My Three Year Poem

Exerts from my journal. In chronological order. Between 2006 and 2009

Had a nightmare last night that I woke up

in the U.S.

that I had

gone home. /

I told my parents I had

to go. They could hear

pigs squealing in the background. /

He said it’s such a long time

when you come

back. I will be a man and I said

stop. /

“I’m restless and figity and so are you.

And we’ll always be this way. Sorry to

break it to you. It’s going to a

bitch sometimes.

But

it’s the way it has to be.” I didn’t

write back. /

Do GRES in Bangkok– ideally. /

I found out my dad– dad– my father– not exactly sure

why

I blanked on that. My Dad

had a heart attack. I feel like my chest

the circumference around my breasts

hurt. /

In bed, dark- hate dark

in Phang Nga- alone- I’m like a baby

again. /

A whiskey and water balanced

on his belly. I may see it now. You get

further and further out. More

and more alone. The fan makes

a cranking sound. /

I think of boys

like husbands.

Who could I marry? /

Everyone has been praising me recently

for being here and I

can’t stand it. /

A little drunk off beers– that’s not entirely

honest

and whiskies alone. Not eating a lot. It’s a

control thing. /

Last night I had nightmares. Hundreds of them.

Where I had to force myself. To open my eyes. To wake up.

In between all of that I dreamt I saw Peter Edling– he had very blue eyes-

he was walking towards me and a flock of great

white

birds

giant

were flying over us and then stopped-midflight,

in their flight- against the blue cool sky. Peter said

that’s the most beautiful

thing I have ever seen. /

I submitted my NYU application. /

I feel like I am on a brink of a break

down. Just stomp through it.

Like a solider. /

I’m stuck on a jumbo jet. If I miss

my connection in Japan. What will happen? /

I have to figure out. I have no idea

what I will do after

Oregon.  Can I get my book

published? I have to get

my book published. /

Peter and Katie and Will and I were the last ones up

in the basement. Nothing changes. /

I feel like I found myself

again.

There is a Keith Haring mural between my apartment

and school. /

I made Gavin go the wreck

room. I started crying over my salad

and whiskey. About– I’m not even

sure- not wanting to live in

New York City.

I was in such a natural pattern in Vermont. Writing and

waking up early and

clean air.

Gavin loves me so much.