25 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

last night i fell asleep listening to tvs type and breathe over a bad skype connection

this morning i woke up to a series of skype conversation bubbles

it read like a poem
v. beautiful

it inspired this poem,
as well as reawakened the desire to create a multimedia arts journal which somehow mirrors / recreates the poetry which happens thru technology, like messaging systems

25 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

a somewhere moves air

between teeth

ghost says yes to heat

 

10 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

a successful day at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books

$2 used books (!!)

met a wonderful soul at Stranger Comics
finally got to see Niobe in print

excited for free comic book day so i can score myself a copy + poster

 

10 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

playful dna

interrupts itself

the steps we take to climb

 

 

after the book festival, i sat down to rearrange all the books in my totebag

next to me was a mother and her boyfriend and her son

walking across the way was a mother and her son

both boys were very young

the rambunctious one was climbing the stairs, the shy one curious

asked “wanna play?”

the boy ran to his mom. the other continued playing. it took a long time for the mother to agree.

“yeah!” the shy boy exclaimed
but by the time the shy boy came back the rambunctious boy was no longer playful and suddenly shy

everyone stood around awkwardly

it was the most heartbreaking event i’ve witnessed for days

but wait

it gets worse

they attempt to play. it’s awkward. no longer spontaneous. the mothers attempt to leave. they’re still trying, though, those boys. the shy one and his mother go but he tells the boy he’ll be back, they just have to move the car. only the mother with the boyfriend and her son remain. she says, lets go. he says, they’re coming back. they’re not coming back, the mother responds. they’re coming back, the boy says. they’re not coming back, the mother says.

they leave.

a little while later, i leave.

and of course
i pass the mother and her son, coming back.

 

08 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

the past two days have been full of mistakes in the adventures of bookmaking

it’s nice to find time and quietly reflect for poetry, though

 

08 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

there are six directions

a body in the dark

hears only one

 

 

07 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

ugh

 

07 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

a warm underbelly

coffee bean ink

petrichor sheets

 

i miss my old process
of writing, simply writing
and living in the forest

i say it a lot because i mean it

the forest, the forest, the forest. things just don’t click here and i can feel it.

my instinct is always to go in search for something which does fit. or make the wandering itself a fit. the latter seems more aligned with my personality

i’ve erased what should be kept
in a journal

 

this poem is actually the last attempt
which is a first for this project

(they usually come quietly, then sit)

img_6482

i’ve decided to save my favorite image/concept for another poem

instead of diluting it with this one

 

i don’t know if that’s cowardly or lazy

but i do know something is not working and something
must be surrendered

 

 

do we even remember what we’ve chosen to erase?

 

 

(yes. the answer is yes.)

06 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

just observing the day and tying it all together

getting tired of all the social media bullshit this requires

but i’m not going to stop,
as i’m sure i’ll be proud of myself after a month

 

also tired of trying to perfect the typewriter poetry website

 

…today was just a day

 

06 : suck myself out the heart i give it back

diluted sweat

an animal who is timid

like water that slows when approaching an incline

 

perhaps writing with the specific goal of observation is not the best way to go about this series

what i really want to do and where i really want to go with “suck myself out the heart i give it back” is in some ways too vulnerable for me to even associate with

 

this poem consists of elements i found nice and interesting and wanted to capture independently of each other

in the end they play together quite nicely, and i am pleasantly surprised by the result