Melanie Mitzner
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for what

5/18/2013

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i want not
do not want what you give me
to think about
there are no consequences
no conclusions
the white, the black, the pattern
of love, the colors...
the longing
why do we forget?

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the Remains

2/17/2013

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the soprano down on 12th street unleashed the firestorm.

she sucked all the oxygen from the room

filled with despondent artists seeking redemption

from self denigration, despair, uncertainty and chaos.

you must look into her eyes, hold that gaze

and do not waver.

the turbulence unbearable,

the intensity, the burn

of years confessing all but love

that sat in an unopened box

waiting to be claimed.

we were fearless companions in the name of art,

excess and social justice.

oh but for the night of splendor when we touched

the hunger fathoms deep as if we would die of starvation

when our plates were full

the curtain of torrential rain

as the wind shear strengthened

fire whirls exploding, darting about

aimlessly.

compensation for obliteration

of all things known and unknown.

do not look back, do not turn around to see the carnage.

that is what we told ourselves

because it seemed we could not bear

the loss as we watched the dissolution,

as if we would lose everything,

lose it all.

our lives, our loves, our freedom, our history

as confidantes in a reckless and morally incomprehensible world.

we watched as it all burned up

and found

among the charred remains

the box.

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semiotics #1

12/4/2011

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line by line
i move through day and night
in foreign tongue
the suggestion of,
the possibility,
the inevitable outcome.

flashing in time
with the past,
the unexpected
resurrected.

with the longing
of endless nights
and lost days in your arms,
future past,
imperfect,
imperative and 
present tense.

rescue us from transparency
and thin disguise
wandering aimlessly,
unavoidably exposed.
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mining the depths

6/12/2011

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the embodiment
the presence
the essence of love as it expands and contracts
as familiar as the haircut you gave your baby brother before you pushed him off the porch
as foreign as a language, beautiful and incomprehensible
looking for gesture and nuance as the years add up
mining deeper even though depth is always risky as any miner will tell you when he descends into the darkness
prospecting for bodies, weighing profits,  
extracting material before the reclamation.
break it down, build it up. it's all here
rising slowly to the surface
face to face, open handed, willing, ripe,
seductive
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Riot of Red

12/30/2010

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Longing for the we of us,
inseparable, invincible and free
the you of us,
art and mindfulness, tender to the touch.
Stronger than carbon steel,
consciousness higher and deeper,
always gaming the years 
and trading up.
Visions in broad strokes
from the strange to the bizarre.
Visions of loveliness, delicate and perishable.
Exquisite this life with you...

Beauty incarnate, my love.

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Worst Case Scenario

11/24/2010

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One morning you walk out and there is nothing to fear.

Another, nothing more than fear itself.

The steepness of the hill, the thunderheads, the ominous outlook sheltered
deep inside to protect you from the worst case scenario as all life seems to be measured against. Worst to best, with nothing of consequence in between. 

That is our depression, our longing, our escape from the moment which seems so ordinary when it is all that we have. How did we arrive here?

The photo on the wall I always wake up to never seems the same. She is still alive, my mother, with or without judgment but always wanting to explain that my life was not the first one lived, nor the last. That there is always a solution to a problem that seems so insurmountable but not always the solution
I am looking for. 

Why after all these years am I not satisfied by this? 

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Hung

10/28/2010

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 You book, you’re always telling a story,

always characterizing, always plotting to find that part of me

that may or may not exist. Love is fiction, baby. It comes and goes

and grows and recedes and sometimes tells the truth. Entire worlds

are crossed and uncrossed and canceled out due to marketing failures. We

are human after all, and after. The most, the broadest, the widest, the largest, the ‘est’ is the problem. Nothing more. Face value, that’s what we’re afraid of. Giving is an act, treason a cause. Lying is a desperate attempt, loving a lunar landscape. Light my way, oh desperate one in the common of the more desperate among us. 

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Aunt Lillian R.I.P.

10/25/2010

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Designer fashion before it meant anything to me,  those heels a vibrant color, a dizzying pattern, so mesmerizing. To my total naiveté I embraced my Aunt Lillian even when she banished me, implored me to take a nap when she just couldn’t take it any more. I never knew her struggle, the body she couldn’t own that owned her, a mind that tricked with sardonic humor to cover up all that she could not control. Today I bought a hat at a fancy department store, the same day I heard the news that she left this earthly plane with all of its faults and pleasures. I will miss her so. 
 Farewell, my beauty. You will always make me remember to laugh in spite of it all, to dress like it was the last opportunity, to love like I never loved before because you showed me change, that change can happen against all odds. My remarkable, amazing, Aunt Lillian. 
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Infectious

9/26/2010

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Love love love...

You forget it because you think you have to.

You remember it because you don’t.

You cling to it as the last bastion of humanity,

rival government, too governed or  no choice.

How can it be, this and that and yours and mine

and lengthy and short and desperate and

divine and sacred and blasphemous? How can it keep

coming back like a virus? 

 
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In Kind

7/28/2010

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What incredible views from down here,
from that place we all travelled before
but this time the destination is new.
A touch, a glance, an impression so powerful it floats,
like the gravity of a new planet undiscovered, 
brilliantly lit and surrounded by an atmosphere 
you no longer have to adjust to.
Family, that strange and other worldly space
nothing else can replace, to which nothing else compares.
All the years that passed, all the oblivion and misconceptions,
all the baggage you cannot check, has somehow disappeared.
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