traffic whisked around me and everything felt so wonderfully complex. I imagined that my life too was complex; I felt bright and wet, slick and carmine like the sashimi. I thought perhaps we had been drawn together by a common appetite, but I guess you weren’t as hungry as I thought.

2.17.2010

#32


Part 2 of Falling out of love:

Neither of us enjoyed hiking so instead we went for strolls in the national forest. This was when we found that large wash that was dry and sandy and I took off my shoes so that I could wiggle my toes in it. I wanted to take everything else off, I wanted you to see me naked but you had found this bone on the ground and you were not looking at me. "It's part of a jaw," you said, brows lowered, caressing it with your fingers. I stood behind you and made biting motions with my mouth;
I wanted to eat you up.


2.16.2010

#31


Double trouble,
sleeping cats.

2.14.2010

#30

Mi amore,
call me Dickens
and I'll write a novel about our love.
It will be long and verbose,
never attainable,
but highly sexual.

2.13.2010

#29

How can I write a love story when I have fallen so out of love with everything?

Part 1




That autumn was sunny but windy, which was so strange because it usually just rains. One Friday, you came to my apartment and we walked several times around the one room. I don’t think you noticed the layer of dust covering everything; I never would have brought it up. You stood in front of the window and looked at my loom for a long time and said that looms reminded you of your grandmother. I wasn’t ever sure what you meant by that because you were not smiling when you said it, but immediately afterward you held my hand.