tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79785985852019951902024-03-20T06:38:30.531-07:00New Leaves This ColorAutumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.comBlogger355125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-3506029602625142392018-05-31T03:58:00.001-07:002020-04-04T13:50:54.377-07:00The gnats hover the<br />
Coagulated<br />
Marsh.<br />
<br />
Is this the<br />
New Life<br />
You promised?<br />
<br />
<b id="docs-internal-guid-4a3abcec-7fff-8515-d93d-095b71b6a2d3" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-87118885121261326292018-05-31T03:55:00.004-07:002018-07-25T14:45:19.656-07:00I used to have<br />
"Makers hands"<br />
-b e a u t i f u l-<br />
And the veins in them<br />
Did not protrude.<br />
<br />
Now velvet cascades.<br />
Canals and crevices<br />
Reveal my age.<br />
<br />
They are tired.<br />
They are deficit.<br />
<br />
My hands<br />
Are without<br />
Stories.Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-90142160701028908192018-05-31T03:52:00.000-07:002018-07-25T14:47:11.467-07:00I wonder if god has spectacles<br />
That he<br />
Takes off<br />
While he naps.<br />
<br />
Because he's<br />
The grand<br />
Grandfather<br />
Clock.<br />
<br />
And when he wakes up<br />
We all need something.<br />
<br />
I pull at his pant leg.<br />
He does not answer.<br />
<br />
Sleeping father,<br />
Father's father,<br />
Grandfather.<br />
<br />
Don't forget me.Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-68273423896502509272018-05-31T03:49:00.001-07:002018-07-25T14:38:15.607-07:00Every day<br />
<div>
I wake<br />
To sleep<br />
<br />
Slowly. </div>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-2112739370174576662018-05-31T03:41:00.002-07:002018-07-25T14:42:29.814-07:00<div>
This year my dear friends moved to Canada. A match was struck in their eyes. They glisten now.<br />
It feels cold in this southern south.<br />
I am an orphan devoid of every internal summer. I pause at picture windows.<br />
Did we forget the lantern was out?<br />
Or was it<br />
A covert dimming<br />
Until the<br />
Pilot light died?<br />
<br />
It gets dark. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
O Canada. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-71088232996169400402017-08-02T12:03:00.000-07:002017-08-02T12:19:48.308-07:00Late Summer; Early AutumnI summon the trills of evening air;<br />
Absorb every magenta hue<br />
Of late summer.<br />
<br />
I am a book that keeps re-binding;<br />
Constantly stitching<br />
New details about<br />
Bold re-routes,<br />
And violent,<br />
Screen-splitting hope.<br />
<br />
<div>
<div>
It is now three autumns<br />
And six poetry compilations<br />
That separate me from the season<br />
For which my cells<br />
Row upstream-<br />
In tension.<br />
In dreams.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
I wish I had carved out my voice;<br />
Corked it in a sea-bound bottle,<br />
Before you came back from Spain<br />
And my projections eclipsed everything.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
I have never loved the substance of someone<br />
The way I loved the violent wake of you: </div>
<div>
Obstinate in the undertow,</div>
<div>
Electric in spirit,</div>
<div>
Unwavering in truth.</div>
<div>
<br />
Comrade. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I needle. I scratch. I spin. I repeat. </div>
<div>
I incline my ear to the moment I lost you.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
I stitch silk patches over my punctured lungs. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
August is gold in my ribcage. </div>
<div>
I inhale to the flickering hope </div>
<div>
Of what changing your mind might sound like. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I grieve tall houses; </div>
<div>
Paved neighborhoods; </div>
<div>
And how we have turned to dust</div>
<div>
Beneath the light of<br />
Too many full moons;<br />
<br />
How we have convoluted our<br />
Correspondences<br />
And re-written all of our truths.<br />
<br />
I grieve.<br />
And I forgive you.<br />
<br />
Emalyon,<br />
I do. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-3439504485915145092017-04-29T08:33:00.000-07:002017-04-29T08:38:13.843-07:00Not the Williamsburg Poet Weeded pain springs up<br />
From broken Brooklyn<br />
Ground.<br />
<br />
I could map that plant<br />
To Mars<br />
<br />
And<br />
Articulate how<br />
Equipped you are<br />
And how<br />
It will all be<br />
Okay.<br />
<br />
But you're not equipped.<br />
And it won't be okay.<br />
<br />
So,<br />
Passenger<br />
<br />
Let this gutter sprout<br />
Hope<br />
Be<br />
Enough.Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-27420338499127942642017-04-29T07:42:00.004-07:002017-08-02T12:20:43.753-07:00Turbulence I wish you'd died in the fire.<br />
So missing you would make sense<br />
And the turbulence of<br />
Hating you for<br />
Self-destructing<br />
Would<br />
Be rendered<br />
Silent.Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-81428544843775099442017-04-29T07:14:00.001-07:002017-04-29T08:23:47.140-07:00Epiphanies and Truths <div class="ds-list" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I equip you with </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Falsehoods</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To satisfy the wound. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then brace my back</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And argument for the</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Overdue</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rupture </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of my </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fake mind.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Your limbs are bound by</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My whim strings.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Your accordion argument</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Expands and contracts.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the private space </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of my bathroom</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I scream obscenities at you. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You are the displaced gravel</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of my fault</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fracture. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My brain is cracked;</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Split open like a </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Poached egg.</span><br />
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The tile wall</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Reciprocates. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The sound of my voice</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ricochets.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And this is the well </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of my deep knowing:</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That even if my teeth</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chiseled, bit, and chipped away at</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anything to </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Articulate</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You are still a ceramic</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Man, </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In a wet room,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With a portrait of myself</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Carved into the chest of you</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Reverberating nothing</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But the tambour </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of my raking loop,</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="gmail-ds-list" style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-left: 1cm; min-width: 200px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As I hurtle hate</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">About your stagnate</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">State</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And your relentless</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Regurgitation </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Skewed </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Epiphanies </span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Truths.</span> </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-75426506259607047782017-04-29T06:18:00.001-07:002017-04-29T08:26:57.914-07:00I Need, Too MuchTake the cap off of me.<br />
<br />
Fumble with<br />
Tortoise shell buttons<br />
1<br />
And<br />
2.<br />
<br />
I touch my barren<br />
Waste<br />
<br />
Land.<br />
<br />
This was so impromptu.<br />
<br />
And calculated.<br />
<br />
I have rehearsed you<br />
Ever since I knew<br />
How to take someone<br />
In the dark;<br />
<br />
Like on TV<br />
Or what I imagine<br />
Love would be.<br />
<br />
I will sigh to all the right<br />
Downbeats.<br />
You're the needle on my mind<br />
Your toenails<br />
Scratch<br />
Scratch<br />
Into me.<br />
<br />
I revolve and revolve and revolve<br />
Around the places you<br />
Touch me.<br />
In all the fine-line<br />
Crevices<br />
I bellow hollow<br />
Songs.<br />
<br />
Vaulted ceilings<br />
Amplify us into the night,<br />
To the curious heads of all the<br />
Neighbors who<br />
Assume<br />
Everything<br />
It wasn't.<br />
<br />
I pull you over me.<br />
<br />
A weighted blanket<br />
To smother myself<br />
With.<br />
<br />
It's not your fault.<br />
<br />
But you will<br />
Get<br />
<br />
All the blame.Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-29693354662907212192017-04-29T06:13:00.000-07:002017-04-29T06:13:13.498-07:00Unruly The tiny rubber hairs reach and retract<br />
For ground.<br />
August grasping pavement for July;<br />
Tiny children rowing backward-<br />
Eclipsed<br />
By the mist<br />
Of<br />
What's<br />
Missing.<br />
<br />
Hallowed soil chest.<br />
Hair kinking;<br />
Taut raisin mouth<br />
Binding<br />
Everything I cannot say.<br />
<br />
Summer at 26<br />
Is summer at 16<br />
Is summer at 12.<br />
<br />
Heat smothers<br />
Womb fruits.<br />
<br />
I go back to dust.<br />
<br />
I ride my bike<br />
So far down Grey Street--<br />
<br />
It's<br />
As if I<br />
Never was. Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-72670484757772437222016-12-27T08:37:00.001-08:002017-01-09T19:38:03.490-08:00<div dir="ltr">
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 24px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">H O L D O N. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-cd08bbcb-4125-19bd-a201-e5b3f1479d81" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is agony in the crawlspace of my God construct. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The fractured ribs of this tiny house are splintering.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather";"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">And all my rooms are punctured lungs. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather";"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Expanding too shallow.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather";"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Collapsing too deep. </span></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm gonna hold my breath till I pass out.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'll destroy my body while I wait you out. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Break all my bones and teeth. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Holy one, shake me awake.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Force your life into these lungs. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">hate</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> you. God. You </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">forsake </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ME God.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We're all suffering ashes and you abandon us, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">God-</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To this still cellar with cellophane wrapped mouths.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I writhe to recoil my childlike faith.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But you're too real to be undone. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So hold me close till I pass out. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Smother me in your chest till I pass out.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rock me to sleep till I pass out. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hate you, God.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hate you, God.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm sorry.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 24px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I H E A R H O P E</span></div>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-91296238770775732952016-11-24T16:41:00.002-08:002016-12-03T07:43:31.849-08:00I. Heat rises and stews along my hairline beneath my golden cap. I skim cement squares like pages of a book-each chapter intentional. The earth around me is amber and bright against a crystalline sky...my autumnal snow globe. <br />
My shins strain beneath the grey canvas slacks that thickly cover my frame and bell widely below my knee. "Elephant bells," she called them. Her face is clear to me. She holds several needles between her pursed lips as she hand-finishes her product.<br />
I stoop to examine my calves and feet. As I massage them for comfort, I notice shiny silver strands along my hemline beginning to fray. The pain comes. I inhale slowly. November chills the warm spaces of my nose, esophagus, and belly.<br />
<i> She is not here. I am going to have to fix this. </i><br />
<i> </i>I stand in stillness beneath the weighty truth of death. I consider returning home, sliding out of my slacks, putting them into a drawer for safe keeping, and never considering them again. I have hidden the majority of my grandmother's trinkets. Nostalgia is an all-consuming sinkhole. I avoid the deep missing despite its intentionality with me. "The Deep" tends to invade during my most vulnerable hours. No matter the season, it contrasts itself against the stark winter of my mind. In the fashion of a true undertaker it ushers me into everything I cannot tolerate and do not want to accept. During these tours of myself everything liquifies. My breast-stroking brain wades in bottomless waters of questions my mouth has never had the courage to choke up.<br />
I am a woman composed of only extravagant and barren rooms. Strangely, I am far more willing to investigate the sad rooms of myself than the happy ones. I fear adulthood coupled with dread will disenchant the favored scenes of my past. I cannot afford to take a sledgehammer to the glorious design of my childhood hope.<br />
In the midst of my contemplation, I study our hands. We <strike>were</strike> <b>are</b> identical.<br />
<br />
<i> She gave up. </i><br />
<i> I won't. </i><br />
<br />
Despite the appeal of drowning in a mattress until spring, I lock eyes with Main Street and keep inching forward. What is the alternative? Become a dead rock gathering moss beneath borrowed sheets, the last patchwork quilt of her hands, and my heavy duvet? The Tennessee winter is not yet frigid enough to justify this depth of burrowing.<br />
<br />
<i>I will wait to properly grieve until December. </i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> ---</i></div>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-71035138099397148632016-11-22T18:54:00.000-08:002016-12-27T09:19:59.989-08:00Mother I design a paper mother.<br />
I craft her paper clothes;<br />
Stitch the thread-work of her destiny<br />
Into the silver walls.<br />
<br />
The bells around her lining<br />
Ring similar and stark.<br />
She is pinned along my mantle;<br />
She illuminates my hearth.<br />
<br />
She is amethyst and sequins,<br />
Velvet envelopes her hands<br />
Her throat is sage and lavender,<br />
Her hair is aubergine and sand.<br />
<br />
Her mouth is made of roses<br />
Blooming words as smooth as pearls.<br />
They shape multi-dimensional secrets<br />
About her paper world.<br />
<br />
I wish I could condense my corners<br />
To crepe paper, linen, and glue.<br />
Then I would seal my paper self <br />
And transcend my atmosphere too.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-20455757142690805982016-11-12T14:15:00.002-08:002016-12-27T07:08:16.250-08:00Last night<br />
I was an emerald woman<br />
In glistening<br />
Aubergine tights.<br />
<br />
And my head was<br />
A spinning disco ball<br />
Reflecting mango<br />
Fragments of light.<br />
<br />
<br />
#ohdaughterohdaughterohdaughter<br />
<br />
And it didn't matter that I was there alone.<br />
And they were there too.<br />
I wasn't w i t h o u t.<br />
<br />
It's a gorgeous thing-<br />
To be so transparent<br />
People see<br />
R i g h t t h r o u g h<br />
You.<br />
<br />
I get the benefit of not being there at all.<br />
I'm a fly on the wall,<br />
And it's better to see<br />
From the outside<br />
The life I forfeit<br />
That always made me feel<br />
<br />
Like I wasn't<br />
<br />
E N O U G H.Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-76814608237945814772016-11-01T18:47:00.001-07:002016-12-03T08:06:26.319-08:00If I don't wring out my spine<br />
I will die here-<br />
A flickering ember.<br />
<br />
Just like all the<br />
"Once Were,"<br />
On the stoops of their<br />
Silted up<br />
Streams.<br />
<br />
Who could they have been?<br />
Mouths pretty and primed<br />
With ticking speeches, keeping<br />
Time<br />
Like a<br />
Metronome.<br />
<br />
We were intoxicating.<br />
Now we're composed of dotted lines.<br />
We are bound limbs in dismal grays,<br />
Cubicle wires and static fraying.<br />
<br />
Our lives were stories<br />
With romantic chapters<br />
About our<br />
Pink lips,<br />
Soft curls,<br />
Wide eyes,<br />
And holy hopes.<br />
<br />
We used to believe in something.<br />
<br />
And Christ sprawled before us<br />
Like a supper and was crucified<br />
And we ate of his body and<br />
Our lips were stained with wine.<br />
<br />
But we couldn't keep our promises.<br />
<br />
So we ground our trees<br />
And bound our mistakes.<br />
We stitched our fingers and feet and whereabouts into<br />
The vertebra of<br />
Time.<br />
<br />
<br />
And if I don't wring out my spine...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-67933206260161591412016-10-29T13:22:00.001-07:002016-11-01T19:03:23.056-07:00<div dir="ltr">
I love the confusing, numb state of you</div>
<div dir="ltr">
Standing in the doorway, embodying all the things</div>
<div dir="ltr">
I cannot substitute or chase. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
I hold you and there is no man there at all. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
Just someone else's memory of what you were.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
I beat my hollow chest with fists and all the anguish about you. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
And her. </div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-6382838413414459122016-10-23T16:08:00.001-07:002016-11-01T19:05:10.372-07:00<br />
The Holy Spirit was talking to me the other<br />
Day about dreams.<br />
He gave me this moon dog,<br />
With a amarillo dogtag shaped like a house.<br />
<br />
Her name is Luna.<br />
She is composed of charcoal and sand.<br />
Her fur smells like pepper.<br />
I painted her once.<br />
<br />
All my earthly dreams are going to collapse at my feet.<br />
Their flesh will become dust.<br />
<br />
And I cannot see. <br />
<br />
The more I believe I am found I am lost.<br />
I have confused the smoke with dusk.<br />
My spine does not sleep.<br />
<br />
I do not want what I think I need.<br />
And even when I am wise I am foolish.<br />
<br />
Everything in this fast, long humanity falls short,<br />
Perfect only because it is transfixed in one fragile hour.<br />
<br />
I strive to<br />
Stop the striving long enough<br />
To enjoy<br />
<br />
The last of it,<br />
<br />
Knowing nothing and everything is coming...<br />
Day after day<br />
In the monotony of<br />
This dying chiming as steady as a clocktower,<br />
Calling through the night,<br />
<br />
Anchoring in the wake of morning,<br />
Dragging its feet...<br />
Holding onto what it can no longer see<br />
And hardly picture.<br />
<br />
I drag my feet too.<br />
Because I am not ready to live and die yet.<br />
I just want to be small<br />
Like I know how to be.<br />
<br />
Because<br />
I'm not<br />
Ready.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
I sit down to write<br />
And something resembling<br />
Myself sprawls forth onto the page.<br />
<br />
I am satisfied because it has been so long<br />
Since I have said anything or<br />
Done anything<br />
Worthwhile.<br />
<br />
Every day I wake up,<br />
Collect my gear,<br />
And attempt to scale the same mountain.<br />
<br />
About half-way up the illusion shatters<br />
And I realize my striving was all in vain.<br />
<br />
I strive for everything at the top.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
There is nothing at the top.<br />
<br />
I strive for the nothingness at the top.<br />
<br />
I need nothingness more than I need the top.<br />
<br />
Nothing remedies my need for nothingness<br />
And<br />
Nothing would remedy my need for everything.<br />
But I can't stop stirring.<br />
And I waste the days.<br />
Because<br />
All is<br />
Vanity.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-17933293680050730882016-09-20T18:58:00.003-07:002016-09-30T10:13:17.862-07:00Cough I am awake beneath my heavy duvet.<br />
It is dark all around me.<br />
7:30 p.m.<br />
A new kind of cellophane.<br />
The depression is thick. I speak into the curtain of it. Existence dissipates; dissolves before my belly rises again, retaliates against the heaviness. I breathe a hesitant trust into the silence. We have built some rapport.<br />
They don't know.<br />
They always know.<br />
It is safe to assume at this point.<br />
Sometimes I feel my writer dying inside me. She writhes and struggles through the sleep paralysis. Her will to live quakes. She is a rattling colic ricochetting beneath the trapdoor of my innocence. She is buried alive. She is scraping out. She cracks my ribcage trying to come above. I wonder if Christ breathes into her like the valley of dry bones while I dream haunting things. <br />
<br />
Sometimes it is the good dreams that stain the most.<br />
<br />
When I sleep my grandmother is still alive. Her smell permeates me as I bury my nose into her moist, lotioned check. Her gold jewelry glistens in the warm light of a holiday. I am not sure which holiday. I just know it is one because she is breathing. I study the bumps on the outsides of her pinkies where her sixth and eleventh finger once was. I consider that she might have been an even better seamstress had she kept them. She takes the champagne colored bottle of Halston from her mahogany dresser and sprays it. I study the particles of fragrance cascading from the high places through beams of light. We are showered in something timeless. Something potent. Something real.<br />
We are magnificent.<br />
She in her cells.<br />
I in mine.<br />
When I use my grandmother's perfume I feel a certain invincibility.<br />
It is like I am carrying a legacy; bold femininity,<br />
The kind of femininity that my grandfather loved.<br />
The kind of femininity my generation has abandoned.<br />
I am lonely in this.<br />
But she is there, stitching together my belly and my insides the way she always has. I am the work of her hands in the good dreams.<br />
But the bad dreams come too.<br />
The church tells me it is not wise to curse myself in fear, or in wonder of the demons that lurk and haunt in the night. "Don't speak them into existence," they say. Maybe they are all just figments of my imagination. Alzheimers, diabetes, hypochondria, bipolar disorder, cervical cancer-all creaking doors and cooing creatures mourning in my bloodstream.<br />
I just hope if the forgetting comes, I will have someone in my life to rattle me back to the reality I created with them. I hope I make great love to someone somewhere, someday. I hope for a family. I ache for gardens sown; that something is birthed in my wake, some strung symphony that scatters and collects like pearls on a string that clasp delicately together at the end.<br />
<br />
I reconcile with the vapor I know I am.<br />
<br />
Every day I acknowledge that I am staring down the barrel of a gun. We are exchanging each breath for something. I just want all my breaths and my somethings to be worthwhile. I try to collect the day in my chest. My unwillingness to exhale is killing me. I am made up of bold stinginess.<br />
Is there anyone out there still alive? Anyone not completely consumed by the chase? Anyone not driven solely by the hunger of their own flesh? Is there anyone of substance, dignity, poetry or music wandering too?<br />
I just want to sit with you through it. We can say everything or nothing and just let the gravity of silence consume us.<br />
It is agonizing to be alive in a world that completely takes life for granted. To die and to be aware of it is better than the autopilot everyone seems to be steeping themselves in. I wish the fibers of technology would fray. I wish we could be left with flickering candles and a warm light diffusing itself into all of our scared and vacant rooms. Then the shrill echoes of our realities would remind us we are eternal spirits in temporal wombs-<br />
<br />
That we are purposed to create, to give birth to something far greater than ourselves.<br />
<br />
Heaven is here and it's coughing itself up<br />
From tattered lungs,<br />
Aching to sprawl forth.<br />
If I had a rope I'd hoist it up out of me<br />
Until the bones and teeth of it came into fruition.<br />
<br />
I am dying to come awake.<br />
I am dying to come awake.<br />
I am dying to come awake.Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-86103835699511311412016-08-29T22:01:00.002-07:002016-09-30T10:23:41.783-07:00Stilts My grandfather died last month.<br />
<br />
He will not see me turn twenty-six on the nineteenth.<br />
He will not conduct my wedding ceremony.<br />
He will not meet my children.<br />
<br />
The night after I spoke at his funeral I considered calling Imogine. I felt she was the only one who would have something worthwhile to say. Though we hadn't spoken since January, I scrolled through the electronic rolodex of my phone desperately aching for solace; hoping I still had her number.<br />
<i>Ding! </i>A Snapchat update interrupted my search.<br />
Call it fate, God, tragedy, or...a shitty hand, but <i>it was what it was</i>.<br />
My device informed me that Imogine was playing a house show back in Nashville to which I had not been invited.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>It's okay. I couldn't have made it anyway. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Against my better judgement I kept observing. Same story. Different perspective.<br />
<br />
<i>Who needed to attend? I had it all on video anyway!</i><br />
<br />
After absorbing what I was seeing I became physically ill.<br />
The ambiance of the house surrounding Imogine struck a deep and haunting chord. It was too grotesquely familiar. Brackish water memories.<br />
<br />
<i> No. Not <u>his</u> house!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
"Take it back!" I groaned aloud.<br />
I pulled my knees into my chest. <br />
I held myself. <br /><br />
I listened to the clips<br />
As the sound of Imogine's guitar<br />
Hovered over the crowd,<br />
Rang through the still, hollow vacancies<br />
Where I once scrambled to collect my dignity<br />
Beneath the oppressive weight<br />
Of a sad boy<br />
Who so desperately tried<br />
To strip me of it.<br />
<br />
I studied the rug beneath her<br />
And remembered the way<br />
It felt<br />
Between<br />
My toes<br />
The night<br />
He peeled<br />
Off my clothes<br />
<br />
Then told me to <b>get lost</b>.<br />
To leave...<br />
That it had all been<br />
<br />
<b>A mistake</b>.<br />
<br />
Imogine was the first and only person I talked to about it.<br />
Because Imogine was in Spain.<br />
Imogine was awake after my long drive home.<br />
Imogine was the only person who was ever awake.<br />
<br />
I tried to come up with a million excuses for her. I wanted to make it my fault. Nothing was potent enough to pierce the anguish. I allowed my body to steep in the endless portion of pain my once best friend had heaped upon me.<br />
<br />
And I was grieved.<br />
And I am grieved. <br />
<br />
If it was deliberate,<br />
It was felt.<br />
If it was not deliberate,<br />
It was careless.<br />
I am still not sure which hurts worse.<br />
<br />
I spent the rest of my night as a human pretzel in a vain attempt to hold my grandparents by death-gripping my Poppy's leather journal and my Nana's rugged bible.<br />
<br />
I opened my clenched fist like a child and let the last shred of my innocence evaporate into the inky night until sleep overcame me and ushered me into the next hollow morning.<br />
Every morning has been hollow since.<br />
<br />
<i>I forgive you, I guess. But mainly because I can't contain the pain of it. And it seems there is nothing else I can do but forgive you because everything else just hurts. I wish I could forget you, too. </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
The hurt pulsates like a toothache. Praying hands don't heal it.<br />
I don't go to church anymore. Everything there feels unsatisfying-like I'm being fed regurgitated food twice chewed for me. I love the Lord too much to eat it. I love myself too much to eat it.<br />
I just want something new.<br />
<br />
I have this hope that once I turn twenty-six I can start over and just forget the past twenty-five years ever existed. "Take off the old man, put on the new man..." something like that.<br />
<br />
Then maybe the emptiness won't swallow me whole.<br />
And the bigness of Christ will strap stilts to my legs and make me grow<br />
Tall, tall, tall.<br />
<br />
And when I'm tall, maybe it won't hurt anymore because I will be invincible.<br />
And far past the horizon I will see the end.<br />
<br />
And Jesus will be there.<br />
And the striving will cease.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-26076122460450564032016-08-28T10:40:00.002-07:002016-09-20T19:29:44.949-07:00Midnight Talks with a Once-Murderer Last night I sat with my new friend Jacob beneath the twinkling string-lights on the porch of Cafe Coco. Having previously conversed with him about life and spirituality, I started curiously prodding him for conclusions he had come to about the universe since reclaiming the faith. I use the word "reclaiming" in place of the word "renouncing," because I do not feel this is appropriate for his journey. But I was interested in the deconstruction of his once-baptist belief system and how it translates into his views on everything from polyamory to the connection of the human race.<br />
In short, Jacob believes we are all united. I used to hate when I found something to be true that did not clearly fit into my theology. But my goal is to get to the place where I don't internally flinch when someone has a different perspective than I have heard regurgitated in the church. In this case, I do not disagree. We are all made in the image of God. All from the earth. And it's true. The earth <i>does</i> unify us.<br />
I am currently reading Rob Bell's "Sex God: Exploring the Endless Connections Between Sexuality and Spirituality". Bell defines sexuality as our deep need for human connection. I find when the Lord is trying to teach me something new he reiterates it through a series of experiences. Last night was no exception.<br />
As Jacob paused in his speech a shirtless man appeared out of nowhere.<br />
It is not abnormal for the slumping stoop of Cafe Coco to attract many of our homeless friends. One in particular I have connected with goes by Badger. That <i>is</i> his real name. I say this because I truly believe he has forgotten his birth name. Badger travels the country collecting roadkill and making art out of it. Sometimes we exchange mediums. Recently, he gave me feathers to add into an abstract piece I am working on. We share art and stories. We are in the business of bringing the dead to life.<br />
<br />
Enter Jonathan William Dickson.<br />
<br />
If you're wondering if he is a tweaker, the answer is no. He is simply a sad man who chooses to tweak more often than the average bear. We made eye contact. He came and pulled up a chair across from me.<br />
Jacob looked hesitant. Because he was on the clock, he offered the man a cup of water. I could discern his underlying intention was to alert management. Others around looked concerned. There was a collective energy deciding this man <i>needed</i> to be escorted off the property. I could feel it on my skin and in my hair.<br />
But something happened after Jacob got up to find an escort.<br />
The man looked up at me, and said,<br />
"I am sorry if I've offended you. I am just lonely."<br />
Immediately, I felt a supernatural peace fall on me and I said,<br />
"Sir. You have not offended me in the least. I understand. I am lonely too. I think we all are."<br />
He paused for a moment and started to cry.<br />
"I just can't stop punishing myself!" He groaned.<br />
"What did you do?" I asked.<br />
With complete ownership, he did not hesitate.<br />
"I killed someone. I am a murderer."<br />
I did not flinch. I felt the Lord asking me to press in.<br />
"How old were you when you killed someone?"<br />
"I killed someone as a drunk driver twenty-five years ago. I've gone to prison. I've done a lot of things. But I just can't forgive myself. And I am very lonely."<br />
Suddenly, our conversation was interrupted by management who came outside with a group of cooks and a baseball bat.<br />
"YOU!"<br />
They yelled.<br />
"Get up! Get the hell out of here. You can't be here without a shirt on!"<br />
I calmly looked at him and continued our conversation with authority in my voice as they approached.<br />
"Hold on. We're talking," I said.<br />
"Sir, what is your name?" I asked.<br />
"Jonathan William Dickson."<br />
The tone in his voice shifted like a small child being asked about their name and age. There was a sense of innocence, a sense of identity, a sense of pride. And I wondered how long it had been since this man had been asked who he was. He responded as if he was being invited into the warm, cozy, house of himself. Like he was coming home. In that moment he wasn't shelterless. In that moment, he wasn't an orphan.<br />
As management began to pull at him and urge him out of his seat with the bat, I reached for his hand. This was his moment of dignity despite a world around him that was trying to strip him of it.<br />
"Jonathan William Dickson. My name is Autumn Jade. It was a pleasure to meet you. Please forgive yourself. I am twenty-five years old. You have grieved every day that I have been alive. Release yourself. Forgive yourself. Have peace my friend."<br />
Management pulled back, feeling awkward and uncertain in their decision to force him out.<br />
In hindsight, I wish I had said something further, urged them not to take my friend. If being shirtless was their reasoning, I wish I had taken off my extra flannel and just given it to him. I am ashamed of my cowardice in the moment. However, there was a certain feeling of closure that sealed our time. I felt him sink away inside his head again. In a flash he was lost in his own eyes as quickly as he had appeared.<br />
I still believe our encounter was not coincidence.<br />
Human connection.<br />
Last night Jonathan William Dickson was an interesting puzzle piece in my existence. Today, I take my sabbath in rest praying for him. And praying for myself. I needed him just as much as he needed me to fuel the journey.<br />
So, we forgive ourselves.<br />
We forgive each other.<br />
We strive for connection.<br />
We keep moving.Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-48835700034824165922016-08-25T05:32:00.003-07:002016-08-25T05:32:24.379-07:00<p dir="ltr">Earth is the hardest pill of all.<br>
</p>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-89873398928077481242016-08-25T05:32:00.001-07:002016-08-25T05:32:03.911-07:00<p dir="ltr">My chest has stopped expanding. You're the source. I feel it yearning now from the belly up. New York, I need your autumnal air. Nashville is <u>and</u> isn't enough.<br></p>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-71422953374286630452016-08-23T20:59:00.002-07:002016-08-27T11:08:26.540-07:00The depression is so thick I cannot see the end of it.<br />
<div>
<br />
<div>
I stare off and my mind makes shapes </div>
<div>
Out of </div>
<div>
Tricks of light</div>
<div>
On my bedroom wall.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And this to me is everything.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is the fallacy of the world </div>
<div>
And how </div>
<div>
Relationships are like trading</div>
<div>
Transparencies atop a flickering projector.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They hold promise until a bulb burns out, </div>
<div>
Or until everyone in the room admits they</div>
<div>
Aren't really learning anything.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Am I getting what I paid for?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I went to a show last night</div>
<div>
And fumbled my feet around</div>
<div>
To try to make it better. </div>
<div>
I thought seeing droves of people I hate</div>
<div>
Would shovel the memory of the wake</div>
<div>
Of my grandfather out of my chest</div>
<div>
Like a coffee scoop. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I imagine my compartmentalized hurt as little granules. </div>
<div>
I hated every one of them and heard every word they've forgotten </div>
<div>
They've said </div>
<div>
At some point, </div>
<div>
Somewhere,</div>
<div>
Back there...</div>
<div>
That's punctured me.<br />
<br />
Call it spiritual abuse,<br />
Or the spinal column in my back<br />
That never fused together. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And anger pinged in my tiny brain like a school bell. </div>
<div>
I walked home with anvils around my ankles. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It doesn't take Jesus telling me I'm divisive </div>
<div>
To make me want to cut my tongue out.</div>
<div>
Heres, my throat too. </div>
<div>
Take my voice box, God. </div>
<div>
And all my fingers. </div>
<div>
I cannot steward this portion. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am still somewhere back in middle school</div>
<div>
Starving to death for</div>
<div>
Affirmation from adults big enough</div>
<div>
To make me feel small. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And I feel small</div>
<div>
Enough to sneak out the back door</div>
<div>
While my old friends are singing songs about how good you are. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, I do. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7978598585201995190.post-4099437721715847642016-08-23T20:43:00.002-07:002016-08-23T20:44:28.979-07:00I have pain and anxiety so<br />
Deep<br />
Tonight<br />
The roots of it<br />
Are shooting out of my feet<br />
And holding down my sails<br />
As they clutch the ground<br />
And devour<br />
The dull earth.<br />
<br />
I am adrenaline and tubes.<br />
I wish I was made of iron<br />
Or meant something<br />
To you<br />
So I could trick myself.<br />
<br />
I put on the cape.<br />
I take off the cape.<br />
I know the truth.<br />
<br />
I have nothing<br />
I believe in<br />
Anymore.<br />
<br />
I have nothing to sell you.Autumn Jade Monroehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13039679822980097214noreply@blogger.com0