The strong desire to run through the night

My very pure heart opening...

It was my first use of patience
In a poem             I described a big ancient tree
Everyone loved it.

It was very uncontroversial to write about

This tree                 it was a symbol

Of universal beauty about which
I had a small amount to say not much that hadn’t been said

Already the people gathered
In large numbers there

It was a period of spiritual belief.

There was a dream person in the atmosphere

I was cold but well-lit by a series of candles

Ambiance being the “original” politics             said someone
Not close to me
But nearby

It’s hard to write in bed where
I don’t have to be awake

I like to force waking
The writing would follow

The mild sounds out the window

My ears opened
Which opened my eyes

I could hear everything and see what I needed to
Lately             which was much
It came up from the street     the children making
Sounds there

It was this year I was intended to arrive in my spiritual power
It was the right year for making big decisions about money
And love

Of money I was paid an almost normal amount and of love
I didn’t bother
I couldn’t

I would never disturb anyone
From their sleep

Drugs were boring
The internet was boring
There was no such thing as “phantasmagoria” tonight
The world was very still
Images were very still

I lived on a simple planet.

Talking was common
Among the neighbors downstairs
There was a lot to speak about

A fire alarm sounding like a baby crying
The smell of the profound sewer
The smell of crispy fish for sandwiches...

I’m sorry.

It wasn’t my intention to write a stupid poem
It was my intention to love you until you died

And when you died

And if I could bring someone

Of course I would go

Before everything
The tree had appealed to me too       

It was a tree of very few words                an accusation
I’d fielded in this life       
Living quietly
Writing madly
My letters in your absence and always
Against your will

My will would be simple
As the planet was

I enjoyed power and long walks in the dark

Is it okay that I’m not listening
To your ideas anymore?

I wasn’t bored of them
Just of you

The vague smell of marijuana
The present fear of diseases             of meningitis,
Of anything that threatened to take away my brain

Isabel in the doorway with a thermometer and bread
She wasn’t my crutch
She was my friend

I was against death and recently                                     suicide
I wanted to sneak up behind you but I wouldn’t
I would never scare you

It pains me
That I don’t believe in heaven

Please help me

A baby on the table over your chocolate croissant
Say it in the French way, chocolate
‘Croissant’

Pine needles in shiny mats on the rational floor       

Irrationally they were puddles of sun looking then like the bay
So hard to see the bright middle of the day
The common color of fingernails
A hug at the length of all eternity

I wanted to leave early.
I wanted to go elsewhere               where your house lived
I imagined it in winter getting
Adequately disguised...

I hate that I don’t know
What anything means

As I have hated euphemisms               finery
Implying nothing
That excess couldn’t say
       
I’m sorry
I wasn’t looking at you
I was looking at that baby with no teeth and not one cavity

A baby free

From the dentist’s regime...

It’s true

You wanted to see my wrath
So I showed you

It took some time
But I did it

It didn’t feel good        
And if I could take Martha with me

And if I could have
Just one enemy   

If I could convince them of this principle

The philosophy of eternal love

And if I could stop myself

And if I could   

I’d dream of Sarah           getting on one train
Myself on another train           too

She lived with everyone       
In the dream
I loved her extremely

And appreciated her lovely house her two
Perfect cats

I was very affectionate             for the right person
The wrong person I’d replace               with a cat

In California I’d felt very calm                   I was familiar
With certain popular trees

I was familiar with my sister in the face
She was my twin.

I had pants made of cotton we slept in            adjacent beds
I missed her I missed
My comfortable pants

There’s Hannah in our shared scarf
Grey being a sad but beautiful color when adequately understood

Like I was     eternally
Very well understood

By everyone who saw me and liked me well enough I wondered
Only a little bit
About my double heart    

What wasn’t a problem             and if I could
And if I kept going
And if I had to stop

Born in California, Scout Turkel is a poet and writer. Scout's first book, Solitude and Society, is forthcoming from Nightboat Books.