bargaining with a higher power

If I get this job

in Italy

I promise to wear

fake eyelashes and red lipstick everyday

and never ever sulk and

Remember every late night

and write every letter

and learn how to bake bread

and return every phone call, and start

to pull all the days off my day calendar again.

If you give me some direction I’ll take it with bells on,

all forward motion and sidesteps and skips

I will buy fresh flowers every week

and have clean sheets and loose leaf tea

I’ll call everyone more and remember to do my hair.

I will

Open up my heart again

and let the good ones in, I’ll hold them tight and stay all night

I’ll remember to eat

and wake before the alarm

Stop biting my nails and paying late fees

If I get a good chance, if I get a small push

I promise promise promise to be happy again.

locust plague

i haven't abandoned this space
i'm just been climbing up and down a ladder
and think its time to move horizontally

i'll let you know. you look great today, by the way.

deep roots

i
excitedly called
my mother
to tell her
about the
sudden sprouting of my new
gladiola bulbs

"i hope you planted them deep in the ground"
she said
"or they'll fall over"

"they must be deeply planted

or they'll fall over."

not me.

life is sometimes overwhelming. i am at a loss for inspiration. so I leave you with the first words of Eluard that made me love him, long ago as an undergraduate in the south....


La courbe de tes yeux fait le tour de mon coeur,
Un rond de danse et de douceur,
Auréole du temps, berceau nocturne et sûr,
Et si je ne sais plus tout ce que j'ai vécu
C'est que tes yeux ne m'ont pas toujours vu.
Feuilles de jour et mousse de rosée,
Roseaux du vent, sourires parfumés,
Ailes couvrant le monde de lumière,
Bateaux chargés du ciel et de la mer,
Chasseurs des bruits et sources de couleurs,
Parfums éclos d'une couvée d'aurores
Qui gît toujours sur la paille des astres,
Comme le jour dépend de l'innocence
Le monde entier dépend de tes yeux purs
Et tout mon sang coule dans leurs regards.


I honestly believe these are the first words of the surrealist french movement I learned. Beautiful, no?