Studying Hunger Journals Read online

  And punctuation, ask for that. Demand it. We need time. We edge around a code, must break it out. I know you don’t name time, the coke deciphers this in some last hour, an innocent silly painter’s view, you see the view, it’s grasped, they blew hard and harder for it, lost a Shakespeare’s crow he flew with us we fly right by and signal gesture, stew’s in the pot, we unctuate and clobber these designs, they’re passes at you, see the simple drift of that. Why suffer through the code, it’s a path, I’m on it, you get it. You get it? Caught in this design these ropes I’m exhausted, I’m wide awake I’m looking for a language that will carry you to this place: this place is isolated: it is here and this, this here: if you would knock on the door a few hundred feet away, I would answer it and let you in. The opening of the door would excite me and the gesture you would make of our novelty. I would understand that it was strange that you were here and that movement our movement in our sphere, sphere of action and of motion and feeling, all this is constricted and that it is hard to move and agree with feelings, hard to move and be staid and satisfied be excited not be denied. You and I would know this as you came in the door. I would answer it. You would make some gesture. You would move me. I would wait expectantly for the door to close behind you but that motion would seem longer to me than to you. To you I would appear nervous. You would wait for some sign. Seeing this I would do something dramatic something to satisfy a dream. Perhaps you would go outside again and repeat your entrance, only this time the door would be open and I would be sitting, my back to it, on the bed in some dream room. As it is here the bed is so far from the door that it cannot be a part of the stage for your entrance. It doesn’t matter. Let’s say that as you enter, you come in the door for the second time, let’s say you come in noiselessly. I’m not expecting you, I have my back to you, perhaps you even walk across the room and just as you extend your arms to take me by the shoulders I turn to see you, I had heard you coming in a moment before, we could say I had suspected you, had faith in you, it’s all the same, that question of movement comes in here again, you understand this way of talking about movement, it’s in a certain context, like, you say you’re keeping busy, you can’t stand to sit still, you don’t really mean this, you want me, but all this is irrelevant to this design which isn’t meant to be real this entrance your entrance is a clear fantasy this moment an entry merely in a notebook or other recording device, maybe something quicker, more attractive, electronic, blue, like you. I speak into the tape recorder. I say: there is a knock at the door, it is you. But before I can answer it you come in, the door is open. I am still sitting turned toward the door. You are seeking me. You can’t resist, even though… but that’s an element that figures later. In fact you are asleep now I’m sure. You’re an escapist. You deride the facts, sink into the pillows currents and wake refreshed. Let me tell you this one thing: it’s something I’ve never told you: I seize on you: you illustrate me, your sons design need, you are a fake and the you in oceans makes me two, you know it and can’t speak. Sleep doesn’t refresh me as it does you, you design cool shaking you make me angry, we’re cut short so we won’t walk in together, I’m always sure there’s more. I must begin to address myself now to my hunger since you’ve left me, haven’t dared, and how could you outside all context, you could investigate but you’re stuck, there’s a knock on the door. I know it’s you.

  Another hour goes by the wind, resist it, I’ll try to resist the wind, the wind comes in as a joke, mothers and fathers the same, I live in caves where they meet me, there are no other children. We flew, four corners. We resisted each other, we were stupid we missed our chance now we are crows, meet air there are colors on your chest you lie down, I lie on top of you, we speak correctly to each other, “There, not there,” “Be careful” and “Watch out, you know what I mean.” You don’t want me to lie on your penis, you are afraid. But why then am I sleeping with you? Your clothes are fresh I remember your smell we are in a small hotel room, a room named after a tree the cherry or magnolia room and in the adjoining room, there’s a common bathroom between, your wife and my sister are asleep in the same bed. Do you want me? I’m used to sleeping with my head on your stomach, I’m not afraid. There’s a knock on the door, you come in, I’m a woman, the script’s changed, you’re surprised at first, my presence is insistent, what happened then.

  How child like my parents were: and flies light on thing and flies light and milk tastes butter and sinks a ship as usual yes she had to suffer through her style her heavy style to get somewhere to touch and bury the dead, to seek to touch and bury the dead, you must investigate the dead remember to seek out the touch of and bury them do it yourself, and big flies light longer in the long slow (months) moon of investigation dash don’t know where you’re going, don’t know with a long sky towards morning, cooked uncooked and a direction shown sure it’s the four corners of the world and you identify yourself so far out to those four corners go the children of parents riding, you know this, you already know this, you’ve heard it, it seems to work right now.

  Mothers and fathers a grain to fill you and the movement (motion) of things you do in the dark, some natural like firestorms some too quick you are human, you relinquish your right to tell me this I spy on you so please watch me now, I’m innocent too, sleep. No of course not is the answer to the secret question you ask, yes, no, now you barrage me with questions and if they keep coming then I’ll know where you are so you better watch out, count to hundred in your state translation moon quick a match, it’s pretty sure that I saw you seeing separate a chance I saw you, keep to this code you made me and this is why, to me, nothing in a normal history is worth recording. States. You bent over and you and you are one. States of image. A door. Touch them. If they die, with them die. Don’t avoid this. And now a wide of work opens and closes but I’m not ready yet. I’m still with you. But you you seem to stop and start, come back. Seek out wide windows, I win, I’ve got your body yours it’s core and coil of cave and shelter showing this secret code communicates state wide world wide you’re in some state they’ll all agree I’m not so sure it’s you at stake and in control yes touch the molecule of ocean broth a feast you bring me like cannibal mother moon a feast your density your state suggests.

  Through the moist warm atmosphere of the room whose envelope unglues in calliope madness as each night precedes three hours of the day work week of hayrides crosstown in the buses nudes are driving when sudden like sun slivers, ice glass severs men, women not nude now flying flying now barely floating hanging on air, where’s the ceiling of this room, hanging there say or hovering, fair air blue-ribbon legs and spans eggs hatch on the bridge all the eggs and moon covers, it’s cause of moon and sweat covers, it’s cause of sweat millions systems throws, throws out severs, feeds milling seeking mixtures him and her and catches throws it back headlong, catches sex of system catcher mother father milk and all head and all headlong over zoom and over clean over precipice come and long ancestor rolling balls come and room room pending around boom the long one spirits mistral bath simoon directions and natural nautical sea heaps natural crevices nautical loom weave sell swell women diving sprite of loom spill weather driving mist on fishback smell currents drawing ten knots of a spill sky, meets sex of systems moment merchants wife currents mother father caves melts compass points down where sons (blue) and daughters (brown) rode there and stand reverse, met, rode mix rode horse soundless and more demons scatter pieces, slask a sky diamonds eye make out a second, listen to this.

  Totally fucked the train is going, there’s no more sweetness in ever going, moving a pace or a space on the board. Claws dig in to a nervous spot. You can’t even make out what’s being written in moving states like this, they aren’t states at all. A big book a giant book roots you in the moving train, what’s the use of it? Dull and heavy, I shouldn’t have told him so many stories I didn’t want to hear myself. Dear David the thing is if I write to you well it distracts me, it’s not the end of the world not by a long shot
, where am I. The cool information you give me, the fucking hot train, it’s my duty to fake it. A girl like me is sitting on the train. I wish I were unconscious now, I wish I were you, cool, and for my third choice I’ll take being richer. What’s the thing to having a talent, is it like having a television, don’t let it go to waste, you paid good money for it. Existence, just plain, why not, I’m sick, I dive into the water and down to touch the bottom of the pool, it’s a talent pool. No doubt about rising but I wish it was funnier, I wish it was work. Anyway it’s there, Times Square. I’m sick. Yes I know the next stop and the next one, paisley pants, black girl, no hair but a knot on her head, express leaves, local stays, it’s fucking hot. The man to my right is holding a paper open to the editorial page, the heading reads, “Over to you, David.” I look over. A man who looks like John Cassavetes and a couple of fat men. You remind me of you. I’m sick I’m full of it. I don’t want anything more to happen. It’s wearing off, I’m sweating, it’s getting dimmer, it’s dim protection, I wasn’t orphaned in a war, I don’t wanna hear about it. I’m only writing to keep moving, as protection to get there, it’s hot. Hot shit, lean Scandinavians, purple crosses in the war, how many do I get, nothing new. Bags and papers, 66 Street. Watches and leaning, dry cleaning, I suppose I’m getting there. Another base, a man with the Times, I’d like to be there or off somewhere. Max doesn’t have to account for himself today, he’ll be drinking beer right now. See that? 79 Street, Goodbye forever, I’m almost there. You won’t make me laugh today.

  Home see what words I write I want to see: it’s the end: you want to see how minds work: It’s mine it’s simple: I’ll tell you: Andy’s getting dressed, that’s all I can think to tell you, I like red plants it’s no mystery, you’re no charlatan, just the impossible, just between us, failing. So I gotta make a spectacle, special you. Mercedes-Benz. I’m not destructive. You’re crazy about me. You’ll be distracted. The mayor has suggested that it’s a very delicate subject. There are various ways of announcing things and so they have no need to speak: I have a new Asian connection, he’s the mayor of Chinatown and we are Chinese individuals, words cannot describe at least in one language, we have many, what I want to say to you. What is the decision of my desperation: I’ll tell you this much it’s the only thing I can do to only love you to force you into looking for a hotel, it’s August 23, 1972. You have some shortcomings, shall I name them? You’ll do anything I want, you know too much you know too little, that’s not very good, I must be able to do better than that, sure I can manipulate language and charm but never thought is never charmed magic, we need a medium, something in between, there’s nothing between us, half the time. I’m not desperate, I’m desperate for a move, think about it, how can I impress you that on you something so monstrous is coming over from me and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, that’s not it at all, that’s all biased and bared. Wanna come to a party?

  I will write in the big book again with the colored pens, no color seems right except this spring green and further real green, forest green and what they call bottle green, green of bottles a rich green I will write in forest green, greens change they develop. Scared of the good signs of green the green of earth with feet in it the green of stars seen from the earth, once again I don’t know enough words. You have the reasons for it. It was a beautiful afternoon. (I think of Les Levine who said that’s a pretty cheerful view of things and meant you don’t show the bad side the side to the side I guess he meant, in speaking of my memory, I think of Bartholomew who doesn’t know what being drunk is, who is protective by design.)

  So much time’s gone by. Some child, a picture of her, she punctuates the book. If you wanted to be mean, if you wanted to you could be very good at it, you could be mean. I am an expert. I am not mean. There is someone I love, then I don’t say much. I can sleep here sleep peacefully I’m almost in the sun, the sun’s on the floor, red, next to me, I am somewhat free. We are making a proposal, we are making a careful vow, we are not knowing, we are knowing everything. We are not weeding out we are full of desire, we are pending. Scared of being so careful I’ll write in orange, in earth brown, orange seems to be brown brown seems to be orange you look like me we are making mischief: hold onto me. A wind a rain are the details important, do you want them? So much time’s gone by, the record is endless and none of it recorded, who needs it? Something else begins, sure, I think I’m sure, I’m still drinking your bottle of wine but I can’t say that cause the language is mine and so I did, missing you. Miss, so I’ll be you, miss, I am not married but I don’t escape your notice, in fact, it was me who came to see you, a clear memory that we exchange notes on, we can change, I’m home, you don’t escape my house, a glance the eyes the hands, what a catch we’ve accomplished, what we’ve done you see and hear, his ear his hair what we perceive you are aware of, a mixing up and you know us by now by our perceptions, alike perceptions storing, perceive moving, perception motion that’s the order I speak of through you, I find it intricate, I find it hard, don’t overlook this, the words fight among themselves, don’t let it go by, there’s a finer point, a black translucent picture, black a power you are fine, no escape or avoiding, some forgetting yet to do in the middle of so much concrete, I’ll keep you, you are present at my birthday party, sections of it, this one, again the concrete one I am revealing you the conscious one still conscious now of a day of birth. Absence or loss, one by one. I’ve spent all my money and I don’t need some. I am tuned to your absence: there’s no one here, a lingering. I am not sure, not sure I want my watch back, the one that was stolen, I’ll let you know, we’ll play it by ear. Form of a human part is aware. Is here. There’s no telling you point to wanting, we haven’t missed at all not wide but designed to the mark, if any, if design is free, he is. I hit you, I meet you, I see you, we were both scared in such a bravery way, it’s summer and running open, what? Begin? I sleep I am asleep I had a baby, it’s close. I could go on forever this way but you in the confusion of yous for you I must make magic, I must stop and get out of the code beyond the secret code which would have worked it would have worked anyway but since I am you, now, a part of the fusing, the confusion of possible yous, I will milk, impose, I will come out of hiding, it’s time, I’ve already begun.

  I’m out, look around, it’s blue. That blue is me wanting to fade away to fade back into your body to fill you. That’s why it’s blue, a blue of not existing, a sudden blue, I hear the word boy, yes, that’s what I am, it’s surprising as blue is green, a certain day of the month, a certain year, recorded. It’s certain the wind blows unsteady, we are secure, you are my base, you are full. I milk you. I needed this time. I am not absent. I am knowing you, you have special feelings, special designs, maybe you are present here now just for an instant in the color I saw first like a light between my legs, a glance, the eyes, the hands. I try to grow. I try too hard to grow. Growing is instant. I see it instantly. You are coming, you’re feeling good, you’re thinking how easy it is, how hard, I’m too big, it feels good. I was careful, wasn’t I? I would’ve died for you, you warm. You want me. I’m lost where am I, I want to make you just to be sure. But you have bigger plans for me, you feed me. Later I will be your mother. I am sinking. You make me dizzy you make me well. What a blast of power I feel just for an instant, then you are gone, or is it: when you are gone, but it’s awful, a curse, how does the wind get in here, here that should be, here that ought to be sealed, how does it enter, can I do that, or is that me, is it me, I am sensitive the wind a knot of it has pushed me too hard I am hurt, pushed into you where I belong, I am keeping a secret, I am not speaking, I am hurting, I am stoned, I am a bubble, I am seen, so many winds, some of them in knots, such sinking motion, always sinking, in my mind, I am high, now that I’m sure you’re near, how sure can I be how near you are, you are excited, I can feel it, it’s not like the wind, do you know as much as me, when are you born, when are you coming, what a map for the streets of cities I could design. What I could show you,
meet me, I’ll show you my instinct to show you is still, a desire: you are mine and I know your insides I know you better than myself, I’ve survived it even though I would’ve died for love, given up easily, so you could go on, your presence reminds me, the wind that blows between us close, you made my love, first thing I feel and I am sinking again too soon I want you back. I have you. You emerge, vision, tones of brown in warm rounds, a sucking person, like me. The same sex the same motion perceive the kiss as my identity with you. I am on you. What a look you give me, in secret, what a tone, in silence, silence your mere presence stretches out like long form not quite golden light. I have a message for you: I am ugly, compared to you. I am not quite distorted in the center of your star, I am proud, you spring back, you are resilient, know me. You are brown, I am on you. The sun seems to take care of us, we’re warm. It’s rude.