when i had an idea

Directions
1: Start out going EAST on ******* ST toward ******** AVE. <0.1 miles
2: Turn LEFT onto ******** AVE. <0.1 miles
3: Turn RIGHT onto CHATSWORTH ST. 0.7 miles
4: Turn LEFT onto RESEDA BLVD. 0.6 miles
5: Merge onto CA-118 E. 3.4 miles
6: Merge onto I-405 N toward SACRAMENTO. 3.0 miles
7: Merge onto I-5 N (Crossing into OREGON). 938.7 miles
8: Take the OR-43 / MACADAM AVE. exit- EXIT 299A- toward US-26 E / ROSS IS. BR.. 0.1 miles
9: Stay STRAIGHT to go onto SW MACADAM AVE / OR-43 N. Continue to follow OR-43 N. 0.4 miles
10: Turn SLIGHT LEFT onto SW HOOD AVE. 0.2 miles
11: Turn RIGHT onto SW WHITAKER ST. <0.1 miles
12: Turn RIGHT onto SW KELLY AVE. <0.1 miles
13: Turn SLIGHT LEFT to take the ramp toward US-26 E / ROSS IS. BR. / MT. HOOD. <0.1 miles
14: Turn SLIGHT RIGHT onto US-26. 0.6 miles
15: Merge onto SE MCLOUGHLIN BLVD / OR-99E S / PACIFIC HWY E. 2.2 miles
16: Turn RIGHT onto SE 23RD AVE. <0.1 miles
17: Turn RIGHT onto SE BYBEE BLVD. 0.2 miles
18: Stay STRAIGHT to go onto SE TOLMAN ST. <0.1 miles
19: SE TOLMAN ST becomes SE 28TH AVE. 0.3 miles
20: Stay STRAIGHT to go onto SE WOODSTOCK BLVD. 0.2 miles
21: End at 3203 Se Woodstock Blvd, Portland, OR 97202-8138, US
Total Est. Time: 14 hours, 37 minutes
Total Est. Distance: 951.71 miles

i'll see you here. :)

when i was hopelessly poor

lord.

i miss you/her so much.

to me, every day and every minute and every hour and every span of time is merely marked by how long it is until i see you again. two weeks from friday i will see you. yes, if i had a choice i would never leave your arms (i speak grandly; practically, of course, we'd have to be separate for some things. showers, working, to cool down because of the intense intense heat). but i do not care that it is only for two days, effectively, that i will see you. that fact that your reality will be reaffirmed again and again for me until we will be together for good keeps me going.

my body is restless inside because you are not sitting here next to me, because i cannot smell you in the air, because i cannot stretch my arm out and touch you, because i cannot hold your face and kiss you.

you are so truly in everything i see and touch, whether i mentally associate you with something or not. you are just there, almost as if part of you is constantly harboring inside my fingers and just behind my eyes.

but thinking about the ephemeral state of time makes things better because, honestly, life is so very long and now goes running fast into the past like wild horses over the hills at sunset until i am holding your hand and looking into your eyes and never having to let you go.

when you were a star falling down somewhere next to me

so here i am, returned or dropped back to where i was, but not really, no, not so much.

i find myself sitting here, no longer really existing within each day but merely doing what temporarily distracts me and makes me happy, merely whiling away the days until i see you again, until i am home again. currently, it is reading. i am just reading to read and reading to pass the time. in everything i read, you are there. i read amerika by kafka and picture you reading the same words; i read cortazar and imagine you smiling at the same, strange, enigmatic stories; i read hemingway and think of how much you love him and his books and stories. and hence, somehow unsurprisingly, you are not really as far away as i would think; you feel close, nearby, within arm's and ear's reach. i touch last week and there you are, still lying languidly on my bed, giving me those eyes i cannot say no to. and i realize we have reinvented anatomy and proven the credibility of metaphysics in that my heart can survive outside of my body because it is with you, and yours with me.

and when i look at someone or something or nowhere, even, i'm really looking for and into your eyes, you know.

and every time i write something down i think 'now how i can i put her into this'. not for the sake of the story, but just as a way of showing you my love as much as i can and assuring you that you are still everywhere with me.

and when there is nothing else or i am tired of reading or writing i look at my poster of the eiffel tower above my desk and see you and i standing there by the merry-go-round in its shadow, holding hands and looking up, blinking snow out of our eyes. and i turn to kiss you and you turn to me at the exact same time and then everything is wonderful and bright and, most important, okay. everything is okay.

when i found a reason

what comes is better than what came before.

i will always come to you.
i will always run to you.

poor and happy.

when life was elsewhere

a poem i wrote last night
--
"life is elsewhere?"

elsewhere
is life? - but:
how can that be
when all that is
is here
and all that isn't
is nowhere
(tangently, then is all
that isn't, if nowhere,
somewhere?
thus, is it? - stale);

yet, scorn the here and praise there
if you must - yet
then, where are you
at the utter moment
of your poetic waxing?
how can you be here
(as clear a fact as
day and night) with
life, dancing,
not?

are you then
poetically lifeless
(a soldier unstirring
by a river?)

and then one subsequent question
we have yet to trip
on our tongues
(aside from such what then
is life nonsense -
save that
for the end of the
universe, i say! -
where we say "was"
ponderously instead of "is",
every semblance of
being gone - thus, is is was
at that point -):
if life is truly elsewhere,
what is here among us,
breathing and moving
dust creatures
that we propose
to be?

i answer you,
voodoo poetic,
two roses in my fist
and white blood running down
my arms - (so Apolline):

here is elsewhere
- and all distant oceans
in between.