limerence, stage one

a blow to the head,
sudden heightening
of all senses
and a simulated
asthma attack

my circulatory
system pumps
embalming fluid,
skin bristling
and motionless
at the sight of you

an image
retained in the mind
and recalled at
a moment's notice -
an image with
no name

checkerboard man
you were,
foxlike and eager
and so completely
separate
to my world

every day
an empty seat,
full of hope
and potential
and this new
illness
i could not yet
define

on that thursday
it became occupied,
quite suddenly -
a whirlwind of
aniseed with
fruity overtones

paralysis at the
proximity -
all except the mouth
which as usual
rushed ahead
of its own accord

awkward phrases
tangled gracefully
between us -
then one word
which would serve
to define my
conscious mind:

r-----

sparrow

how you revel
in your pretense
and empty
language -
but this
image of yours
collapses under
the barest
scrutiny,
and only your
practised
ignorance
protects you from
the scorn
of your peers

you'd like to
appear well-read
and intellectual,
suffocating
your blog in
feminist rambles
which it is
all too clear
you only vaguely
comprehend

and your
manufactured quirks
bleed from each
line - the british
inflections,
trite
anachronisms,
and the occasional
reference
to just how much
money you have
to spend on
ugly
designer clothes

the drone
of your
self-importance
is deafening -
you want
so desperately
to be that girl
- the creative
introvert,
you once said -
but it all rings
so insipidly
false

you are
a caricature
of yourself,
so dense
the light
bends around you

let go

he let me
go
gently
like a rainbow
trout
too small
to gut

i had
watched
my
reflection
live by
his side
and
love him

one
step removed
and
two steps
back
he was
he is
so beautiful

the colour
of
bleached
passionflower
his voice

and the
delicate
tones twist
vinelike
around
my
waist

silent
agapanthus
soft
to the
touch
and warm

he let me
go
gently
like the
lingering
taste
of salt
water

lennon

woburn train station.
i seem to be
running -
for a train?
ah, no, i am chasing
(this is like
memento, good ol'
christopher nolan)

-i am chasing
what appears to be...
john?
yes, those
sideburns
confirm it -
it's john lennon
all right

john lennon!
no wonder i'm
running so fast.
i'd better be
careful or the
train will leave
without me

- made it!
he sits cross-legged
in the aisle
but no one
tells him off
because he's
john-
fucking-
lennon

i talk to him
(what boldness!)
and he smiles back.
i cannot remember
what he said -
something about
bagels and
old friends

he seems so much
happier this time -
last time i saw him
he was spiteful,
driving a big
yellow school bus
with christopher
eccleston

essential oils

he said
they have
essential oils
there for only
ten dollars

you can get
lavender oil
or like
sandalwood

and i said

i'd rather
buy some frozen
mince for dinner
and i don't really
think i need
oils

he
indignant
sneered

what
do you mean
they're

essential

oils

townshend, vermont

shifting hideous

pale imitations of
familiar turns leave nothing
sacred now, in dust
returning to tiny
particles steeped in a
curious vibration,
echoed in metallic
voices dimly recalled
through thick boards

what now, unspeakable horrors

spinal protest

frost settles on the tips
of my ears as my wasted spine
aches in silent protest,
begging for respite from
the pushing and the pulling
while the heels of my feet
vehemently agree
after fifteen hours without
silence i seem to have forgotten
how to exist without being
constantly serenaded by greats;
an unusual sentiment from me
to be sure
the light pressure between the
eyes and the increasing weight
of my brittle tar lashes
calls forth an inescapable
necessity, regardless of
the need for productivity
at this hour
all that remains is a red fleece
cocoon, barely adequate
but functional, providing just enough
protection from the biting air
to facilitate an almost
satisfactory slumber
and a lullaby medley between
bob and john and colin and john again
and a bit of george and brian
for good measure
and after several unsuccessful
attempts to recruit a small
fluffy hot water bottle
i finally switch to
power saving mode
but keep the light on
in case of monsters

doppelganger

when are you in the
waking world when are
you standing solidly
and real with rubber
soles on concrete when
can i touch you when
is it alright to be
so close and when is it
really you and when am i
not allowed to be
the same as you when
do i stop there is no stop
i cannot stop i cannot
stop i cannot differentiate
between them as they are
you are standing solidly
and real with rubber
soles on concrete in the
waking world when you
are you and i am not
the same as you
because i cannot stop

yes, very much

look!
velvet tides are washing
glorious limbs to the
sweetly perfumed
shores of our bravado

and see!
how those denim-clad
twins bend at a
ninety-degree angle
so oblivious

good evening!
my plural dears
let us drown in this
image, with tiny bones
crackling between our fingers

the other you

i never see the other you as clearly,
so much of it is speculation.
and i suppose with the details
left up to my imagination
it's only natural that the other you
should hold me like that,
with such timid desperation,
as if i were the last solid thing
left on this molten rock.
the other you breathes softly
into my shirt, still shaking
from our imaginary ordeal,
losing his stage directions
in the weave of the fabric.
his words always slip away within moments,
but the weight stubbornly remains.

night terrors

blurred and distant shapes
form vague patterns and formless
notions which choke the boldness
effortlessly from my captured lungs
leaving behind only a trace of
heavy breathing in starts
as weightless hands lay heavy
on my back, imaginary digits
curling between arteries and
important organs, sinking
through my skin to pin
my prone form to the mattress
until my body's steady pounding
stops short, and the blinking
of the digital display
breathes electronic shivers
over my head like a tiny
static hurricane

sheet bend

you are knots
coiled in uncomfortable
positions throughout my body
infecting my already fragile
immune system with your
effervescence, fed intravenously
through a licorice straw.
vigilant i remain
a picture of myself
within and without.
before you i was sand
but in the wake of this crippling
heat i have become
your sister of glass