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You came back in the fall
and I told you you could go —
already almost gone
like the deer I came upon one day,
slow breathing beside me
before it leaped. You stayed
and stayed and now the air
is crisp with lack of you.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 8 4
Clear days I can see Catalina
first hill from my house. Once
they played Rocket Man
as I hit the top, specks of oilrigs
in the ocean.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 1 0
The factories have taken the sugar cane
to themselves. In Hawaii, fields blow gold
beneath spreading blue-black thundercloud.
The grapefruit go away in cans.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 8 4
Ashley and I in Alaska
We’ll work in Alaska this summer
and in my mind we drive through cold wet wastelands
in the night, playing Physical Graffiti. Some nights
we stop at lost motels in Canada
and when we get there, I’m wearing flannels
and I’m tan. We wash dishes all day,
we swim in the lake beneath cold mountains,
the camping American families cook food
from red coolers. Her silence never reaches me.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 1 0
White Center, 1957, Mark Rothko
A woman told me once,
On weekends I drive into LA,
brave all the traffic, pay the fifteen
dollar parking, sit in front of Rothko
all afternoon.  After that I assume
she drinks slow-brewed hazelnut lattes,
listens to concertos in the Biltmore,
skydives off the Bank Tower.  
I tried to sit in front of it, tried
to see it.  The first time I saw it,
I was fifteen; I was with a brilliant woman
who studied philosophy and killed herself
at Princeton, and she said, Look,
it bleeds. He meant it to express great joy.
I could never see it after that.
I tried driving into LA, tried paying
the fifteen dollar parking, told myself,
Look, here it is, you like this.
But it was always still, and my eyes
were always filled with noise.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 4 2
Two Hundred Miles West
I sat looking west in the Mojave
and I thought of your burning, Los Angeles,
your phosphorescent nighttimes,
your heavy exhalation of industrial smoke.
I thought of your burning, Los Angeles,
and the edge of the west transfixed
in your heavy exhalation of industrial smoke.
The seeping toxins of Tijuana
transfix the edge of the West
in currents of chemical unlife.
The seeping toxins of Tijuana
are in our black breakers that role in the night.
Currents of chemical unlife
in the red drinking water of Vernon,
in our black breakers that role in the night
where America ends in the sea.
In the red drinking water of Vernon
we swallow factories for hope,
where America ends in the sea
of water pollution, light pollution.
We swallow factories for hope,
longing in the thirsty darkness
for water pollution, light pollution,
looking always West from a Mojave.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 34 23
On Monday they must have burned your fur.
Wolf dog, Sirius dog, your eyes shone motionless.
It wasn’t death that hardened your muscles,
froze your paws – it was something leaving.
It grows in flowers, moves in leaves.
It left the thick fur behind your ears last of all.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 7 6
In the morning at my grandma’s, gilt teacups
and silence, and the cats eating from bowls
in sunlight.
When I was twelve, running at midday,
the women – “Where do you go to school?”
“I don’t.”
Mornings at the studio, with the closed blinds,
the wet paint, the mineral spirits. Outside,
they’re mowing lawns.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 4 0
Kalypso's Song
I am the daughter of white-oceaned tropics.
As a child, the sun seared the waves around me
and the strength of the currents was mine.
When you came, I had already grown ancient as the sun,
felt, in my power, the infinitude of the sea.
You tore like driftwood, bled red into blue water.
Your skin sweated salt in the sun.
I am fair as the sky here, vast as the horizon.
Somewhere, some woman wept salt tears for you
and you fought the ocean seven years to find her.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 2 1
No. 3
   The leaves of the olive tree move
   behind glass.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 5 1
The sharp sunlight of late afternoon darkens.
Midway through the song, I am interrupted.
I return, after a year, to the yellow beach house.
I lose you, again and again.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 4 5
I make you soup and kiss away your cuts,
and I only wish I could bring you joy
as simply as I bring you vitamins.
I only wish you could be healed,
and I suppose that He is making you well –
but it is so slow in coming! So slow in coming,
and darling, you will suffer so much longer.
When I touch you,
I wish your suffering could fall away beneath my fingers;
when I rest my head on your shoulder,
I wish the soul you twisted sinning could breathe free.
There is a resurrection coming, dearest;
a resurrection to a glory everlasting.
Then you will hurt yourself no longer,
and He who heals bodies will heal your soul.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 1 4
You are a trajectory from which I have fallen, Moon-bound
Earth-boy. With height and speed your molecules shifted;
I dropped away by degrees — further, then further.
There must be all the sky between us now,
but I taste your dust with my fingertips,
follow afterglows.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 109 25
I've been writing a love poem
I knew it was coming, and then I knew
that I did not know what was coming.
I wrote a firm “Vesuvius” in blue block letters
everyday, for three weeks, on my forearm,
desperate attempts to steady a magmatic soul
tossed between thick eruption and a shattering aftermath of sparks.
The thin black pen felt cool and poised between my fingers.
I slowly traced in spidery ink the branching blood vessels on my wrists’ white underbelly.
There is life beneath these lines, beauty bound up in being –
Don’t you see?  Won’t you see?  I am living and breathing, beautiful, beside you.
This time I never found a pen.
I only thought, each day, of writing on my wrists, my arms, of writing everywhere,
shouting silent letters from my clothing, screaming in large white print
“I’m not here.”
I’d been searching for my old self, you see, but found
only half-hearted attempts and sadness that settled, waiting, in the night.
I guess
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 2 5
They never told me
that life is most dominated
by those times of irrational mental feeling,
when your thoughts are emotions that prey upon you,
when you lie prone, when you rush about
through the strange physicality of existence
pressed down, overcome by leaden discarnate realities,
by awarenesses that seem hardly to correspond to events.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 1 1
W. Ball Rd. and Dale St.
Dammit, kid. I missed the way you walk.
I missed your smiling purposefulness; I missed how small you are.
I’d forgotten until I saw you crossing the street to me –
shabby midday ghetto parking lot, and you
light blue in your pinstriped dress shirt,
self-contained, alert.
I pretended to read until you opened the door
because waiting for you feels like suffocating; watching you hurts too much.
And dear Jesus, I guess you didn’t know that I wanted to help you
when your small hands fumbled with your shirt collar.
Dear Jesus, kid, I guess you’ll never know how happy you make me.
:icongummyrabbit:gummyrabbit 2 2

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To know that you were there
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  • Reading: The Gathering Storm by Winston Churchill
  • Watching: Anything with Cillian Murphy in it


Artist | Student | Literature
United States
"That you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fulness of God."
Ephesians 3:17-19

Journal History


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cristinewakesuphappy Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2015  Hobbyist Writer

hi! i hope you don't mind my humble feature:
your lovely pieces have been handpicked.
:bulletblue: (link)
thank you.
gummyrabbit Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2015  Student Writer
This is a lovely feature Cristine, thank you so much! I'm honored.
cristinewakesuphappy Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
i am relieved that you don't mind the feature. 
i'm glad that you liked it. i've been admiring your work for as long as i can remember.
Calmality Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2015  Professional Traditional Artist
Thank you so much for the DD suggestion, it means the world to me! Completely made my day :love:
gummyrabbit Featured By Owner Jan 18, 2015  Student Writer
Oh, of course!  I'm so glad!  It's a lovely piece!
tirasunil Featured By Owner May 10, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the DD suggestion, I can't believe it! :D
gummyrabbit Featured By Owner May 16, 2014  Student Writer
Of course, it was my pleasure (:
LeftUnfinished Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Appreciate the watch! :hug:
SilverInkblot Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the devWatch :la:
gummyrabbit Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2014  Student Writer
:) Of course!
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