Chelsea Walls

"I want to be a lost poem in a stranger's coat pocket, that conveys the importance of you.

To assure you of my desire, to assure you of dreams. I want all the possibilities of you in writing.

I want to give you your reflection, I want your eyes on me, I want to travel to the lightness with you and stay there, and I want everything before you...

...everything before you to follow us like a trail behind me.

I want never to say goodbye to you, even on the street corner or the phone.

I want, I want so much... I'm breathless.

I want to put my power into a poem to burn a hole in your pocket so I can sew it.

I want my words to scream through you. I want the poem not to mean that much.

And I want to contradict myself by accident, and for you to know what I mean.

I want you to be distant and for me to feel you close, I want endless days when it's day and... nighttime never to end when it's night.

I want all the seasons in one day. I want the sun to set before us and come up in front of us.

I want water up to our waists and to be drenched by the rain, up to our ankles with holes in our shoes.

...with holes in our shoes. I want to think your thoughts because they're mine.

I want only what's urgent with you.

I want to get in the way of the barriers and I want you to be a tough guy when you're supposed to,

like you do already.

...when you're supposed to. And I want you to be tender, like you do already.

And I want us to have met for a reason and I want that reason to be important.

And I want it to be bigger than us, I want it to take over us.

I want to forget. I want to remember us.

And when you say you love me I don't want to think you really mean New York City, and all the fun

we have in it.

And I want your smile always, and your grimaces too.

I want your scar on my lips, and I want your disappointments in my heart.

I want your strength in my soul and I want your soul in my eyes.

I want to believe everything you say, and I do.

And I want you to tell me what's best when I don't know.

And when you're lost I want to find you.

And when you're weary I want to give you steeples and cathedral thoughts and coliseum dreams.

I want to drag you from the darkness and kneel with you exhausted with the blinding light blaring on us... and..."

♥Jill

C'est mercredi

The woman is perfected.

Her dead

Body wears the smile of accomplishment.

The illusion of a Greek necessity

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,

Her bare

Feet seem to be saying:

We have come so far, it is over.

Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,

One at each little

Pitcher of milk, now empty.

She has folded
Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden
Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.

The moon has nothing to be sad about,

Staring from her hood of bone.

She is used to this sort of thing.

Her blacks crackle and drag.

(Edge, Sylvia Plath)

♥Jill

model_couture

Inherit the wind

I live between the heron and the wren,

Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What's madness but nobility of soul

At odds with circumstance?

The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

Theodore Roethke, In A Dark Time

Inherit the wind and fly,

♥Jill

knighttcat

Corner of the hotel, corner of your heart

I shut one eye and try to look.

Is everything brighter, smaller, better?

It isn't.

I'll shut both eyes, but

Then I wouldn't even be able to see.

What if I shut my heart down?

Everything might be brighter, smaller, better.

Can't wait.

♥Jill

*Dress from Topshop, sandals from Chelsi Leather, round sunglasses from a school bazaar*

We're all just a mess

And we're wearing stripes like bondages
Kicking off our heels

Sitting on the floor

Like we're all just a mess

Waiting to be cleaned up

Or maybe not.

♥Jill

(Dress from Topshop, blazer, tights)

This is the Hour of Lead-

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow-

First-Chill-then Stupor-then the letting go-

Emily Dickinson

♥Jill

Jacket from Wisdom, top from Bayo, scarf a gift

Back Away Slowly

I have a strange liking for suddenly backing out.

I like it when other things pop out of nowhere.

Rendering prayers to father time forgotten.

♥Jill

Walk away now.

Light.
A long drag.
Footsteps!
Should I run?
(There's nowhere to hide!)
Behind a tree, a twig!
(Fuck, I can't.)
Take a drag.
Exhale.
Heart pounding.
Hide behind the smoke!
(Fuck, I CAN'T.)
Footsteps.
Is someone there?
Footsteps walking away.

♥Jill

It's a trick!

Gingham's for the plighted maid,

Words in "The Satin Dress" Dorothy Parker laid
But I don't remember any promise I've made--
Nor the path for which tomorrow I'll trade.

At night when I'm high, I write things that rhyme.

*Tank, skirt, both from Topshop; wedges from my mother; bag from St. Francis Square*

♥Jill