Sunday, November 15, 2009
this is when i leave you
between thighs
just a hole in the wall
next to the bathtub
dark enough
to be afraid of
I go to someone else
to get kissed
as the cats paw at the door
to our apartment
I cry between
spin cycles
water thrashes like thistles
around my waist
apples grow
soft in the night
my body is a nest full of
little open mouths
I do not want
you to feed them
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
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Wants
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
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.