I love you by Mary Foans

December 1, 2015

this poem is for the pillow clutchers
for those looking into the imaginary eyes of the person who fills their mind with sugarplum smiles
for those who have a canon of dreams ready and waiting to blossom
for the men and the women who want to be understood in that way that only someone who kisses you can understand you
this poem is for you. this poem is not for the desperate
the pathetic
the lame
the loser
not for the one who hasn’t gotten laid in awhile
not for the one who says they’re “choosing, you know, not to date for awhile"
there is no such thing
this poem is for the people who cannot bring themselves to admit that they would give their right leg for any length of time with the person on their mind.

forgive me
I am not a brave woman
I do not know what lurks in the hearts of humans and I don’t really want to know
if what’s there mirrors memories I show in my face on bad days
it holds kisses that are long gone
people who have disappeared
and passions that have faded into the ether of the past
nothing lasts
and that is the one lesson this coward can say she is able to teach.

this poem is for all those who wish to say “I’m sorry”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you
you deserve love”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t give something to you
you deserve to be given to”
I’m sorry that for every person that loves somebody
another person just doesn’t want to
and sometimes we’re the lucky ones right?
we get to feel sweet truth in the night
the bodies we reach out to are miraculously there
but I know the despair that comes when they are not
I know the long nights and the doubt and the fear
and the crawling back to a womb that just isn’t there
I know intensity’s address and the letdown that rents there
I’m sorry for it
it takes years off your life and it cannot be avoided. and some times these little words are crutches for the crush that we feel
so this poem is a pathetic vehicle for me to tell you
each one of you
that I love you
in so many ways
in the same ways that stay up nights and days dreaming up the perfect
way to be there for someone
meals you would cook for them
poems you would write for them
and the things you plan to say when they say no
well I love you
and you will never know how in the slight of a magician’s hand we could’ve been lovers and grandly in love
could’ve changed the whole game
written words on the horizon
changed the compromise
but you will know something else instead
bitter as bitter ever gets
more bitter than a rotten peach pit
more bitter than a child’s most terrifying nightmare at night
you will know that I don’t reflect what I see in your eyes
we will share some banal recognition
some cordial understanding
but have I mentioned that I love you for be honest
have I mentioned that I love you for not lying
so many people lying all the time and I hate them
so I love you
and you will still go home alone/and that is very hard to do.

for all the humans with love for those who aren’t their lovers
I love you.

and so the poem ends because we know that it will
but before it slips away like everything else
I will attempt the only words I can think of that are a fraction as good as a kiss:
when you reach out at night and find not someone
but the cold grey light of day that wakes you up like a slap
like a curse
like an insult
I love you
when you stay at home thinking of those who are long gone
or those who are getting kisses from someone that is not you
I love you
for those who want what they probably need
and whose bodies are starving not for food
for me and for you and for all the people who never knew or understood what you would do for them
I love you
I love you
I love you.


Goodbye November

November 30, 2015

November has been a haze. I don't know if I rushed through it or if November rushed through me. I can't believe 2015 is almost over.

Good riddance!


monday morning tunes #3

November 9, 2015

Such a lonely day
And it's mine
System of a Down - Lonely Day


salad days

October 28, 2015

My salad days,
When I was green in judgment, cold in blood,
To say as I said then! - Anthony and Cleopatra, Act I Scene 5

Sometimes I wonder about my raw youth days and whether I lived them right. Sometimes I wonder if my salad days are behind me.  These are the thoughts which cloud my mind these days


monday morning tunes #2

October 26, 2015

I can't wait you see me 'round the corner, 
running up into the upswing
Call me, I'm done, when I speak about the truth
The moment come the bottom to the down beat, 
It's not easy there when you feel the wear
Patients bring the chair, ooh-oh oooh-oh
Everyday do you notice that we're never free
Why can't you be, happy with me?


notes on a thursday

October 23, 2015

London 2014

Waking up before dawn. The darkness of the sky.The warmness of the coffee cup. 

Then noise and brownian movement. 
Then silence again.

A spider web in the raw morning sunlight. An orange-yellowish sky as I wait to cross the street. 
Crowded subway. 

An old lady carrying two bags of flowers. People walk by."Let me help you with that!" She's a blend of olden day elegance, simplicity and poverty. "Have a good day! Thank you again, dear!" 

Rush, rush, rush.Catching two green trafficking stops.

Faith in humanity is shattered.

Blue skies getting swallowed by grey clouds. 

By 11, I get hungry; I might be a hobbit. 

"Some girls are bright as morning
 And some girls are blessed with a dark turn of mind"

Writing. Not writing. Writing. Not. It's a process. The mind gathers pollution. 

Faith in humanity is rebuilt.

Translating away.

At 1:11 a mild existential crisis ensues.

A short walk to buy lunch. It rains. A bikini bottom hangs from a tree. I stopped asking why a long time ago. A bag of apples left near the cash register. "Here's your coupon, If you follow the instructions, you could win a trip". Not with my luck. Back inside, enjoying the warmth.

Mild existential crisis subsides. Today I was reminded why I went to law school; words are magical and mathematical at the same time. A question still plagues me how do I unravel this torment. 

Back in the rain. Sneakers squeak. Feet are cold. I wanted to buy a fountain pen as a gift for my future self. I bought a book instead. 

Rain. Rush. Crowded. Rush. Rain. 

Irgendwie, erstaundlich, Fingerabdruck, hinein, leidenschaftlich, Vergiftung, überaschen, etwas Schönes. Die großen blauen Pferde. German expressionism. 

Rain. Tram. Rush. 


Washing the make-up off my face. 

Cozy in bed. 


Tomorrow is another day.


second spring

October 21, 2015

October 2015
Sometimes nature is tricked into a second spring.

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