letters to mrs. downing

1.

my dear mrs. downing,

I don’t know why I’m writing this to tell you who I am, for I do not think you really exist.
But I write because I like to think you do, I like the think that you sit in your garden drinking tea with milk and honey. Staring at the flowers as if they long to keep you company and speaking softly to the trees (who always think you funny). Your cat, well I’ll call her Rose and she’s soft and black and sweet. I bet you don’t suppose- well I’ll write of that come tomorrow.

Sincerely,


2.

my dear mrs. downing,

Do you take it as an insult that I don’t capitalize your name? What from it do you have to gain anyway? There is nothing in a name, that is why I do not talk of my own. We shall not discuss it, unless of course you just must know. Neverless, capitalized or not, my respect is yours until I die mrs. downing. Don’t think me rude for not showing to tea, but I was much to nervous for that.

Instead I hid behind the tallest tree and made faces at your cat.

Sincerely,


3.

my dear mrs. downing,

I should have named you Austen, but downing seemed more gentle. the only Austen I know is Jane, and well I do not really know her. Nor would I ever, she and I would agree that we would not agree. She is such a bold looking woman though, or no. She is such a sad looking woman!

Dear mrs. downing would you care to join me for dinner to-night? You can tuck a response anywhere you like along your front fence, I’ll pick it up shortly. I do not wish you to see my in this dim light, my shadow is frightful shameful.

Sincerely,


4.

my dear mrs. downing,

Last night I dreamed of dreams. They were horribly, well dark. When I woke up I found myself looking around for you; I forget you live down the way and not with me. No need to answer this,

it is strictly a means to security.

Sincerely,

5.

my dear mrs. downing,

Hello again! Did you see me yesterday, I was off meeting Jane. Jane Goodall, I’m sure you’ve heard of her work with the chim-pan-zes. It amazes me how close the jungles of Africa are! mrs. downing, surely you never thought that they lie behind your garden wall! There were amazement's of all sorts.

Don’t venture in alone, call me first. The jungles are known for their danger.

Sincerely,

color chart

the doctor told me i only had four more days to live
if i did not color my world by tomorrow afternoon.

he told me, girl you need some color
to lighten your step and make the sorrows fly.

i said i’ve never heard of that. he said you
wouldn’t. i told him i couldn’t and so he shooed
me off with a color chart.

were the apples really red? I could tell,
I didn’t look. they were too loud. damn
chart.

but he told me, girl you need some color
to soften your taste and hasten your thoughts.

i said thoughts!
see i all ready got those doc.

i said i’ve never heard of that. he said you wouldn’t.
i told him i couldn’t and so he shooed
me off with a color chart.

b is for bananas. b is for
brooklynn, b is beautifully green.
so b will be a tree, ack! but it’s much
to much. i’ve never seen leaves

look so serene. black is more chaos,
more my style, so you see doctorman,
why i haven’t been here in a while.

but he told me, girl you need some color.
it’ll make your hair bigger- don’t need it.
it’ll make your skull thicker- ha. don’t believe it.

doctorman, doctorman,
i’m done with your colors man.

doctorman, doctorman, we are
finished finished finished.
i buried your color chart. he said,

what are we to do with your colorless heart.

days

[scene]: vending machines, ten till ten.

the machine eats my quarter, jo asks freshman for a quarter. freshman hands her water, thinking that what she wanted. i curse, we run to hills. mallory provides quarter, coke is obtained. (pan out) jo ramming against the vending machine while i slowly close the door because she's cursing at the top of her lungs. good thing facade is not glass. no one likes blood on candy.

[scene]: united states history ap, i forget the day

(zoom in on mr. oder) he's talking about the people in new Orleans using the government provided credit cards for lap dances and such. (cut to visiting parents in the back) unfazed. (pan out) everyone just keeps writing, in my mind i wish i had sneezed over that part.

[scene]: english language ap, a few weeks ago

(cut to dl) speaking with passion "like when your writing to a lover."

(pan out) class silent. i'm amazed at the ability for juniors to be so immature.

(cut to dl) "i shouldn't have said lover..."

---------------------------------------------------

yes calvin, the days are just packed.

{fin}

the musician and his writer

*the musician and his writer*

what is it that's different today.
tell me what is out of place-
is it my face?
well there must be something in it
if i am still in your good grace.

you spent the morning settling affairs,
(i spent mine dreaming of a french soldier adorned with a Croix de guerre)
and then you played your saxophone.
smooth as the morning itself,
and i raised my coffee to your good health.

when he plays it makes the angels shout out loud;
they bring us linings from their clouds.
and since angels are partial to dark liquor,
i pour it in a bowl and watch them drink.

the ribbon of the typewriter whines
while i pound pound pound-
i am pounding the worries out.

i can say so much without a single sound-
come with me. let's explore downtown.bring
your saxophone. i'll wear your hat and you
wear my scarf. we can make our way
around the park with my arm through yours
and i'll scatter our pages on the ground.

my sins?

or yours.

le maitresse en titre.

Francois I seems to teach me a new thing everytime I read about him.

le maitresse en titre: the main mistress.

80 minutes from midnight.

80 minutes till midnight.

this is the part where I'm supposed to do something like, "will i make it?"

but there's no question. i'll make it. my body doesn't begin to slow down until after midnight. and if i'm doing something i won't break down till about four. two on a bad day. the way i calculated things i write about five pages an hour and if i stayed up for 48 hours i could probably finish or almost finish the book i'm trying to write. but i think i would tire of the story part way through the first 24.

78 minutes till midnight.

fine rhymes

1.
when you left me
hallowed and empty in bed
took the breath from me,
left me pacing around the house
we built and then-

when you left me by the mailbox
waiting for your letter-
when even the mailman knew better
and didn’t hope, but i knew.
and when you left me that morning
and when you left me in shambles.

ridiculous.

2.
last night you spoke of being gone
before the end of spring
and i thought, how will i get along
without you among, other things.

perhaps it was my silence that
threw you. i didn’t speak
because i knew i couldn’t be
in compliance that something
that kept you and i apart.

and though this expression is more
than just an, an art
i keep saying this in the only way i know how,
if you must take it as an artist plea.
to you, from me.

3.
yet, after you are gone
you will know me and somehow
you will recognize the what used
to lie inside my eyes
those smooth lines you used to touch,
the lines that made my face.
4.
you’ll recognize my flinch at your embrace-

you spoke of being gone
my southern boy child while
the music from our record
played that song, our song,

but you will be gone by
the end of spring.

so what am i to do without you
among, other things.

5.
you’ll wonder how it
would be different had
july spread it’s wings.

how it would have changed
your heart to sit with me
and sing the song we sing.
had our adventure
become another summer fling

i see you and i separated
by one last goodbye. don’t you
know what you’ve done! what
you will do-
won’t you wonder

what i could have been for you?

6.
and i hope these are the
questions you ask, dear.
i hope these are the
things you fear, love.
perhaps, my tears
we what you had not thought of.
i hope.
never less; it’s probably better i don’t.