Thursday, October 29, 2009

this is the way heroism works

your hands like thistles

prick the skin so lightly



leave stippled pink scratches

on the part of myself


that never sees the sun

that trembles under touch



my body is a nest full of

little open mouths



and I do not want

you to fill them

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Without Light

my head is full of diamonds

that cannot be fished with a net


they fall through the holes


clatter in a flurry

of sharp tumbles


he offers tweezers

to grip them like eyelashes


but I am afraid of scratches

and memory loss



so I leave them

in the darkness

and wonder


if there is no light,

are they even diamonds anymore

Friday, October 23, 2009

Why This Ended



I would have stayed with you

if it weren’t for all those starfish

losing their limbs in your pockets,

trailing saltwater down your pant leg,

pooling at your feet.



I would have stayed with you

if it weren’t for the way your handwriting

slants down and off of the page.

your words lead to nowhere.



I would have stayed with you

if it weren’t for all those birds

crashing into your kitchen windows,

leaving their prints on the glass,

eerie outlines of wing and feather.


I would have stayed with you

if it weren’t for that hole

in the wall next to the bathtub,

dark enough to be afraid of.


I would have stayed with you

if it weren’t for all those butterflies

caught in the grill of your car,

wings like confetti

whirling through your engine.



I would have stayed with you

if it weren’t for the low drone

of your synthesizer, vibrating

the walls of the bathtub,

pulsing through my water.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

10/18/09

no one
can touch
my upper back
like you

& it's
breaking
my goddamn heart

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Wants

wants to rattle the moon
around in my mouth like a jawbreaker

wants to show you
the tan lines underneath

wants driving
windows down when it’s too cold

wants to pick off
black fingernails

wants some bruises
from my car being too small

wants some whiskey
an apple & Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots

wants to bake
to make jam

wants to undress
with hipbones touching

wants money
an impressive amount of books

wants to not be hungry
after brushing my teeth

wants these wolves
growling

wants you
and not you

Thursday, October 8, 2009

(1) "ghazal" (2) bustin' out (3) rondelet

(1)

How can I think in the dark when all I can feel
is the white heat of all this swelling?

The eagerness of mosquitos brightens my sheets,
jolts me awake at three a.m., thick with all this swelling.

I spend these nights tearing at my skin with whittled nails,
digging at my heart that throbs in time to all this swelling.

We are making mountains around these knees like doorknobs.
We need to round them out with all this swelling.

Oh, skin of mine, the mosquitoes are arranging bites
into more than constellations, more than all this swelling.

There are fireworks like zinnias, blooming out of hot white centers.
My back is the Fourth of July, alive with all this swelling.
____________________________


(2)


How can I think in the dark
when all I can feel is the white heat
of all this swelling?

The eagerness of mosquitos
brightens my sheets,
jolts me awake at three a.m.

I spend these nights
tearing at my skin
with whittled nails,
digging at my heart that throbs.


We are making mountains
around these knees like doorknobs.

We need to round them out.




Oh, skin of mine,
the mosquitos are arranging bites
into more than constellations,
more than all this swelling.

My back is the Fourth of July.
There are fireworks like zinnias,
blooming out of hot white centers.

________________________________


(3)


I spend these nights
tearing my skin with whittled nails.
I spend these nights
with eager mosquitos, and the
white heat of all this heart-swelling.
Oh, bright skin, bites like zinnias.
I spend these nights.