(no subject)
i sat on a boat in california with my significant other and the men in his family, and i caught my first fish and pulled a hook from its mouth and held its body and the slipping of soft mucous green whacking at air, and i felt it dying and screamed when it's life force was stronger than my grip and it fell from my hands and scratched me with its fin and landed on the ground next to another rock fish that was pink, caught by the person who i sleep on a bed with every night. later, after an evening and a night and a morning of blood boiling and meeting, resting on arms and a car seat, a boat motor and fearful feared waves, we cooked these fish side by side and ate them with lemon and vegetables cooked in cornmeal, in our forks and the forks of his family who he loved as much as he feared their ability to deny, in a million dollar beach house in california surrounded by so many things bought on such new dollars that they were bought only with matching in mind. i sat on this boat and i thought of writing out a hum to all of you, who i love and miss, who may not allow yourselves to know how much i love because i have not said it to your ear recently. i feel the newborns and the death writhing out of you all, in the colors that make up halos and your footprints rising on the prints of a giant's roar. i am coming to new york next tuesday. i lost my last cell phone, and my collection of numbers. please call me. 917 770 3644
same same
same same