substack
(p.s. drag me!!!!!)
Mindfulness
Stationed
there at midnight, far-flung
toward end-time. I can hear it breathe. Seam
of my jeans, pulsing left side of the mattress,
metronome’d to my heaving—steady, reliable,
there. What I know: the American Robins perched
at bedside, night chill puts me to sleep, fox racing
alongside car. What serenity is gathered in perching,
and I’ve never been able to spend quite so much time on it.
Lucent mornings shift gears. I’m really only prepared
for the rain, the drizzling of it all; I do not anticipate
clarity. I’m bound to the same white comforter
for months. It’s ironically white. I can give you five different
stories for each blood stain. I’ll eat in the spur of the moment.
Let me Grecian coast this downpour. Sometimes, rainwater can be
wine. It’s a matter of mind over matter. If you believe it,
it most definitely won't be. I’m afraid that my nail polish will run out.
It’s a bottle of black, and I apply a coat every day. And then
smudge. It’s all about the painting and the smudging, about how flat
the set-up is. No, I don’t want to buy press-ons at the store. No,
I don’t want a day where there isn’t even a bit of black chip left
on the sheets. I want anticipated clarity and forthcoming stock
market boosts but I’m really not trying to ask for much. Give me
black nails, give me them at midnight. I’ll bear them to the blackness
as witness of cruelty, spectator to atrocity, and then
maybe you’ll all understand what I’ve been through.
toward end-time. I can hear it breathe. Seam
of my jeans, pulsing left side of the mattress,
metronome’d to my heaving—steady, reliable,
there. What I know: the American Robins perched
at bedside, night chill puts me to sleep, fox racing
alongside car. What serenity is gathered in perching,
and I’ve never been able to spend quite so much time on it.
Lucent mornings shift gears. I’m really only prepared
for the rain, the drizzling of it all; I do not anticipate
clarity. I’m bound to the same white comforter
for months. It’s ironically white. I can give you five different
stories for each blood stain. I’ll eat in the spur of the moment.
Let me Grecian coast this downpour. Sometimes, rainwater can be
wine. It’s a matter of mind over matter. If you believe it,
it most definitely won't be. I’m afraid that my nail polish will run out.
It’s a bottle of black, and I apply a coat every day. And then
smudge. It’s all about the painting and the smudging, about how flat
the set-up is. No, I don’t want to buy press-ons at the store. No,
I don’t want a day where there isn’t even a bit of black chip left
on the sheets. I want anticipated clarity and forthcoming stock
market boosts but I’m really not trying to ask for much. Give me
black nails, give me them at midnight. I’ll bear them to the blackness
as witness of cruelty, spectator to atrocity, and then
maybe you’ll all understand what I’ve been through.