Train Home

Superhigh girls with their lash extensions pretty and heavy and
blinking big cowlike and beautiful and slow 
and measured a waning halfmoon with the whites twice as low as usual 

Finding my way home by cosmic pull reeled in complacent and bobbing like a fishing lure 
up past Harlem-125th while I can still stay awake 
a little kid getting carried from the car to their bed

I know where I am (track 104) with only basic English and gibberish letters 3XYKJH4IJ 
meaning New Haven but you wouldn't know by looking 

or you wouldn't know at all

Some translucent bug with many legs crawls across the yellow line you aren't supposed to walk on 

but it can't understand and anyway it can survive on the tracks 

for more area than anyone 

It took me twenty-three years to know you
and for eight-and-a-half I was just sleeping
Not wasting my time
It's not ever a waste of time

Last Friday

Just a week ago one splendid horse at the horse race died. DIED! Broke her leg, got put down right on the track, fuckin tragedy. Last Friday. No that's the horse's name. Yeah you know like the riddle. The horse died on Tuesday. Fine mare. Beautiful chestnut. You got like a buck for your ten on her, she was so good. Everybody knew it. Everybody was sad to see her go but everybody was bored of the winning. Where's the fun? She was too good. Got a jockey knows he's on her for a race, he's throwing back Coors Lights behind the stables during the countdown. Fattest jockeys I ever seen on that girl, down twenty pounds for the next race. Saw Joey Mallard throwing up a baker's dozen apple cider donuts in the washing bucket after she ran. Doesn't matter! Ol girl could run records with a sumo wrestler on her back. She could stop and yawn at the finish line and still win every race she entered in. Yeah she was somethin special. Doubt we're ever gonna be lucky to see anything like her. But I'm excited to get a chance for winning again. Next race I got money on Devil's Audit.

Recent things in the painting corner

Koi pond painted with plastic knives & very cheap acrylics.

Friend with stick. I did not paint this one yet but I really want to. I'm afraid I won't be able to do it justice; this is one of my favorite pictures ever.

Friend can't remember his childhood home that well. He is outside looking at a worm or something.

The view from my window.

Please, somebody help this fish!!!!!!

(this was the first thing I painted)

I love visual art, but I have always thought of myself as more of a writer. I just haven't been coming up with anything to write recently... Surely you should not put yourself in only one category but I only started painting again to cover the stains on the wall of my apartment. Having fun with it though!

Also, happy last day of April! In France I learned "En avril ne te découvre pas d'un fil." I think in May you can start throwing your clothes off everywhere.

Magnolia State

I worry someday they will stop cutting the umbilical cord, and let the fetus swing between your legs as you walk, rotting forever showing everyone you weren't a worthy mother. Humiliation and consequences. A clear sign that you have committed some sin. 

 

You lie on the table, unclear whether you are alive or dead. He pulls out a long strip of clear tape, loudly it cries and tries to cling to itself as it is ripped out, fluttering writhing on the end of one finger. The clear tape will stick to his blue rubber hand momentarily; he will shake it off. Your feet planted on the table, you lie on your back. Hot breeze from an open window dries sticky on your sweaty skin. The humming-crunching drone of cicadas, sunshine loud filtered through the leaves illuminates dust thick on the windowsill. The smell of magnolia douses the room in heavy perfume oil, layered over iron and something more nauseous-- flies buzz and plink off of the ripped window screen. He picks up the afterbirth in the other hand, still red and gooey and wet, and places it on top of your gelatin stomach. It's hard to breathe; it's heavier outside than in. He says a prayer in a language you grew up speaking natively but the words don't make sense in order. Finally he lays the tape over it, and you drift back off into sleep.

Look

Picture an empty arctic tundra, pure white all around, glass cliffs rise to fill the background, surrounding the ice, smooth and unscalable. You and I stand across from each other in the biggest puffiest coats you can imagine. Your coat and snow pants can be in your favorite color, I am wearing mine (red). We both wear thick mittens and knitted hats with big colorful pom poms. We wrapped our scarves around our noses and mouths because it's so cold.

We kneel on the frozen ground; it is plain white snow. Between us there is a perfectly circular hole in the ice about a foot in diameter. Imagine the hole an ice fisher makes, the depth and the patient sitting. Within the hole is a cloud. Tentatively you reach into the hole with your mittened hand and find the cloud is soft and tactile, and it tears from itself when you pull on it. I see the cloud-piece in your hand and immediately plunge mine in too, to see what it's like, to touch it for myself,

 

until we are digging frantically like dogs, uncontrolled, hunched over the cloud-hole, throwing handfuls of cloud behind us as we go. Big chunks of wisp fly up over our shoulders and gradually slow down, floating and recondensing, finding each other, and traveling a calm orderly line away from our frenzy. They hit the glass cliffs and slide down, stacking on top of themselves and becoming solid, a staircase surrounding and filling up the basin we're in, an empty coliseum. Maybe later we will forget about the hole and climb up and out, see what's on top of the cliff. Or we'll stay digging until we find the end and we can submerge our hands in the clear sky itself.

Distant

I don't like myself when I'm not absorbing from other people. You can say love is everywhere but it doesn't exist unless you do something about it.
 

I felt enamoured with an old man carrying an upright bass on his back today, and he will never know how I felt, and I will forget about him someday. 

When I am by myself and I have time to observe, I try to notice things only a lover would-- I like the way your legs dangle from your stool, I want to pick you up and carry you home. I like when you think of something funny and your eyes scrunch for a second looking at nothing and you cough because it's the only way to laugh at your own head in public. I like how patient you are with your child and I like the little action figure he's squeezing in his fist like it's going to become sentient and make a break for it; your pretty hands zipping up his puffer coat. I like your neon, and that your key ring has entirely too many keys on it. I imagine how it feels to recognize the familiar sound, my ears flick back like a rabbit straining against my humanness, I want to run toward you. I fantasize that before you round the corner I can hear you coming. That I feel when you’re around me with my ears and nose and by the relative coldness of the wind.

He gives me romance on the way back from the club, I sway home and he walks behind me down the street. He tries to ask me a bunch of questions and I say, haha, no sorry, thank you though! He says to his friend, loudly behind him, Can you imagine you wake up every day and see her smile? His friend says, If you wake up and see her smile you haven’t woken up yet. I am distantly afraid they are going to follow me home, not sharply enough to think of what I'd do, but I turn off onto a smaller street and they keep straight on the main one. I don’t feel anything; everyone always assumes I am upset. It is almost kind to be made a dream girl for a little while, in low lights on a crowded street by people who don't know me at all.

My friend consoles me, you’ll never see him again. I know, I know.

Graffiti in the first stall of the girls’ bathroom at the bar where my friend works

I’ll pay money to fuck Bruce Springsteen
(Me Too!!! -x-
Go Piss girl <3
Bagri woz ere 2024
Juicy bitch here
Roxy Newon you rock!!!
FUCK THE POLICE
PDX PRICK. ONES.
Kiran from Cov was here :)
MAGDALENA BIRTHDAY WEEK 07.06.2023
Saoirse 4 Lyfe
I LOVE MILFS
^ Me too!