I just feel really happy. Not the kind of happy that will dissipate shortly, but happy as a state of being.

Mini golf at the lake

We appreciate
the bears turned into benches,
the wood frozen deer
and the stagnant ponds
filled with rotting leaves and golf-balls.

We were all naked, the stars and you and I
In the water people look gutless,
bobbing white logs of legs
and slick boned shoulders
My feet like the weeds
that float up, wrapping their fingers
around our bodies.

The sky must have been drunk
to expose itself so.
I wish the woods were emptier
We are full to the point of making miniatures
of a world that exists only to hit balls around

I want it to be only us and the loons
We could make our crazy calls together
Crashing through the trees instead of passively on stumps
The burrowers have it right,
a hiding that we have yet to accomplish.

We appreciate it,
but it's an imitation
of the empty place that we crave.

I tried to write five poems while at Dunn's tonight, but I wrote a few lines and then turned the page and tried to start again. I keep thinking that everything is articulate and defined in the way that nothing is really defined at all and that's how I want it to be, but nothing is articulate really. I am interpreting how I feel. The nice thing about bodies is they tell you when things feel right and my body keeps sending me mixed messages in that they aren't really mixed at all. This is why nothing comes out properly. That is making everything sound more serious than necessary.

I was working on a poem last night and then I spotted a centipede and had to leave the room. It might get finished eventually. I started work full time today. I have less hours than I thought I would, but any hours are good. I need something to fill the hours when I am not with people and my bike tire is deflated (again) so I can't even get new knitting needles like I need.

Nothing new to report. All is good here.

How are you?

For awhile during the school year I came up with this idea that we were all on our own individual planets and every so often we would join one another on one overlapping planet. Some people spend most of their time alone on their planet waiting for one specific person to join them. Others frequently communicate, and others still are a planet with rings of people floating around them that aren't really there. At the time this idea was reflective of my loneliness, but I still find it reflective of life, except now instead of being hurled somewhere deep in space, I am floating hsppily towards others.

I have been posting considerably less, which makes sense because it's summer and summer is a time for doing things, rather than lying in bed and writing blog posts. I've been doing a lot of thinking, something that is not abnormal for me. I like to think it's not abnormal for anyone. Are there people who don't think a lot? Even things I like I think about, I just think about them in a different way. Except for somethings, somethings I don't think about because it's just better not to. The summer has been strange and wonderful and confusing. Sometimes it is all of these things, sometimes it is only one of these things at a time. I like it best when it is all of them.

Regardless, being here is really nice.

It's nice in a way that's difficult to talk about because I like it so much and I was so unhappy in comparison during the spring.

Bonfire tomorrow.

A Chain Letter to my Loves

1.
You have a body
and I have a body
Let's have a body party
because these other names are lies.

2.
We are like male cats
on the street. They leave their piss stains
to mark their desires. The color yellow
makes us hungry.

3.
It is more sincere than I
can say.
So I don't say anything at all.

4.
This is too gutteral to make distinctions.
My last dog moaned when pet in the right spot.

5.
Most people are in love
with the idea of people in love with them.
I am in love with the idea
of being in love with you.

6.
I consider sending a chain letter
I am in love with you
and four other people.
Forward this to five people you love
Do not return to sender

7.
When I was thirteen I met a boy
from Canada while in the Bahamas.
I love him best.

8.
When you are a plurality
you are nicer.

9.
To say it meant nothing
would be a lie, yet this is what I do.
I like this subtle intertwining
that only means what I ascribe to it.
I have no use for the singular snowflake:
I am not a duck.

If I'm honest, just don't tell me you are laughing at me.

I waa going to write a post, but instead I want to write a poem about what I want to post and put that up instead.

I am thinking nonproductively. I believe this is called "thinking in circles." But you know, it's happy, optomistic thinking in circles.

Being near to people

I like it.

The Problem with Sundresses

I'm starting to think everyone is beautiful,
which makes this overabundance of legs difficult.
There's only two right? Two for each torso and each-
Legs are almost more difficult than shoulders
except when they are bare and back-faced.
They say that when someone touches your
hair, that means they life you, but
I think everyone is beautiful which means that
I should drop out of college and become a hair stylist
and dedicate my fingers to cutting with love
and dropping love all over the tiled floor
and sweeping it into a bag and this is why people used to make
jewelry out of hair, because they like people so much
they want to pin it to their chest.

But I can't tell you about how I want
to collect you between bristles, glue your golden strands
to a balloon and make you a sculpture.
The only thing I ever liked so much was human skin, sadly
the least sincere of all organs.
Maybe if it were like the liver it could process all this contact.
I think everyone is beautiful and so I should be indifferen to which skin,
whose skin, because I'm starting to think I like it equally well.

I need to rearrange my room in my mother's house. My first year of college she went through all of my stuff and moved my furniture without my permission and I never really got over it. She moved my bed to how it was when we first moved into the house, a place I had to change it from because I was scared of monsters and I couldn't see everything around me from where the bed was.

Anyone want to come and help move furniture?

But mostly home is lovely and I've been very happy, though not entirely satisfied, because when am I ever entirely satisfied?

What Summer Sounds Like (Wonderful)

You know, we could like, talk to each other.

Nah.

Let's play cards.

Okay.

There are too many legs in here.

I didn't have dinner.
-me either

You know, you could like, talk to each other.

Nah.

This is making my summer goals very difficult.

Yeah, I know.

I have a lot of things to say, but I am too sleepy to say them all and in the morning everything will sound silly.

I'm home, 'nough said. 'Nuff said?

My things have grown and multiplied since I've been at school. This is rather baffling to me. I am still excited to go home. My wallstrips are peeling the paint off. I am going to get charged. Oh well.