comma dreams

it was your wedding. 
it was in a big room near a field and there were a lot of people there. you wouldn't look at me and i wanted you to. of course. 'baby' she said, and smiled. you sang her a song on your guitar and then later on when no one was looking you sang it quietly in my ear, you looked at me and you mouthed "one year"  and i ran out into the field and kept running , running and crying at the same time, i wanted you to notice i wasn't around, like the radiohead song.  i can remember what the room looked like, and the field but mostly i just remember the feeling of being there, i think that's how most things go. in the field i was laying in the grass, like the poem i wrote before i fell asleep, i was looking at the sky from upside down, and i think it was shaking. you looked like the most familiar thing in the world, something that has been around forever, inside me or around me, under my skin or in the air i have been breathing back and forth all of my life and yet you were far, you were in a negative space i could not get to. a part of life that doesn't exist anymore, not for me. this was tugging at my heart strings like a really loud sound. it felt like the scariest thing that could ever happen.

she surprised you with something, a small adventure,  some scavenger hunt for you to complete and i was dreamy for all the things i would have done if it were me, what i would have done for you. also "christmas lights" i said to some girl next to me "so many christmas lights." you started the search, alone, but i could see what you saw. i was seeing for you and it felt just so safe. there was a tunnel and you crouched down and crawled in, inside was a stone wall with my name carved into it and you touched both R's, your mouth a little open. to the left was a stone statue of a lion,  it was perched on the top with it's legs crossed and it had a mans voice despite the lack of a mane, it was tapping it's paw, it sighed - it said "it's not what you think it is" and looked at it's claws despondently. 
underneath it were two doors and you opened one and she crawled out, her body was distorted and small, her hair buzzed, she looked sick and scared, she crawled out and to the other side of the statue and opened the door, she said her own name like a crying out, on the floor of the tiny room she opened were a line of dolls, skinny and small, like humans still alive you could hold in your hand but it was too dark to see. the lion said some things i couldn't understand, he quoted something that sounded like a bible passage and  then  changed into what looked like us, together, and you said something out loud, what would have been me in the statue looked up and the eyes got really white, white and sad.

8/1


there is a past me and a present me.
both 
flailing
my brain is a fog i cannot step into
at the end of the fog there is a light 
it is not the sort of light you picture 
when someone says to you: 'light'
it is something else entirely.
when i am there, when i get there
i will bring you with me
and i will tell the whole world everything.
today is august 1st.

aerially, undone

i recognize you aerially is how i know we used to fly, i remember you aerially. “so the cosmonaut" is how she starts and i say holy shit, i said, that cosmonaut is me. its me, its that same sound.

there is more. you know, always.

lists for unfed angels

it's coming, i think, she says, quietly, with her hands where they always are.
it's alive.