My Middle Way

•January 13, 2014 • 8 Comments

Today I sit constricted
My waistband tied too tight
Until I sat down I had not noticed it
Digging into the forgotten flesh
Just below my belly button
But this time
I do not allow myself to fix it
I decide instead to feel it
An irritation around my middle
I hate this
I have always hated this
I have despised the soft center of me
Since I was 8 years old
I have rejected any sensation starting
From this spot
My entire being crawls away from it in all directions
Shattering me and scattering my pieces
I have always had a vague notion why I split
But today I simply feel it and let the thoughts in
And there it is

A memory as clear as the mark it left
HE used to grab me around my middle
HE used our childhood games
Of hide and seek
In a basement, dark and full of horrid hiding things
While the others hid, HE sought me out
HE would take me by my middle
Hauling me off with HIS giant hands
Encircling the entire middle of me
My flesh and guts a handle for HIS gripping

So this is why
I have punished and pounded and pulverized
This pound of flesh that lies
Between waist and once wasted space
This is why I crudely cut a giant jagged hole
And gladly let myself spill out
And happily filled it in with cold concrete
I have been terribly trying to loose his fingers
Trying to pry them off
The memory he buried
In the middle of me
I have been trying to reclaim my own geography
Violence for violence

NOW I return
NOW I am still, here
NOW I sit on solid ground, his hands are not around
NOW I hear the birds sing of safety
NOW after all of this restraint
I decide to forego formality
Before it is officially over
I move of my own accord, free
Not to fix with force but to find out for myself
To feel the spot where he used to handle me
To see if it still exists under there
And as my hands begin to move
The ending bell rings, allowing
Sounding as if to say to me

It is over
His grip is gone
Your center has returned
You may hold your own middle now

And so it is
And so it has
And so I do
Soft and gentle
I take myself in my hands
And I find
Only me

— A.R.

Woman Sitting 2

Woman Sitting artist unknown

Put Away

•January 12, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Calculating satisfaction
Putting possessions in their places
It never lasts
Days dripping past
Control devolving quite to chaos

–A.R.

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Painting by Giuseppe Crespi, 1665 -1737

Digging In

•January 12, 2014 • Leave a Comment

And needing nothing
Today I will bury myself in my art
Bawdy books and meaty music
Six feet under layers of history
Ancient minerals mixed with new
Tunneling of night
Crawlers without a light of any kind
Only in search of warmth of flesh
My movement my breath my life
There will be no separating
Brain from body roots from tentacles
They are all welcome
Because they approach by sense
Alone without eyes
By tonight my body will gladly be
Buried alive

— A.R.

buried_by_manuelestheim

Buried by manuelestheim from deviantART

Right View

•January 12, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Talk to me of possibility
And living life alive
Instead of letting life live me
No other lens but this
The rest imposed and make believe

— A.R.

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Forgotten Sunglasses by Vladimir Kush

Distracted

•January 12, 2014 • 2 Comments

When I try to close my eyes tonight
My face starts its swiveling
Counterclockwise
Or is it my body winding up
Dark red and wavering
Pulses in the liquid air around me
A human shifting form
From what into what and when
I cannot will not do not know
I have been distracted
So she has patiently lain in wait
For metamorphosis or progress
But now she turns to leave
Bored of me

I have heard it said
That once you think about making a decision
The decision has already been made
There is only the catching up
Of story to reality

Somebody please tell her to wait
I have decided
I am finally catching up
To me

— A.R.

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Distraction by Kaitlyn Mooney

Night Visions

•January 11, 2014 • 8 Comments

What wondrous nature I notice
When my bladder calls at night
Emptying

A full moon rising with me
Blue light cast down
Chilling

A clock tower through the trees
Me without my glasses
Fooling

A black bird atop a bare tree
Swaying in an ice storm
Balancing

A carnivore crow weighted carrying
A smaller bird in its beak
Struggling

Leafless sycamore black in winter
Mimicking depths of sea coral
Swaying

Houses cool with outward shadows
Windows lit warm randomly
Living

Smoke ascending from towers of brick
Fuel and wood and home fires
Burning

Me still inside pondering and empty
One day I will just be
Nothing

My window is but a thin pane of glass
Between me and everything dark
Outside existing

— A.R.

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Rooftops at Night by Stapleton Kearns

See Me

•January 10, 2014 • 2 Comments

I never said
I was perfect
Or even normal
I only ever claimed
To find occasional
Comfort, joy
With who I am
For now

–A.R.

20140110-153635.jpg

Photo from Black and WTF

I, Me, Mind (part 2)

•January 10, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Mind
A relay station
From sensation to story
I am starting to understand
When I sense it controls everything
Captured input turning into impulse
Impulse harnessed creating its charge
Fully charged and humming is possible

But injury would surely change my mind
Disrupt the direction of its conversion
Muddling receptivity and browning out
Or black if total failure would occur

But then there are rare moments
Switches I can control or flip
Process altered on a whim
Sorting signals myself

Another story started
Sparked by senses
Relayed by station
Of the mind

A.R.

Power Tower Elliot PPhoto of a power tower 
Elliot P

Love Letter, part 2

•January 9, 2014 • 3 Comments

My breath,
Two nights ago I sat down
Face to face with you for hours
I did not let myself think of time
I simply felt your arrival
Your departure
And because I did not float away
Or let go of you or become lost
I found a trust I have seldom known
Complete and total, giving over
Without prompt or warning
A voice whispered in my head
Telling me to trust my body
To let the pain that comes
Take care of itself
To let the fictions that fill the space
Show themselves and be gone
And I did, almost without will
I stayed with you
I let the rest of it pass that place
Not because I was told to
But because I chose to
I did not move
And in my stillness
Found affection and perhaps, regret
That we will not always be like this
There will be days, nights
That I forget
And one day you will leave me
My body will remain, for awhile
Cold and empty, slowly breaking down
Left alone, unknown
I do not know if I will miss you then
Or if I will simply be, nothing
But I think perhaps I miss you even now
Because it occurs to me so clearly
That I have lived so long not knowing you
And only just realized
All you have to show, to teach
If only I would find you face to face
My breath,
Today I sat down at the top of the stairs
In a pocket of warm air
And remembered you again
And wept

— A.R.

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Roman Statue Affection

The Mirror’s Edge

•January 8, 2014 • 1 Comment

How close can I get to me
When is my breath all that I see
Cold reflection crisp with lines
The space around me fills in time

When face to face at last I sit
And leaning toward my nose’s tip
Contact is made with mirror’s edge
Nothing sure but fog of breath

Leaning back some steam remains
Stories about me enter frame
Tactile trust intimacy
How close I get is up to me

— April Resnick

 

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