i’m writing to say i’m with you

1. a missive from way past midnight
meets up with a
miles of morning memorandum
in which
the romance of language
plus the heartbreak of humanity
collide
i’m writing to say

i’m with you

2. a kind of freight train
a kind of neil ohkneel
horseback
momentum
a kind of
calloused cow-hand
texture
a kind of
wind-burned face
squaring off
against horizon
as sun
spills gold
thin line of liquid
along itsĀ  jagged edges

3. when you wake to find
that cristina rivera garza
has posted a link
to your manifesto
on her blog
you know
it’s gonna be
a goddamn good day

4. when you wake to
adorations of latitudinal gratitude
(gratitudinal)
traveling
via satellite express
over three time zones
you know
again
it’s going to be
a goddamn good day

5. this
just in
from florida:
and yes there are huge plastic candy canes
and air filled santas and gigantor snow globes.
all rhythmically slapped by the back
and forth
of sprinklers.
the thwack of waterwall on plastic
the sound of something in the way
momentarily
of something else.
depth perception.

6. while i
sleep
against sun
forcing its light
against red/white lace curtains
you
type
around the blue tangle
of oxygen tubing
curling around the apartment
like a telephone cord:
and i can understand the sound
like two pieces of cheap bologna
peeled stickywet away from each other
when my moms lips part.
the froth at the corner of
her mouth.
that dry/wet sound: her insatiable thirst
The constant deafening monologue of anxiety
a rumbling of shallow breathed swearing
every second tripping over itself to catch up.
a comeOn comeOn hurryup fumbling of words
and impatience with everything.
I think:
Cancer.
I think:
Dead.
I think:
I was a part of you
will always be a part of you
my skin organs brain
heart
built inside your body.
I think:
Gratitude
turning off every sense
but love.

7. sleeveless shirt
and running
3pm
early december sky
dillutsing sunlight
cool edges of air
turned to
the glisten
of sweat

8. wrench
clamped to shower faucet
in order to turn the water
off
or
on

9. huevos rancheros
for dinner
a million images
of frida kahlo
on the stucco wall
and the oddity
of xmas tunes
so loud
we must raise our voices

10. trapped
in a 90’s styled cafe
with a 90’s music radio station
you
scrape the fluff
off your earl gray with soy milk

11. stopped
in front of my house
we discuss
the phenomena
of women
so gnarled
by their survival under patriarchy
that their family
wishes them dead
years
before they pass