Nowhere Here Now

[ohnopopejoan]

Wanted New

Never mind the time we spent dancing naked on the beach under the full moon. Our animated gestures were nothing but mere infatuation.  We were children innocently waiting for presents. Reality finally came, so we rummaged through the pages of our most precious memories.  I can’t help cherishing the first time I made you smile. Remembering the waterfall washing over your breasts, the gap in your teeth, voice caressing the country fog, pages of synapses will forever be dog-eared.   

[ohnopopejoan]

Got it Bad

It's getting hard to let go of that obsessive, desperate, lovesick emotion. Rational thought processes try their best to fight the impatient motivation that always wants to be recognized by an invisible lover. They try to remind me that I've been through this before. I myself have neglected old flames who have been persistently drawn to me - even detested them. We only love one person at a time. All the others.... well.... you never know.

[ohnopopejoan]

brand new jeans.... tired old soul

[ohnopopejoan]

For an old friend who knew me well....

"See you next time eating the pudding."

[ohnopopejoan]

Dead Father's Letter to His Long Lost Son

Dear Terrence,

Hey son. I don't blame you if you tear this letter up - me never being there for you and all. I have no great excuses, but I figure there may be a slight chance you want to hear my final words.

Aside from missing you grow up, the thing I regret the most is how I didn’t pursue your mother after our one night together. I did not know how to express my true feelings for her. I wanted to tell her that she was beautiful and she was the best I ever had, but I didn’t really know how to say it. She had an intimidating presence to say the least, but I had a feeling she liked me, just not in any serious way. After all, it was a night full of drinking and smoking. Some of our true feelings must have been a little distorted.

So I waited for her to call me back, and after a few weeks of never hearing back from her, I decided to sneak into her bedroom while she was sleeping. I stroked her hair a few times and listened to her snore for a little while, but I never woke her. I wouldn’t have known how to explain myself, nor did I have any big plans to sweep her off her feet. I was a poor dilettante at that time - tied up in debt, petty obligations, and other imaginary struggles. These days I really do regret not waking her. I am more emotionally attached now, and I see things differently than I did when I was that young drunk twenty-two year old. When I imagine her with me now, I see us making passionate love - always and forever. That’s just my imagination, but it feels real enough.

It's too late to try again. She's long gone now - which you already know. I'll never see that penetrating look in her eyes again. To me, she'll forever remain the mysterious beauty with the penetrating look. And you Terrence, well I suppose I'll always picture you as some beautiful angel looking down at me with a sorrowful expression.  Maybe that's how it was meant to be.

All of my love goes to you and your mother. You both were the best things to happen to me. That may not mean much, but I sincerely hope these words reach you in some small way.

Yours truly,

Vincent

[ohnopopejoan]

Body Elegy

How terribly the brain

Misses the heart

When it is blown apart by shells

Hands have made.

[ohnopopejoan]

Dream 1

Last night I dreamed that I was walking through a corn field. I could vaguely make out what appeared to be a group of ghostly children following me around under the full moon. Not long after I began to notice these strange children, a large rustling in the corn startled me. Upon further examination, I found one of the small ghost children being mauled by a lioness. At first, I felt like running away, because I didn't want to be next. Then I saw that the ghost child being mauled was not a mere ghost child anymore. It was my best friend from elementary school, Timmy. I remember feeling a sick feeling in my stomach, and as I looked away from the horrific scene, I found a large knife lying on the ground. All of the other nameless ghost children looked back and forth between me and the lioness. The looks on their faces were full of shock and interest, but they continued to stand and do nothing. All of the sudden I felt a surge of confidence and duty to save Timmy from the lioness. I picked up the large knife and walked toward the vicious lioness. Once she spotted me, she immediately let go of Timmy and pounced on me. I was taken by surprise, but the attack from the lioness felt so weak it was like being hugged by a giant stuffed animal. I was still afraid that at any moment pain would start to become a reality, so I drew the knife. Almost as if the blade were moving by itself, I cut open the lioness from her chest to the bottom of her belly. The cutting felt like the unzipping of a coat. The lioness laid down calmly and looked at me with a sleepy expression. I did not check to see if anything gruesome was oozing out of her because I was so captivated by her calm demeanor. It was as if she had given birth and she was proud, exhausted, and relieved all at the same time. All the small ghostly children were still standing around looking amazed by what had unfolded. Timmy seemed to be doing okay. I can't remember what happened after that.    

[ohnopopejoan]

Pears

My pears are staring at me with their beady little eyes of fiber. I remember being drawn to them at the farmer's market last Wednesday. Now I'm unsure of their intentions. They seem to be sizing me up as if I may not deserve a healthy digestion. Perhaps I ravished one too many pears already.

My fiber intake could cure cancer. All those juicy pears were more than just juicy pears. I wish they knew how much I loved them. I wouldn't devour them without the utmost respect. That is why I like to perform a ritual when I eat my pears. I prepare an elaborate picnic, go out under a starry night down by the river, blow into a didgeridoo, shake a couple maracas, pray to the goddess of pears, and then slowly bite into each pear. I'll never change. The pear gene runs deep in my family. Generation after generation we have thrived on the sweet taste of pear.