Monthly Archives: December 2008

The Most Dangerous Thought You Never Ever Allow Yourself to Think

She sleeps beside me
on the couch as I sit
working at things
in which I have trouble
finding worth
while her brothers
and their friends stomp
the house. They’re laughing
as she pouts and pulls
her ‘beatsie’, a pink
blanket, closer to
her chin. I smooth
her soft curls
until she falls asleep.
I know.
I know.
I know.
There is laundry
and dishes, toys
to be tidied, toilets
to clean. I should do all this
in a sprint while she sleeps.
I know these things.
It’s a knowledge
that, over eleven years,
has become a scar in my brain.

I want to give up.

Today. I want to be saved
by someone stronger
than me.

Gabriel’s Poem

You must sit alone,
head balanced
on your left
hand, shoulders following
the lean, pen
in your right
hand stumbling
across the pages,
scrawling script
on the black marbled mead
you purchased
because where you
are, you had to have
the black marbled mead
composition book
popular in American
movies and T.V. series.

The streets you’ve shown
me are clean,
timeless spires crowned
with brittle cell phone towers.
Alien green kiosks offer information,
beckon seductively.

Not All About Me

Tonight she won’t have nightmares, cry
out in her sleep, tossing,
turning and sweating.
She won’t have to cling
to me.
The darkness will disappear
from beneath their eyes.
They’ll do their homework
at the kitchen table,
get to bed
on time
and wake to their favorite
cereal and cartoons.

The laundry pile
will re-disappear, the broken
dishes forgotten
and the shouting
by them at least.

Crying in the shower
is like being
a chameleon.

I rinse it all down
the drain. Shaving cream,
and shampoo.

It’s Time to Pre-Order the LiteraryMary Print Journal

The LiteraryMary print journal is now available for pre-order for $10.00 plus shipping, which is a discount of two dollars off what we will be offering it for when we release it on January first.   You can read about the first issue under the Issues tab on the home page, and you can purchase it here.  We will be printing a limited amount, so if you are planning to pick one up, I highly recommend that you reserve a copy as soon as possible.

Howard Hughes Lived For a Time Among Jars of Piss, Elliott Smith Stabbed Himself Twice in the Chest

I eat less so he’ll love me
more. He does not ask me to do this.
I read messages
people send me.
None of us ever writes
by hand. We send
little messages,
sentiments. It’s okay
because they are sincere.
We all have
full of text, we have bank
accounts full of numbers
or not.
I owe someone a letter.
A real one.
I owe Well’s Fargo
thousands of dollars.
I go
to college to pay
for going
to college.

I eat less so he’ll love me
more. He gives me compliments.
He says he loves my ass.
When I’m lying in the bath
alone, the skin on my belly is different
than the skin everywhere else
on my body.
I’ve had four children.
He’s never smashed my head
into the car window, never beat
my eggshell skull
against glass.
He didn’t scream insults
under the suffocating
sublimity of a country sky
at night.
That wasn’t him
but he also didn’t see.
He couldn’t stop it.
He wasn’t there then.
He has only seen every inch
of my naked body.
I don’t know what to say
when he tells me
how beautiful
I am to him.

Some days I eat nothing
at all, which has nothing to do
with him. My stomach burns
and I feel hyper alive.
He loves my children.
I’m afraid he’ll discover
I don’t know what to do
with a good man.

I eat less so he’ll love me
more. He does not ask me to do this.
I once met a man in a bar
who asked me if I am famous.
I once met another man in a bar
who told me he knew
where I’d been
the night before.
He thought I should call him.
He gave me his phone number.

Some days I eat far too much
and never feel full.
He sent me gifts in the mail.
He has a mother
who likes me.
She sent me cookies.
She asked how I am feeling.
He sent me chocolate and tea
and orange split peas.
He sent me a letter
he had written by hand.

Somebody That I Used to Know – Elliott Smith