the process

You sit heavy upon my chest tonight,
forcing hand to uptake pen
in effort,
in vain attempt,
to quantify
to clarify,
deep seated swelling emotion.
With logic, thought ,
reason,
modus tollens; modus ponens,
no negation,
no logical assertions eludicated,
therefore you remain
defiant ,
insistent upon not being eradicated.
And of what is your form?
Why so deep?
Why so forlorn?

Antique

I can surely suffer no more loss of myself in others.
My soul is as if I am the spent remains of press out cookie cutters,
his shape , your shape my lost dear friend, her shape,
gone .
Leaving,
holes,
sweet memories, turned bitter.
Short bursts of laughter,
long nights of tears,
"tell me 5 things I dont know about you" talks,
putting me on the airplane,
long terminal corridor walks.
What of my part in you, your part in me
must that now die too?
Can this sense of loss be all attributed to the flux, the dynamicity of life?
Seasons change I am told , people come and go.
But what of consistency , what of fight, what of resolve?
For I surely can suffer no more loss of self in others,
so tell me you will stay,
tell me time , and words unspoken ,
wont push away, wont destroy with atrophic decay
me in you ,
you in me,
us in we.

stream of thought

I am becoming and ending, such a sewing together and pulling apart, at the same time in myself, causes distress, to a heart and mind that is used to consistency, modus operandi, a bedrock of sight, foresight, a known end.

But now what am I becoming, and what is ending?

Hazy

You had your bed eyes on,
now your taste sits in the back of my mouth .
..sensory..
Swarthy, earthy, distinctly not my own,
Morning after, unbrushed , tongue,
dividing bacteria, microflora, -fauna.
Groggy eyes, remorse rising
with the sun,
tethered with hope
that this time
You would,
I could,
We should be..

MFA

Ive decided I would like to go to graduate school to get an MFA in poetry or creative writing, where, how and when t.b.a.
but i must .
I know this,
I will start there.
"the creative power cannot be repressed. one must give vent to what one feels." vincent van theo

Onward

And how do you awake a sleeping mind?
How do you stir a numb heart?
What spurs a stagnant spirit to action?
What expulsive force,
compelling force,
moving inwardly and out .
Or am I too far gone?
When nothing is the same,
no one is the same.
Hello my name is Rachel,
Nice to be continually unknowing you.
The pleasure is all yours.

holes.

I got my nose pierced yesterday.
Dear me, dear God, I needed some of physical change
to mark the inward change that has been occurring for the past year.
So it was either this or cutting of my hair.
Something I am saving for a more poignant disturbance in self/pace of life/disposition,
whether bad or beneficial.
Some way to tell myself that I am actually progressing,
that I am not the person I was yesterday,
and the day before or a year ago.
And how I need that when I feel trapped by those who know me into,
perceived judgments
usual interactions
assumptions
typical roles
known failures
and lack of faith.
It is something inside my soul that is in need of ever changing.
ever moving.
ever growing.
ever coming to know.
ever forgetting.
ever forgiving .
This double edged sword creates a world of complexity
duality.
Me needing to be loved and let go.
Seen and known , but not bound.

force.

I can feel it in my spine
It lays heavy upon my frame
familiar. full curves .
breasts.hips. legs . calves.
I carry it. uneven distribution,
inside- outside
heart loads
mind sags.
Force to overcome equal to mass of object.
Force equal to work.
Working upon body. thereby mind. henceforth disposition,
and that now which heart speaks out of.
Slowly, with time, with unnoticed increase in pressure
weighing.
subconscious. conscience.
Noticed now, body revolts to carrying.
heart shouts.
mind pleads against carrying alone.
The daily load. burden not light . yoke not easy.
And Father are you with me now?
When my hands do the work.
Mind does the figuring.
Thoughts does the worrying.
Created help mate, needs help, to lean upon, to share with man.human.
Comforting hands,
quiet words,
I then, now assured.
And am I weak?
yes. and amen.
No. and I will never be again.
Dueling sentiment rips through mind in response,
attempting to create force in equivalence to lift weight.
lift heart.
lift eyes.
fill spaces.
REPOSe.

.the past.

something is amiss.
I can see it in the pitter-patter of your forefinger,
the shift-shift of your eyes,
the press-press
rub-rub of you straightening out your already perfected shirt
adequately tucked into your pants.
you tuck.tuck. tucked them so deep.
thoughts. of me tucking in your shirt for you in the morning.
brought about by wafting coffee smells
that I could bring.
freshly ground. brown filter paper.
we want to live long, i want to live long
that i may tuck. tucked. be .tucked. inside of you.
and these thoughts are premature. presumptous.
pre-, pre-
before. touch.
and held ourselves open for the other to see. to know and be known.
so thoughts are encased in self-control.
temperance and reality
ineluctable modality

speak

There are constant reminders of my lack
lack of adequate ability to communicate
to comprehend
to sympathize
to empathize
and why is it the hardest with those with whom you have known the longest?
who have cause you the most pain
whom you desperately need to see
to touch
to give and get
to taste
Grace from. unto.within. in their voice. actions. touch.
oh but these words get caught behind entanglements of fear and pride
..and i dont know where to begin
..and its been so long
and why whys?
and complacency putceses around the ankles of the indifference that tags
along my heels.
in the shadows
let there be no fear of doing the "hard" thing
come now think of the the joy that awaits
the newness.
but for now only silence
the awkward,
heavy silence
the tell-tale silence
of i should have
could have
would have
known you by know
years of time
but i know you not.
at all.

unseen

I have been violently living as of late,
impetus, compulsion, compelling me from within .
heart,mind.mouth.hands.eyes.feet.
drawn, forward.
not as so much as to harm self or others,
but violent to live and let live.
to know
to feel
to love
despise
revel
oh to think .
deeply.
profoundly.
wholly.
even in pain . let even that cup be filled , embraced, cemptied.
warm. down throat.
esophagus enter.
exit as tears .
salt preservation.
I have been aggressively living as of late,
pursuant of sensory .
touch.
sound.
taste.
smell.
frustrated by the trivial
distrusting of the transient ,
longing , ready, hoping
to capture
to take hold of
something greater than I
more subsistent than I
more satisfying that I
eyes strain to see
heart longs to feel
hands ache to recall sensory knowledge of
feet pulse to walk

Foolish.

So many words, never make it out.
Caught in between my heart and mind, stuck in throat,

...in passages of what if, and maybe then, and who am i too? Ive got to, have to , must to SPEAK. this time.

Sensory

There is no more hoped arrival of forrest green volvo ,
For more lets get coffee, how are you, dream with me meetings.
You are gone now
Rocky mountain destination,
far away,
where foothills and mountains are your backyard.
You flit,
flew away.
Scourning the city you left behind
kicking its dust off your heels.
I attempt to recall what I thought I knew of you,
and who you were in the face of the city.
In which i stay. stand.
Hikes, and coffee shops
rivers and mountain tops.
An Earthy. A shallow knowing.
Fragrant of soils and loam ,
truth and reason,
laughter and the autumn season.

Night LIfe

driving around Richmond
its one am in the morning
in search of something to eat
supposedly driven by the hunger of a skipped dinner
driving down streets
as the lights roll over the windshield
displaying signs for false nurture
staring at the faces of people on the street
wondering what stories lie behind those eyes
i am hungry for you God
i am craving you
yet i dont know how to articulate this yearning
so i drive
hungry
searching
aimless
wait the village cafe.... no closed their kitchen early tonight
back in the car
as i drive around
and around
morning begins
and i have returned here
in the silence of my heart
exactly what i have been running from
frustrated by the pursuit of the futile
wounded from the pain of unfufilled desire
tears have become my food
so i sleep
my only consolance
maybe as i dream
i would meet YOU .

Nebeneinander (James Joyce's Missed Connection)

From 7 to 9pm you sat,
Coffee, 2 magazines, one black book,
glasses noted,
title of book unnoted.
You have a name, I heard, Alex,
yes a female barista spoke towards you with familiarity.
I , with friend, near, .......nebeneinander>
reading distractedly,
thoughts of knowledge.sit.swirl upon my mind.
Eyes alighted.
Ive known you before, yes?
sometime
somplace?
I think through my eyes.
>>>nacheinander