when you wish you had-n't-stringing your eyes with garlands of stars i
wish to impeach you, maybe impregnate you
with a will to breathe
but what are you but an incoming breath
to me? an unapologetic zephyr gracing
my inner vineyards
ruffling the leaves with whispers
(i understand it
isn't so collapsible, and
i'm forgetting i forget
but when the winds turn
you're a harlot, ruining this year's
yield of self
(importance and confidence)
and i'm understandably drinking
the vinegar left
trying to breathe in the lights
i gift you with - always
and i have only the stars
the stars to blame.
catalan nighti fall between the sticky sheetscatalan night5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
like rice paper on the roof of your mouth
when you bite into a white rabbit
running errandsit's not therunning errands4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
eggs or milk
that I'm after
it's the sound
plansI want to moveplans5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at the rafters
of every new poem
I want to paint
of a man
covered in rabbits
I will call it
'man covered in rabbits'
(it will revolutionize the art world)
I want to
leave things be
when I believe
before they're leaving
i the lost aloof of breathi know my heart was lost under the doori the lost aloof of breath7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
that night it rained pink and blue
babies too and bruises
i was sure the firmament would crush
like all the lost pieces of paper
onto me under me
i know my heart was lost under the door
the morning it took two trucks to come
and empty out a room
doom was what i remembered with up
down left to be right in an instant replay
of being too small to ride
i know my heart was lost under the door
the afternoon you wrapped up winter
and summer in plastic bags
just rags of years bright coloured
and expensive but nothing is as cheap
as walking away
i know my heart was lost under the door
the inbetween time where i was
lost on a strange stranger's roof
aloof and awe-struck with the coming
of the dawn i stifled a crawling of
breath feathered and left
symptoms of red a materialistsymptoms of red1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
inside of you
unknitting your sweater
& in your dream
you are a wolf eating
a flower in an orange field. the world
is ending. an unnamed girl stains you
as if she were tea
giving up to a
she writes a story: the unrequited
blurry visions of two visionaries
Of Lostthreadbare eyes, a might,Of Lost5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
uncomfortable, but you're
too loveable, love
and sonnets are less
ode to your faded skin, I
wear you when I dream
for you are a full and Orphic wing
give me something poetic.like the way the grassgive me something poetic.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at dawn. scratch that,
too cliche. say,
shush, close your eyes
see the dawn
then forget. forget
is poetic. remember
your grandmother, sick
in the hospital, saying
the old should be beautiful.
enduring biopoiesis getting over itenduring biopoiesis1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in quick gasps of rabbit fur
and valley tangles
we would have
had such darling
strung out on fake roses
floating on our sun-striped backs
but we're so
some world-children cutting
out, tuning in yet
something to write about...I'd been drug sniffedsomething to write about...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
addled & otherwise
by agents in
points of origin
hope to heart to god
like father thought
hand to fist to mouth
like mother taught
as if no one had
colored those pale
so I shook
as all good books
to the shape
you've made me
I tried to trace
as a map
but found you'd
is this love?your monster is eating myis this love?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
monster which is living
inside of me
musings.90 percent of your body is stardustmusings.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you got arrested again
talk about disregard
for the extraordinary
debrisShe obsesses over and memorizes photos in the recessiondebris3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The soft curvature of the grey-grid
every television suicide
explosions of pink pixels
and the artist hired by the defense
to re-imagine an alternate theory of creation:
an unfolded galaxy laid before Congress
all oceans emptying themselves-
arms manifest and reach
Everything after was a reminder of this chaos
the ceaseless collision of bodies
our friend's room holding no language
while we in contact come,
compelled to lay our audio upon the dead
It's over but the signs remain:
Withdraw your oceans from these hostile countries.
Make ugly that which remains.
Immolate the buildings in their emptiness.
Later the dispatches of doomed aircraft played
And I tried to write about growing up with you
but it became a conversation we used to have
about space as a desert
and the painted horses of that desert
and I saw only a man on a street beginning to shout.
The instructions we were left are quite simple:
Petition your god for flowers.
too much britpop "too much britpop"too much britpop4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we are disconnected telephones or piano
solos. we are both irregular french verbs. we are dope.
we could lie on each other consensually in conditions
of dry & wet. we should never be
I want to spend months of afternoons
you; I want to be pretentious in your company
drinking soy lattes & discussing proust or wittgenstein. you hate
most of my friends, but that's fine because I do too.
I want to catch buses with you. And trains. I want to
catch trams, trains buses, taxis & never feel
you remind me of noel gallagher.
the part of me that listens to Britpop with no irony tells me I might
love you. maybe. you have the perfect height for heartbreaking.
being without you is like inhaling without
I can live without you I just don't want to.
today goes like this-buy a watermelon. eattoday goes like this-5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
said watermelon. spit
on your brother -
to do your laundry, forgot
to leave the lights on. run
into something in the dark.
break a bone. break two
at the color of your cat. realize
you don't have a cat. you are going
insane. forget to care.
sleep outside in the pouring
forget to care.
the end of dreamseverybody dies,the end of dreams2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but it's the way you go out that kills,
so no more hard light;
i wanna dream some noise
with all of my predator's heart
stripped down to a single
screaming neuron of pain
i want to sleep -
and make myself over and over and over....
stripped to the simplest
core of an atom
translucid and molecularly untamed
Shellthis is how I will end:Shell7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
stripped bare, washed
to the bone; ransacked by memory,
or lack thereof
too many years of pretending
this shell is empty. no red marrow
to disrupt these concave walls. hollow and
bleached white on the shore: yes,
I echo. the wind whistles through me.
I would have been a skeleton. flesh
is excess: look, I would have been bone.
a dry wind whipped the words from my mouth. I was clean
and unspoken for a long time, I was silent.
this white shard
is impervious to the sea. no torrent of salt
shall corrode me, no such soft-scent rain
to weather this unbroken oyster.
thoughts pearlize and
precipitate no longer pure liquid. look,
I would have died unblemished, gone to dust
a flawless whole. one grain of sand
defeats this hope.
this will be my end:
until the sun rose, and
following, like a ship, like a herald, the day.
anatomically incorrecti've got fists i want to kick you withanatomically incorrect1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and feet that try and punch
eyes that smell the color of your camouflage
when you hide your yearling
soft and oh so well
in the phosphenes and their swell against
the eggshell of my skin
that can hear the sicklysweetness of some
sweat mixed with my own
like libertines who lose their edges
when held against the molten dawn
of telling tales and pathslittle rabbit,of telling tales and paths4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where have you been?
pawing through some
sharpening your fangs
must you wrap
your bouncing head
your flat eyes
cradles the most
each new habit
Day and night.Day and night2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the dwindling light,
a pine tree houses a blurred moon.
The stars come out,
making imaginary animals
out of our telepathy.
A boy lighting matches
when he should be asleep
turn into the walls of his room,
the dirt under his fingernails.
From the light streaming in off the street,
something catches her eye--
a flash of bike,
When she turns to look
I touch her hair.
It is like a shimmer of water.
It is like remembering the girl that I adored in childhood.
When she turns back
I am still touching her hair.
It takes so much courage
to show what we mean.
Instead of sleeping
I open and close my eyes like fists.
While my mind prepares dreams
like elaborate designs on heavy fabrics,
a sub-atomic bean of vacuum
floats somewhere inside my body.
It is a clone of my awareness,
it is an erased blemish.
I say "my soul" and it trembles.
I slip inside it
to sleep, or to write poems,
or to remember lost things.
I am on the verge of grieving
at how small it i
i wanted heartbreaki love you, he said, buti wanted heartbreak5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
every conversation is fatigued, i'm so
tired of his voice. it is
as painful as migraines, it has nothing
for me but memories
of hours of talking, of endless
sessions of speech.
of the days he
stood me up because it was raining
and I was alone in elizabeth
street buying bob dylan &
espresso. I wish
he had broken my heart, or had
seduced me and left, or had
done something beautiful or
then burnt it.
he just wanted the
girls who spoke with
their mouths full of candy &
he wanted me to be just like them. i tried
and then i tried dressing down. he saw
girl and said "be just like her." but
vodka and promises wasn't enough
he should have kissed me passionately
or written me frantic prose that
tore me to shreds. he should have
been charming or arrogant, he should
have loved me like a
lover, not a boy.
I love you, he repeated, but I was silent
I wanted fireworks, explosions,
passions, ecstasy, lust, long conversations
florenciashe believes again that possession is a kind of miracleflorencia2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
stuttering in metro the history of continents
a bird > a woman > a room
of old linen
in abstracts of florence parallel florencia
her bones and pangea could be drawn there maybe
think: if this train derails
because time because the failure rate
is absolution divided constantly
it's like freedom and indica
all contraindicated folk religion
the hybrid on her tongue like a brief encounter
with old lovers in a rose garden at fairmount part
i thought of you today
thought of los angeles
that pathology east and of high-rise
designed to dance in the event of an earthquake
all the things that brought you back there
it's not the act of breaking down
on highways on trains in parks
it's an inert brand of want
that feels something like evolution
and oh everything is full of condition
i drink and speak your name often
but what an accident this all is
night falls through grates - page onewater weights to asphalt. pulls through holed shoes. night closes, seals houses in wax.night falls through grates - page one2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
streetlamps petal the sky. yellow stems burn traffic. ponds bruise. mechanical light
stains clouds: frill and flatten. it is harder to trust yourself in a familiar place. body
pulses animal. repeat touch, movable skin over cartilage. unpierced thick, acrylic. air
textures cold. find the hole in landscape and place your self. muscle memory forks.
stars punch dichotic. bright voices burn numbers behind pollution. measures of heat
and distance, do not connect to signified. zeroes fill space like a laugh track. television
threads a window, limbs twitch the frilled eye. without rhythm, movement condenses
into pain. te le vissss a hiss over ice. no blood in the blue. mythology secreted in
pores. repeated cell phone open/close. rub skin off left index finger. red represents
both the caregiver and destroyer. is the first colour to disappear under water.
telephone wires wind a hush. salt skin against fabric.
a new year's resolution.i will not write. i will nota new year's resolution.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
out of the clouds,
to hear laughter
in the sunshine. no more
tracing pavement dreams
across the borders, no,
will i look
in poems. i won't fall
into the ocean
or confuse a smile
for your love. no,
i will not
be a poet.
I Hope New York Does Not Sink-Open, theseI Hope New York Does Not Sink-6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
arms like elevator doors
aggravated too many times
by the pressing of a button.
The dark breaks in through my curtains
and I am looking at a stranger
the way I never do on the train. Each day
is sun and jeans and aching licking at heels, traveling
around the ankle, throat
much lighter than kneecap, eyes
wider than my stride.
The first thing I
learn from the city is why
my posters keep falling off the walls.
They are colorful and expressive, but
do not know how to cling
to that which sustains their brightness.
We are seven blocks off broadway
and the traffic is spot on. I am
five minutes ahead
of exhaustion, until I deposit
my breath onto my bedcovers and
sink my steps like ships into the carpet.
Bouyancy, you see
remains a theoretical state, until suddenly tested
by the weight of daring.