Absence

i need to tell you something
it is a story
it is a story i have told before
it is a story i have never told well i need too

picture a man
then picture me
sometimes i still see the man but it's never actually
picture the man loving me
picture the man loving me while i am loving him

he was my first
man
love
the first
kiss the first
trem-bull-ing in my stomach the first
arms around me since my mothersfathers stop
ped being the best armor protection

he saw me and
was the first to show
the good and beautiful could grow
in me
the first to kiss the first kiss the first lips the first me lips his the kiss

happened in my birthday present

See he
for my 18th birthday
uh
got us a room at the westin
it was a huge surprise and
when he told me

no pressure of course
nothing will you don't want to happen

the trem bull in hap pened in my sto mach like this and i
said yes i'd like
i'd like that

we walked not holding hands and i was scared his
arms held me turned me his lips

kissed me

next morning i bought breakfast for me
he
had a hearing or something owned a business didn't explain but okay cause

i gli ded home

saw him once af
ter for just hal
an hour then

the uh of him
no calls no text no
visitinhimatwork no
meals out dreams in no
eyes no nose no arms no lips no
him

the absence of him crept in lik
a slow crescendo of broken horns and
a sync o pat ic percussion of cryin kids and
the conductor'ss passed out and the choir's strung out on
someshit and they're wailin n wailin n wailin n wailin n

the absence of him
stole the tremor of
my stomach n
turned to stone only it was glass n broken n
it broke my heart in like
no more met aph or si mi le in me til
i didn't feel the absence of him

I'm gonna follow up with a recording of me reading this!

Morning Rythm

I'm woken up most mornings
By either a gentle mix of piano
and a delicately played flute,
or Colin Meloy apologising to Steven
for losing his bicycle again.
I have friends who say
that morning wood is the best way
to start a day,
but I am of the opinion
that this is better,
and easier to clean.

Let the sparrow out of it's wicker basket

And show it the stage

Just like a little bird
I hop
And sing
Quietly
Breathing short
shallow breaths
and breathing a lot
But then I fly away
When my branch is shaken
Taking flight
And not looking back;
not with my eyes, anyway.

I wish I were more
Like a classic tenor
Full of power
And might
Balanced with delicacy of thought
and of feeling
Filling the space around me
With whatever I want
And standing my ground
Connected with the earth
With my eyes wide open
Taking a breath only occasionally
But when I do,
I breath in the world.

Regina Spektor's Voice Break

Like a hiccough
only melodic
and filled with beauty
                              art
                                  and the free feeling you get
                                          just before you leap
                                                from a swing
                              landing hard
      and rushing back on

Amy Grant
Sang about Life
                  Love
            And Other Mysteries

I want to know
Why is that important to us
And why do we need answers

Call on Me Inspired This

Dancing
But not free
Not wild
Not with the wind
And the trees
And the sky

But Dancing.
With sweat.
And unpleasant people.
Loud music.
Lights.
Headaches.
Drugs.

But the sweat is good
Not all the people are unpleasant
With the music so loud, you can feel it inside of your body
Lights that take you away to another place
Your head hurting because it's so full
And drugs

Well
Less said about that
The better.

(http://youtube.com/watch?v=Rk_MtobEmVQ)