oceansalways.blogspot.com

"wh" questions [acquired between the ages of 2 and 4, accentuated at 22]

what do you want
and where are you going
and who do you want
and who do you love
and how will you show it
and how will you know it
and what will you say
and how will you say it
and where/when will you leave it all behind
and, then, start back up again

49th parallel

dear 49th parallel
thank you so, so, so much for letting me, FINALLY, cross you.

explorations.

i want to explore
your deep, dark depths
the inner thoughts,
wedged between your ribs
caught in your cage

taking each other apart,
bone by bone.

one moon,
two souls,
and an empty speedway.

i have a tumblr now too, for all things inspiration:

laurelisays.tumblr.com

p a r i s on the brain.

trey took this.
being on an island means i don't get across the ocean much.
but, i am excited for future photos in paris... next year.

'i fell in love at the seaside'

[my boy sends love notes]

i bring my work home:

'brilliant burning sea'

this story happens in a bathtub.  mine.
the water curling over my face, for a moment i thought of waves.
of course, there were none.  this was a bath, not the ocean.  or the sea.

i felt like those lured by the lorelei.  but i am not a sailor.  or a man.
somewhere in those seas are boats that follow starlight
and the thoughts of women left behind.
not me, not me, not me.

i scratched around my ankle, skin flakes filling my fingernails.
 this was the dead sea.
everything floating around, wisps of hair capturing it all.
life in the lifeless.  molecules and atoms and pieces of a person.

everything i could write about the ocean is in the past.
too closed off now -- nothing could flow.

the reflection from the mirror left me floating on a glass floor.
as i pushed my hand into it all, i broke the barrier.
so this is what the titanic was like.  the ships that didn't get away.
everything captured by the sea, silenced by the waves.

my bathtub tears,
bits of the ocean,
briny.

one big run-on sentence,
seas singing songs
and waves working out words,
that is living.
no hooks cast, no anchors dropped.
just me.  and the sea.

'Don’t get to close, you may see dreams come true and wishes appear from thin air' -j.f.

i probably will tell you the truth
and you probably won't like it
but at least i have that
(the truth)
because with it
and this
and him
and her
and the world
there's nothing that won't feel real
[i want peaks and jumps in my love lines... none of this horizontal business]

sometimes, you learn things.

that comma
and how much it means to you
makes it mean just that much more to me.

a love for language
between a you and a me

i'm liking these subjects
and i'm liking these verbs
and i'm swooning at what they're doing together

action in writing
meaning in phrase
moments that hang in the air
because of stanzas
and indents
and ...

something about this madness
makes sense with that comma
and colon
and sentence structure

(language will kill you.
but without it -- you'd be just as mad.
i'll write my way into this feeling
without a comma to spare)

you and i
are sitting on opposite sides of this place
i can count the hours
and the minutes
between us

but it's more than that.

july flame.

wanderlust-ing.

what are you doing this year? more importantly, who are you doing it with? there's a bunch of pronouns floating outside my door, becoming their very own sea of letters. lawrence's thoughts begin to mingle with them. e.e. cummings tells them to throw away their question marks. all of a sudden, we are an ocean of 'romaniticism'. i smell stardust. i see clouds.

>>wanderlust.

right now,
i refuse to wash my hair.
salt infused,
sunlight dried,
i want to swim in this gold sea.

by the family trees.

fresh start.

so this is what losing vision(s) is like.

the ocean, the ocean, the ocean and i,
we don't have time
for your tidal wave(s) of insecurity,
your tide pool(s) of tears,

you need new words
you need new ways
'cause i'm out to sea
and you're in the distance
and i'll be just fine.

set your targets.

who's winning this war.
armed with poets,
armed with words,
armed with this personification:
a poem -- her beauty, it's going to be enough
to stop you (in the middle of your verbal sparring match).

some get degrees -- i went to university to find out this:

it's okay,
i'm a romanticist.

making reality (the kind that travels, lives, loves)

a dash of courage,
a cup of patience,
and, spoonfuls of dreams.

rising.

sticks and stones are of the earth
clouds and sky, they bring new birth
of raging winds and waterfalls
of moonlight love and stars that fall
the galaxy it spins for you
your hopes and dreams - they rest there too
with energy of golden rays
you'll dance and piroutte always (all ways).
and watch the world that twirls for you
as your dreams whisper "what shouldn't you do?"

the great divide.

how it all became an anchor.

l o r e l e i

i have fabulous felines.

making freckles:

laying out,
no bra,
hair drenched,
in sweat,
in water,
in sunbeams,
the soft sounds of melody and may
reach your ears
and then your tongue.

listening, you speak,
"no more watermelon,
we're turning into raindrops!"

melody and may leave the porch,
their cigarette smoke curling behind them.
laila and lily are left,
to drink in their scent
and the air stained ivory.

thoughts on a thursday in december.

bring back the typewriters,
i want to get lost in your ink blots!

d o s s i e r.

if yusef can do it,
why can't i?

blonde island with your blue chiffon

and seafoam bangles,

you could float away,

you could not exist,

you could be so many things,

but to me, you just are (everything, all things, love).

see like me magazine.

my friend trey published a magazine.  i'm in it.  check it out here:
http://www.seelike.me/post/270101188/see-like-me-rare-issue

h a p p y h o l i d a y s

impossible things.

pale child of summer,
missing summer sun,
but mostly, the light.

truths become folded into pockets,
tucked under blankets,
lost in the dark days,
hushed by rainfall.

no more love letters,
just debates with a map,
which route to take,
which sea to fall into
(catch me).

d e n n i (love).

we talk astrology & horoscopes

tarot cards, dreams & hopes 

i (and) love (and) you.

(we can pop bottles all night).

"not all who wander are lost" - someone brilliant.

so which is it?

this you and me thing

is (not)

a reason for 

me to (stop) dream(ing)

(reality's not a pretty place, anyways).

tides.

china beach.

my home.

what are you made of.

moon walkers,

star chasers, 

cloud drifters,

foreign misters,

northern narine,

eastern elle,

southern seas,

western swells,                  

border dancers,

land seekers,

ocean lovers,

heart keepers,

don't you go passing (me) by.  

the summer house (a time for moving).

married to the sea.

want it (you can get it).

i'm listening to your looks.

an intense conversation.

inside a novel.

today i picked up a book on mermaid legends.

there we were.

i feel you.

hey baby,

let's make a film noir.

an island.

".....a night full of talking that hurts, my worst held-back secrets. everything has to do with loving and not loving....."

indonesia (you're in my heart).

no more piano.

wonder-dummied.

your mouth was making scrambled egg words.

letters were whisking everywhere,

around my mind, onto the floor,

in and out of your bed.

sentences were torn apart,

fragments were splattering the walls, 

and i am fairly certain that half a truth,

a lie or two, and three syllables (i love you),

made it out the door.

s u m m e r, i s l a n d s, b e s t f r i e n d s.

yellowpoint.

china beach.