Personal Post

dig your fingers until blood

pull out
empty spaces (for no)
missing dock
detail at chapel beach
death of a philistine
on loan
my injured psyche
three little indians

an old me in a new dream, driving old roads, creating them with our presence--the trees part, it is the first time. the farther away we get the closer we are to home. a huge crow on the yellow line, stares us down, doesn't move as we fly past at 65. diamonds on the souls of her shoes on the radio, i sneak a look at my feet. the phones don't work, the wheels don't touch the road. stepping into an abandoned building, digging deeper i enter a room with "death" spraypainted on the wall and life coming through the slashes in the boarded window. i take an abandoned book away with me called "the light here kindled." we might be the ones, the plastic messiahs. we drive through ghost towns, a new old west, shooting out windows with our finger guns. dancing in the dark on the radio, as if choreographed we spontaneously extend our hands in unison to pull courtney up onto the stage. we laugh until our faces hurt. we hike twelve miles along a shoreline, chapel rock, chapel beach, a fraudulent turquoise water. it is a chapel of a different sort, worship of love through fire, things burnt to the ground and rebuilt. the waves carry the sound of potential. we collect rocks shaped like hearts. locked out of our car with dairy queen. they're closing for the season, hurry up hurry up. the moon is full and low and the color of his back teeth. my hands shake, is it you or too much french press? we step out to photograph a collapsing home, a man tells us it was his parents' original homestead when they came from finland. apples fall from a tree just beside the front door, bees buzz and fermentation fills the air. what's an apple among thieves? we find an abandoned train, run along the tops of the cars. i stick my head up through the sunroof on the highway to take a picture and my sunglasses blow off my face. good raybans. i wonder why dogs do it. later i find them in the backseat, where god set them for me. god says i'll go down for you. that's love. you can wager your soul on the ring of a church bell.

4 responses

  • Penny Nannini

    Penny Nannini   gave props (9 Sep 2009):

    your story makes me's THAT good.

  • jen bellefleur

    jen bellefleur said (9 Sep 2009):

    aw, that's so sweet penny. thank you for hearing me.

  • david ong

    david ong gave props (9 Sep 2009):

    this need to be published!!!!

  • Rhio9 (Rhio9)

    Rhio9 (Rhio9) (Deleted) said (14 Sep 2009):

    very poetic and poignant. i like the line "the moon is full and low and the color of his back teeth." and the line, "god says i'll go down for you. that's love. you can wager your soul on the ring of a churchbell."

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