- - - - - - -

dismiss.

divulge.

delude.

doubt..

deny.

destroy.

400 blows keen, crawling.

wish came true, now you've seen,

all but the

death of me.

MURMUR.

wake, drown in drink, sleep, wake, drown in drink, sleep, wake.

the cycle consumes.

the weekends here are kept wet, 

in body, in soul, in mind.

we hitched a ride to the oldest pub in Edinburgh to sit coy in boxcar

quaff ale,

gobble ostrich.

refusal brings out the beast in us, lungs tight, clandestine.

a melody sneaks quaintly into our corner.

violins, fiddles, tam-tam's, the traditional bagpipe, a tin whistle.  

20 deep, locals have assembled to jam.

to romp,  to tap their heels. 

we watch, we steal, we run.  leaving the 'piobaireachd' behind.

transformed into mountaineers, we climb twin peaks.

the rain pours, Ring around the Rosie, we all fall down.   mud cakes between lacerations.

steep slope, stone steps carved in 1361.

hands held tight.  carrying the weight of the world, we totter until we're upright.

frogs squirm from pavement to grass, wishing us well.

dive into a dive bar full of 15 year olds in poor fashion playing bingo.

He's lost control again. On the floor, again.  We gulp as quick as our throats allow.

screaming, scolded.

sip the smoke, grasping the night air, again, we're out.

We galavant to an old movie house.

Intimacy surrounds.  One man down, and it's couples therapy.  We speak of failure, of loss, of interest,

of socialism.  Tarantino looks on. 

Two brutes appear in the form of women to ruin the fun.  I'm silenced, sensing tension.  He abandons me, once again reminded why I keep so cold.

I duck away, hide my face in shame, I cry.

In the water, I am beautiful.  I am honest. I am raw.

Bare, introduced to a former self. I close my eyes.

Where have I been?

just fine.

today, I wrote a letter,
the first of many.  
It took me a single try to convey fullness,
frugality of ink,
celibacy for the greater good, 
a higher power
idle is love.

93 days, 
count them on your fingers
your toes.

Sometimes FOREVER would be too SOON

though, tomorrow would do.

NEW LOVES.

we slide down cobblestone streets, 

damp, drunk

she prods her fingers between my stitches.

I coo. I clamber. I fumble. I flounder. 

a hole in the wall Jazz Bar, hidden beneath an underpass.

we scamper to purchase liquid courage,

though we've had out fill hours before.

She screams at the man with the metal violin,

a buoyant tune reverberates, 

we bounce.

light as a feather, scared stiff as a board.

I fall in the stall and sneak up the steps,

feeling quite like 16 again.

Olly-Olly-Oxen-Free,

I am completely alone in this city.

READINGS.

Included:

The Gothic; cities in literature, urban representation, literary theory, late twentieth/twenty-first century genre fiction (sci-fi & horror) queer theory, object-relations psychoanalysis, vampire fiction post-1980, literature/biotechnology, late-Victorian prison autobiographies by women convicts, & The films of David Lynch

Sure,

Time to soak in all the culture that is humanly possible.

Forgot how it feels to live.

there.

you are there. 

here, I sleep through days & dread night.

I finally saw city in light.

volcanic rock coats pale sky, bricks, bread and a baron.

isolation, the black block screams.

1660, dark ale & cold meat.

the city breeds life, 

hollow to me.

he's 15, he spits, he holds his member.

he's 18, an avid, angry drummer.

he's 25, the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

wink, nudge, nod, nude.

he's glowing, he breeds,

hollow to me.

distraction, distraction, distraction