little girl, get up.

it’s dark and i’m exhausted
in an austin parking lot i’m sobbing
and i can’t blame it on anyone,
i’m just crazy. no real reason.
and i’m staring at the apartment complex
in front of me. i’m staring down a wall.

it’s between driving into the apartments or driving home,
and i’m too smart to drive into the apartments.

so i drive home, speeding through midnight to houston.
it’s damp and humid like houston nights are.
i have coffee and i’m alone and i’m tired.

the closer i get to home the brighter i feel,
and when i walk in the house my father says i’m radiant.
this is homecoming, this is redemption:
my father’s house, my mother’s arms,
and there’s no need for fires or fading.

you’ve forgotten me it seems
like childhood dandelion seeds
floating in the blue,
seconds later they’re gone or fallen
and you run on to bouquets of roses
sophisticated, romantic, adult
the light in your eyes is gone
and i’m wondering if i snuffed it

i don’t know you anymore, girl.
you’re caught up somewhere else
and i won’t chase you anywhere

when i beg for revelation
invariably i get brokenness
dark breaks me
light builds me
stronger than before

i’m eden revisited,
rebirthed, rekilled,
resuscitated,
resurrected,
reliving.

i like earth am broken
groaning
i like earth am remade
singing

at this time last year i was looking forward to this time this year so i could be your driver and i wondered what you’d be like drunk and when i woke up this morning there was a pang of missing but the whole day’s been so busy and my life is so different than i thought it would be or than you thought it would be and i’m so glad.

My poor mother. We were discussing hair-dye over email and I asked her to make me an appointment at home for October 11, which is Fall Break. She replied, “Yay! Only two more months until you come home again!!!!! …That’s a really long time from now.”

I cringed. Not fair that I have to grow up or that I have to be away from my best friend so long. I am coming home for like a day in September, but that’s not enough really. I miss her.

My dad is just as much crazy as she is. He’s planning to come up to see me since I’ve only seen him three or four times since April. He NEVER does stuff like that…just coming up on a whim. In fact, he kind of tries not to leave the house.

I miss them.

from china shards
iron blossoms

“this reminds me of austin’s papazan.”
“austin who?”
“haynes…didn’t he have a papazan?”
“oh…i don’t remember.”

i’m trying to remember how she knows austin haynes
and the name feels clumsy on my tongue
and i really don’t remember this papazan

and suddenly in the midst of it all i’m forgetting my life
forgetting the ones who i loved, who i looked up to
i’m going too fast and i’m scared but God’s pulling me along
and it’s like that day three and a half years ago when
i knew the inevitable
and it was like rapids and waterfalls and terrifying
and i’m swept away by more than man
but i miss the old riverbanks,
the old grounds, the damp fertile soil
and the trees like crib-bars, keeping me from falling
this wide new place is too big

take me sweep me away
i’m scared but i know this fear:
it’s divine and powerful and it’s
the harbinger of blessing

i’m missing something and my mind is full
of greypurply loss and in the back of it is a
housewife sweeping around trying to find
the coin she lost.
she doesn’t know whether it was a nickel or dime
all she knows is her wallet’s a bit lighter and
without that coin she won’t buy bread

we await her rejoicing

it’s like when your brother is trying to break into your bedroom
and you’re hopelessly young and you’re trying to close the door against him
and all your weight is against that doorknob trying to keep the
damn
thing
closed
and he keeps coming in all victorious and grinning
like the hero he is to you

it’s like when you’re boiling water for macaroni and cheese
and you leave the water on too high too long
and it bubbles over all frothy and white
and with an exclamation of surprise you try to
put the cover back on the pot

it’s like sitting on an overstuffed suitcase trying to get all those
memories shut up in there so you can put it on a plane to
wherever and they can be gone like children you’re trying to get rid of

it’s like when you liked something and you have to move on
because God’s not in it anymore and you should’ve known by the way you
cried when you were holding it that it wasn’t good
but you just didn’t want to let go.
it looked like summer but it smelled like rotting garbage in the sun.

so i’m snipping away at memories,
editing you out,
when you come into my mind i look at the wall,
remember you briefly,
and pack you up and ship you out,
close the door against you
and it’s hard to shut out a lover
and even harder to shut out a friend
but it gets easier each time the door slams
and i feel so satisfied, so grown
each time i can do it myself.

there are times when in the midst of fog rain thunder lightning
fearsome calms that keep me stuck in ruts
all the bullets nature can shoot at me from her sinister sniper rifle
i fall in love with her
she’s trying to kill me and i
i fall in love, falling like child like lover
into her arms and i
open my arms to whatever blows she strikes me with,
they’re kisses on these panting lips and
this is life knocking me down and
this is life wanting me on the ground and
i will stay here while she has her way with me
passion: pain and ardor and love
this is life