You've been on my mind...Quite frankly, you're heavy. Get off.
Not againns again. Yesterday I......died.It begi
From Whence She CameBack down to the sea-floor she goesback to the coracle-clusters and starfish thatclamour, cling to her heart too tight,walking barefoot towards where shecame from. It is too hard walking onearth, the way she wears pain like a wedding ringfrightens people.Back down, down, crawling on her bellyon the forest-floor, alive with the buzz and crawlof worms and bird-prey. Back where she belongs with hercrazy palpitating wolf-heart, her bloodydeer-throat leaking in the snow, her yelloweyes in the dark.Back down, beyond subway trains, piano lessons,falling rain, from whence she came, to the snow-covered wombwhere she first gulped air.Back down to a place before wildflowers,fish on land, back to a locked boxfull of old souls, from whenceshe came.
pollenwasp-waisted beautypray into my collarbonelet your snake tongue slitherwith the syllables.i wish for soft-chested nights,and the trickle of champagne down crystal glass.poppy-lips, lull me to sleep,nurse my coiling tongue with yours;tap my scalp like a silent drum,and wind my hair in between your fingerslike broken guitar strings.(serenade me with the buzz of pollen in your kiss.)
an arc is an infinite number of straight linessay i& you toolike madwe wanderedwhereverto god& asked it to appear& so it soul-sprouted out of earthor spilled all star-dusted from heavenor emerged from a gang of goliath worms& was so splendidly riddled with prismsor notwe saw god in marvelous feathersof flaking gold or seven robesof mica or divinely impoverishedwith a putrid buzzard’s beardor whateverwe were destinedto perceiveour phantoms of truth beso distinctly two of thesethat they must eventuallybecome onesee:down inside the kuk, kuk & skowcrackling out each green heron beakis a different sort of timeor now than isgrown within the roh-roh-roh & awkof every great blue onesodeep within a claw of bearblack & river-blessedexists a unique airof holy spacewhich is oh-so-neveralike that which issewn within a talon of owl-birdsilent & flying ready-spreadwith fiery night-sky eyessofar along the sweet flagpatch of summer swordswithered & seeds to setwea
The Girl With The Jackalope SmileShe always told me her life was a cake walkBut I'll never understand what kind of happiness comes from Crushing pastries under your footShe could stitch sunshine along her wristsAnd leave the rest of us in the darkTrying to paint our own cerulean skiesAnd leaving us all bereft when we only managedTo stain our skins blueAnd she could dance a two-tattoo on the arch of moon beamsLicking her diamond lips to taste something moreWillow wick finger tips gleaming with still flamesTempting a hand into her grasp so that she might Burn life back into our hollowed bodiesShe traced constellations on her lungsSo she could breathe the star dustAnd have shimmering breath all year longInstead of just in DecemberHer canines glinted when she grinnedCandle drops of light shinning in each toothAnd melting our hibernation patchworkTo reveal our summer skinHer veins surged with hot apple cider and wildfires And her cigarette smoke smelt of burning woodHer orange and red
Judgement"You need to stop doing this.""Stop doing what?""Writing me into your stories.""...why?""Because
it scares me. I'm not this guy that you write about. I'm not some kind of Prince Charming and I'm certainly not a sea God or whatever you like to say about my eyes every now and then.""Oh really?""Yeah. You really need to work on your judgement of people, because this is all wrong. It's like you don't know me at all!""So why don't you correct me and I'll fix my idea of you accordingly.""Well
firstly, I'm a really nervous person.""Yeah. Your hands are either fiddling with your hair or your sleeve, or you're biting your nails.""And I don't like going out. I'm a hermit.""Except to your best friends' houses, or to the animal shelter, or to me.""And I'm dead inside.""Says the boy who hides his tears at the sight of an injured puppy.""I do not.""Yes, you do.""Anyway, I'm not always nice to you. In fact, I really don't do enough.""You're right. Except
Death"Do you fear death?"The question loomed in the air before my body, as if a sword looming over someone almost conquered by their enemy. But I looked down at my hands and then back up, only to say, "Have you ever felt the pain of watching two lovers embrace at the end of a movie? It's supposed to be a happy ending. But your heart tells your lungs to stop breathing for just a minute
because it will never ever be yours.""Do you fear death?"A question repeated deserves an answer. But instead, my trembling hands sat clenched on my lap, the blue ink like veins showing through the frail covering that might rip apart any second. "Do you know what it's like to wake up in the middle of the night to hear a song, just to remind yourself, you're going to be all right? Over and over again
until it doesn't work anymore.""Do you fear death?"The invisible chain linked through my fingers, and I closed my tired eyes, this time, hearing the impatience in th
shuteyegot my mama a golden needle, butshe hid it in the hay - told methe sweet things in life are worth looking for over and over again'til your eyes just can't see anymore.
Introductions"Hi, I'm-""I know who you are.""You do?""You're the guy who thinks he's invisible.""I have a name-""It isn't important. Because you really don't think it's important.""All right. Since we've started out this way, let me just tell you, I know you too.""Yeah?""You're the girl who is broken.""I am not broken.""You're the girl whose eyes close every night and open the next morning, only to find you have never slept at all.""I sleep well. Besides-""You're the girl who dreams of a happy ending even though she has seen seventeen...no, eighteen unhappy ones in her eighteen years.""Happy endings are over rated. And you're-""You're the girl who wants something bigger, something stronger, just so the weakness in her body becomes something so much more.""You don't understand weakness the way-""You're the girl whose heart broke when she was so young, and she fixed it back together with superglue, but cannot ignore the cracks.""Superglue makes for a good companion, especially when-"
Crazy?Am I crazy?I think I am.Yup, definitely crazy.That's what I am.I must be crazy.Crazy.I have to be out of my mind.Because,I don't want to be like everyone else.I don't want to dress up.I don't want a relationship.I don't want to fall into fads.I don't want to listen to gossip.I don't want to be mean.I don't want to be super nice.I don't want to constantly be on my phone.I don't want to listen to your problems.I want to be myself.I want to wear miss-matched clothes.I want to be by myself.I want to like what I like.I want to hear silence.I want to be caring.I want to be calm.I want to deal with my own problem.I want to hear my own thoughts.I want to be myself.
make like yellow and slow downThis is a story about octagonsand road rage. Well, actually,this isn't a story; instead, thisis a to-do list. So complete it.*Paint a stop sign green,and GO away, one way,says an arrow on someother sign not to follow.Paint this one magenta;paint that one cerulean.Transform an entire streetinto a Crayola crayon box.Park in a no parking zone.Go directly to jail. Escape.Go three times the speedlimit, dumbass driver. Getcaught. Get a ticket. Geta life. Give me your ticket,but tell me it's for a train.Paint the railroad crossingsign invisible. Wait for it.Eat the 't' in train. "Hey,I'm a weatherman now."Flash flood alert: drownyourself. If you survivethe trainwreck, at least.Locate the nearest crosswalk,and backflip to the other side.Please get hit by a bus or caror truck. Get run over by anambulance for the Irony. Diein the hospital. I could hope.<
Condemned"Any last words?""I am innocent."
Afraid to SpeakMy lips start to tremble,I do not dare speak.I wish i could tell you,but i am too weak.My heart tenses upas days open and close.Someone, hear my plea,take me out of this doze.You walk in the doorway,i avert my gaze.Do not notice me,and do not say it's a phase.I'm sick of these words,I hear them every day.The last person i want to hear it fromis you, or i will pay.It will cut deep in me,deeper than you will know.Because i can hide it, you see,but the pain will only grow.Inside me it will stay,but i'm good at this game.You'll be none-the-wiserto this incredible pain.Don't reject this feeling,it is more than you and i.But even though it has control,i've found that i don't mind.Because it's more than what you think,more than just a sham;it's more than just a feeling -this is who i am.
note 32 i am so terrified
Destroy This PoemDestroy This PoemTo the person grading this poemTo the kind, patient woman hovering over this with a penWaiting to say kind, patient words in response, do me a favor:Stop it.Dont Patronize me.I did not slave over this with hammer and anvilShaping it into a masterpiece.I didnt paint it onto the ceiling of some church,Going blind from the pain and the stress.I didnt even turn this in on time.And while Im writing this in my fifth-period economy class,You can bet Im not concerned with iambs and troches and Italian terza rima.No, Im concerned with how much water is left in my water bottle.This isnt a masterpiece.Who are we kidding?Youre not going to hurt it, and you most certainly arent going to hurt me.Stop it.Dont patronize me.I want you to destroy my work.I want you to rip it to shreds with sadistic dominatrix glee.Tear it apart from margin to margin;Laugh openly at its crippled, struggling body.Stab throu
All Forty-fourI hid the scars... all forty-four.I knew that he knew, but he never asked. Not once.I hide a smile because I know he doesn't mind them, but I frown a little at his easy acceptance.Does he really hate them in his heart? These scars. My ever present brands of personal rejection.He squeezes my hand and I look at the ring on my finger. "Acceptance" the little diamonds seem to say.I pull my sleeves down lower and slouch a little more.I know he's seen the scars- those accursed scars- on my arms, but what about my shoulders, my neck.... my back? I escape to the bathroom and look in the mirror. They are still there, I know, but I remove my shirt to check anyway. There they are, white and mocking as they have been for years. Forty-four individual voices saying that I'm ugly. I believe them. Quietly he enters the bathroom, and stands behind me. His reflection remains emotionless as his eyes rove my back. He says nothing, but brushes my hair away fr
a phenomenonYou are a trajectory from which I have fallen, Moon-boundEarth-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.