You move me chemically more than any other person

in my mother's basement
once upon a time she ******* a clothes line
though most of the time
the line
was used to hang up
hangers
precariously hooked to a rope becoming less taut
as the years go on

the paradox of garage sale hand-me-downs of broken homes
as bodies for clothes become subtracted they make room for memories
we grow heavier by
as the hangers continue to multiply unused
clothes hangers are sacred
they are ghost as zygotes

back then there were days
I would wear my woven leather belt for an inverted neck tie
on those days
tie the other end to the wooden cross supports in the basement ceiling
then tip-toeing up
on a beat-up old stool
play chicken
a game of chicken with nobody
a side of extra mc chicken sauce for the soul

I wonder now
how if anyone would've wondered
if I had died never really learning how to wear a belt
or how to properly tie a neck-tie
kids today wear their pants too low
and parents back then were way too given to involuntary penance

to up the ante
I would write a list on the wooden beams in the ceiling
each time I got up there
for all the reasons I got up there
in attempt to embellish the exit sign
singing ugly duckling swan song echo
sedated by the attempt
training wheels for Icarus syndrome

it wasn't that my youth was in disillusion
I just never really learned how to measure distance properly
a pair of breaking parents
an unwanted pregnancy
"What's with in arms' reach?"
a game of catch
a game of release
a flight of stairs in one step
"it's not your fault kid
but you're gonna have to get hurt anyway"

funny how when you are teetering on stoic infinity
balanced like an idle pendulum
a noose becomes a life-support system
dance like no one is watching

I don't play those games anymore
my bones have gotten too heavy to bet against
memories I still wish to change
knees too weighted to two-step the precipice
on weekends

and since practicing how to use my legs again
and again
I now prefer walking this earth
wearing my belt around my equator
over drawstrings around my neck

the basement has since been renovated
no more wooden crosses
exposed in the ceiling
I don't play childish games anymore
I just do my laundry there

What am I afraid of?
Here is some sort of list,
I'm afraid of snakes, bugs, bats, birds, and nearly anything that can fly!
Those aren't the only things I'm afraid of that are also alive though.
I'm afraid of horses, piranhas, elephants and heights
Pregnancy, loud noises, hospitals and walking outside alone at night.
I could probably go on and on with this list because fear is somewhat infinite and I will
I'm afraid of loud noises, being left behind and the germs of childhood friends and others who could've smothered them on my pillow from drooling at night
I'm afraid of school, females, males, and people in general. Failing. Falling. Drowning and death. Who knew there could be so many things haunting me?
****. Bridges that are taller than me, being lied to, aging, and foods that are too spicy.. It may sound childish, just stay away from me if you're eating spicy calamari..


Did you think I was done? Because I've only just begun..
I'm afraid of situations, such as when people distance themselves from me too quickly. It ties into my fear of being left behind,
Don't abandon me.
I'm afraid of my mom, needles, parties and more it's mostly because of past experience, but I'll leave out the gore..

Crooked nose
Shy smirk
Freckles
Thousands of them
Eye lashes
Eyes
Blue eyes
Or were they green
They were beautiful
Lips
God I want to kiss them
Collar bones
Pale skin
Birth marks
Secret birth marks
Scars
Laugh
I wanna fill my head with that laugh
White teeth
You
You
You
Perfect

I want to sit and eat ice cream
Until I can’t eat any more.
I want wake up late each day
Until I can’t sleep any more.
I want to take people out to eat
At the most expensive places
And watch the joy spread out
All over each of their faces.

I don’t want to seem greedy
So don’t go off in a huff.
I don’t want an excess of things.
Really, I want just enough.
Just enough to buy presents
For the people I really like.
The rest of the salesmen
Can take a royal hike.

I want to go swimming in
A peaceful hidden lake.
I want to ride the bumper cars
And never hit the brake.
I’ll gladly clean up backstage
At a hit Broadway show.
I want to drive a fast car
As quickly as it will go.

I want to be in a big movie;
Have some speaking lines.
Be invited to the Academy awards;
The name on the card mine.
I want to perform at Carnegie Hall
So they hear me in the back row,
When I sing songs that I wrote
And receive a standing ‘O’.

I want some of my own poetry
To be printed in the NY Times
With plaudits and huzzahs
And a 12 point printed byline.
I want to have to sign autographs
When I got out to eat somewhere.
And, have lots of money in the bank.
And still have plenty to share.

As long as I am wishing here
I may as well tell the truth.
After all it would do no good
To wish for good looks and youth.
It’s not all that much different than
Making a list for Santa Claus.
So saying exactly what I want
Won’t give me a moment’s pause.

But if I get my fondest wishes
Everything I’d like the most
I want something huge and fun
And I am not trying to boast.
I wish everybody could get
At least a few of their list.
So, write your own list out today
And make sure nothing is missed.

Take the plunge with me
Answer to the irrevocable calling that is this moment
Maybe in comparison the fear you might have if you were to jump off a cliff bungee jumping.
For this we won't have harnesses
Only flesh embodied, skin caressed with the warmth of the blankets and each other.
Swim with me in this forbidden pool
The night is young and the taste of white wine heavy on your tongue

We ate Frank Fleming's Tongue Cake
Smoking cigarettes in stone gardens where we're not supposed to
Looking Down Yosemite Valley and yeah we were in that valley
"They moved the piano." I tell you. I don't know where it's gone.
"I guess it was contemporary art."
I say, "You're contemporary art..." "Don't worry death is at the laundromat, not here." and I pull out my best Mona Lisa smile.

It's silent here, the color white seems out of place

Kerry James Marshall is speaking history to us
Renaissance is falling on deaf ears
I tell you I want a Native American cradle if I'm ever a mother
And the kids will have fishbones and legends
                                                       instead of Pop Art Princess, barbie

Sally Mann, she left me heartbroken
with silver prints/photocopies of childhood like ghosts
Botero's Reclining **** looks comfy
And there's a Dali missing.