All I Can Muster

I never get tired of this pic­ture. Each fea­ture a lit­tle lost and iso­lated on that expan­sive face. She has a halo and a birth­day hat; melan­choly as a saint, yet unmoved as a child. Not exactly the best motif for me, but I feel peace­ful when I look at it. My life is…flabby right now. I’m try­ing to work with the flab, through the flab, and the are results a lit­tle odd. Oh, well.


Every time you say it aloud
your debts fly through you clean
back­wards, and you have a hole
in the unmis­tak­able shape
of what you did.

Mine is shaped like a lump,
I don’t know what it is
I didn’t feel it pass through me
I’m gonna say it again

Mine is shaped like the
expen­sive bathrobe
I got for christ­mas
after I specif­i­cally told my mom
I did not want it.

It is not shaped like yoga lessons,
or babies with ear­rings
or the appalachian trail
but it will be one day.

2 Responses to “All I Can Muster”


  • Damn. Now I’m cry­ing cause my head is bob­bing in this god damn sea. And every time I come up for air I catch eyes with real humans. It hap­pens just when I am afaid that noth­ing will save us.

  • I feel as if we were in a sim­i­lar place lately. (I’m writ­ing this as we are video chat­ting). Could we have a retreat? We could hire a crew to film us in the woods. And it would be pretty.

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