Tag Archives: dreams

all of my favorite distractions

there’s no madness like that in a writer
it’s nothing special, just a flavor
not quite like that in the unshowered man rolling
in the park grass shouting Jesus is the savior, he’s coming
for us all (but not distinctly
separate)
it’s different than the hundred hour work week or the plump
lipped, stretched faced surprise
of an aging beauty

the madness of the writer isn’t as open
it’s early mornings and drunken nights
dark eyes lit by a glowing screen, painstakingly
writing and rewriting a terrible, awful,
skill less story that no one will ever
read

the writer might as well try to spin gold
but there’s no cure. do you ever know
if you’re feeding the restlessness
or just lying beside it?

souls and enzymes

the other night i woke up to find a man
sleeping next to me. horrified, i realized
i was married
and the man was my husband.
then i was even more shocked

i forget
that i’m getting older.
i don’t know what to tell me –
the plan of having your first kid by 30
doesn’t seem like a good idea anymore
you haven’t achieved what you want to achieve
you don’t bake
the letter from Hogwarts isn’t coming and your love life
followed exactly along with each of Adele’s albums
that’s a comfort, actually, since she’s mad
she’s getting older, too.
you married well, at least,
much better than anyone expected
so it’s not all bad but
do better

my mom said she looks in the mirror and can’t
believe how old she is. the inside is still the same,
she tells me. in the ninth grade we did experiments
using the same enzyme over and over
Mrs. Defonso asked “what does that tell you
about the enzyme?” and we were shitty kids
so she had to tell us “it means the enzyme isn’t used
in the reaction!”

i don’t believe in destiny but
i do in souls and enzymes

reroute

even if it could be worse
especially
if it could be worse
questioning and seeking don’t make you
ungrateful. spit on that word.
spit as they blow it out in sighs about timelines
and inconveniences
trust your heart, even if you only hear it
on sunday nights, whispering that the most dangerous
place to be is ‘not so bad’

on following your dreams

for the love of God, do not follow
your dreams

chase the bastards down like they just hit you
with their car. tell dreams you want some damn answers
and if they won’t tell you
where they were last night and you waited
and ended up getting really drunk alone
throw dreams’ shit out the window!

then apologize, get dreams back, and get
to work. don’t let them
get away again