to which he could never respond

why does one call it
falling when it's more like
sinking?
honeysweet
quicksandsleep
deeply
into the marshes of his body.
his body.
his body is but
undiscovered territory...
a lush, savage country
where i seek to
leave my mark
(if only for a moment)
to make it seem conquerable,
mine.
i long to trace the lines
of every peak and valley,
use his sighs as the compass
to guide my step.
i will lose myself in the
jungle of him-
stumbling through
the tireless brush
naked,
speaking in tongues,
like a thick-lipped native
possessed by
primordial gods with
names unprounceable.
i will wait by the
drybed of his collarbone for
the rain to collect,
and i will drink.
i will crawl through the desert of
his belly
to find cool solace
in the cavern of
his navel.
i will track my paces with
a cartographer's detail
in fine ink
to guide the explorers
who will next follow my trail.
for there will be others-
lured to a sailor's death,
dashed against the flat stones
of his shoulders,
his sirensong
a last folly.

new york i love you, but you're bringin' me down

5:01 p.m., thirteeenth day.
i'm typing with one hand, leaning out the fire escape to smoke my first clove in a few days. the radiator beneath my legs spits angry bursts of steam to hasten my pending departure.
this isn't working out quite as i'd planned.
this city could swallow me whole. i don't venture out half as much as i should.
i'm lonely. and jobless. both to the point of desperation.
i hadn't told many people i was "moving" because i wanted to simply arrive, start working, then surprise everyone with all the good news.
there isn't much to report.
i find myself endlessly scouring want ads, sending my portfolio to countless agencies, and never getting a response.
even the headhunter i met with when i visited last month won't return my emails about either of the two jobs i thought i had in the proverbial bag.
at least in miami, i had the promise of a few hundred bucks a week and some welcome distraction. my cat. the man who's kept me warm for a few months. dinners with the goddess i call my best friend. the chance of bumping into people i know.
while manhattan can offer me anonymity, it has kept me locked up and silent.
i thought i knew enough people here to have a support system.
i've been lucky to spend time with two old high school friends. both lovely, fantastic, amazing women who i'm blessed to have kept in contact with over the years.
last weekend brought some smiles. friday night in the east village, smoking my first hookah, having a 3 a.m burger at a diner laughing about old seinfeld reruns. saturday afternoon in the lower east side, having brunch and singing karaoke.
(note: and as i write all this, my lovely laura calls to make plans. see? so very lucky to have her. every girl lately- jiji, jill, laura- back from my past makes me feel more at home than anything. i always forget how much certain friends from my past stood out as family- friends for life- and the surest path to my not being so goddamned isolated. let's admit it. it's a game i've mastered.)
"opposing forces" seems to be the phrase of late.
people i barely know have commented on how there's something intangible about me. about my simultaneous urge to be the extroverted, confident, boisterous girl ready to have a thrilling conversation with even the potted palm in the corner and my tendency to curl into myself whilst staring off, completely unable to form even the most basic, coherent thought.
everything about me is at odds with itself.
i used to write it off as being part of my charm, but i'm certain that it only makes me completely unavailable.
what can you expect? i'm a half jewish, half christian- half english, half irish- half creative, half intellectual- thoroughly maddening woman.
perhaps someone in this massive metropolis will seek to break the code.
until then, i'll go back and forth between comfort and struggle.