33/104:07/30: you know about Gingko trees? for andy

So what if the Gingko leaves fall like rain?

At a certain hour the top leaf might decide
the sun is cutting him a little short.
He's definitely made up his mind after he thinks it through.
No one likes getting one minute less than what he's bargained for.

Once he falls, his friends summarize the past few days and decide
this is how it must happen. (and you know what they say,
if this is the way it must happen then this is the way it shall be done.)

One after the other, and sometimes handfuls at a time,
fall
and
fall.
Little yellow fans spread out like the sky.
And just like that, the day is done.

33/104:06/30:Love Poem-Take 2

I've been meaning to say this,
but you know about life.
The bills that are behind and
how my feet hurt after work and
the dishes that balance on top of other dishes
with left overs stuck on each fork.
But, still, I've been meaning to tell you -

You are good like jumping canyons
and breathing deeply and
feeling your own heart pump your own blood
in the morning.
A fundamental and unrestrained good.

And sometimes when I'm driving home,
desperate with the heater on my feet,
the street lights swell up in me all that I can handle;
the only thing I can manage with any grace whatsoever
is getting to you.

32/104:05/30: Two Days is a Long Time in Some Circles

A new elegance comes from waiting -
Perhaps, a new quiet.

Accidentally, the scenarios aren't too docile,
slightly uncontainable and out of control.

And I want to say one thousand things (but don't)
and do at least half of that (and still don't).

Maybe it would be terrible,
or maybe it would just be.

32/104:04/30: Sometimes Things Were Bad

10077.
That was my first library number.
When I was 8.

I was a tiny wristed, white toothed 8 year old.
I learned to ride a purple bike with a purple dress on.
And I blew the hell out of bubbles
on a creaky porch swing.
I had a baby brother who I sang to
and made laugh and sometimes cry,
but more laughs.
and sweaty cousins to play hide and seek
and set up fake carnivals.
I even took piano lessons.

Sometimes things were bad,
but sometimes they were the complete opposite.

31/104:03/30: Let's try optimism

Take an inventory of all the things you're good at.
Start now.
It may take a few days.
Add items to that list that may not be completely true.
Then add "creative connoisseur"
if only because of the lies.

Anything that comes to mind -
write it down - or, better yet,
write it in the sky.
Let your neighbors know that
yes, in fact, you may cry a lot
(a lot),
but that can be a radiant and delicate characteristic.
The ability to openly weep, well, not everyone possesses it.

For example, on my alphabetized inventory
I might talk about my rib cage.
I think it's beautiful.
And occasionally,
I blast light straight from my sternum.

See? It's simple.

30/104:02/30: Two steps to remain lonely

For starters,
think about when you were little.
Remember, laying in you bed,
how fast your heart would pump hot blood
through your tiny body
when you knew this night was the night
you'd have to call the police again.

Sometimes he drank too much
and sometimes, she hit him with the
meanest words ever spoken.
(The reciprocation would blow the walls down)

Remembering; that's the first step.

Secondly, know that no one you know
can relate.

29/104:01/30: Never Ceasing

I will stand knee deep in heavily laden soil.
There I will craft that wheat grass into ropes and
tie my own wrists tightly.
I will rub the mud on my face if only to jump start
the decomposition.
(Not in a field of lilies, mind you,
just soil.
Stripped and full of broken boulders and empty)
That's where I'll die.

I will walk there willingly and I will
rip out my own intestines to beckon the crows. (i am them)

And if there is a god who cares about my personal queries,
well, it'll be then that I ask her about things like my skull
and my rib cage,
oh!
and I'd probably bring up about sacrifice.
But probably, I'd just ask,
politely of course,
"what the fuck?"

And for once, I will
let loose the glass from my marrow.