things that go bump in the nightabsence makes the heart a monster.things that go bump in the night1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
virginity is like an envelopemy mother said her mother knew.virginity is like an envelope1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i wonder if she stumbled home like i did,
fifteen and beer-loose
tied to the door like a thunderstorm with black lips
and i wrote a story about disaster,
a quiet two sleds long.
a box full of beads, i swallowed
fifteen needles, mommy. don’t
tell me i’m not sorry.
don’t call me a whore you bag of bones
you lock-loose suitcase do you even
recognize me look at my face my toothache skin
i am not the one with the knife.
my mother never slept with a boy
who didn’t love her never let a boy
sleep on her while she lay awake beneath
the shroud of his skin breathing only
when her voice-box gathered too much dust.
you have to know i didn’t do
it on purpose. he slid beers down my throat
till i felt like a landfill.
i was not yet a crescendo. maybe i was a polka-
you couldn’t tell. i got home
with my legs full of nightmare.
the doctor said xanax.
i said i am a ruin like the ones
we saw in peru.
a balloon in a funeral poem.
they can't be takentheir bleach skin caught my eyethey can't be taken2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
albino white against the wild
hair like bright sky electric in the briars
haloed sister gods shot down like fawn
symptoms of red a materialistsymptoms of red10 months 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
carnivore stainsYOU BECOME HUMAN WHEN YOUR CHEEKScarnivore stains2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
FLUSH AND YOUR GIGGLES ARE TRAILS
OF INNOCENCE ESCAPING THROUGH YOUR MOUTH.
before that you are a demon.
a purple bruise,
beating and wrinkled creature with eyes
cut into diamond ends that retract the light
placed on it in razor-sharp reflections.
you crawl forth into the world with an aching
squeal that could even make the heavens
bow to their knees,
make your mother bleed
like the first day of Woman.
your nails, nine months grown to fit that
of a clover's lucky leaf, sharpen like nails in the floor-
board, and your mother is a prune in which
her womb is lined with your exit marks.
your nails sweetly trim her bottom-lips
so that you will be the last thing
to break her, the first to make her,
the one to kiss her for
blue lighti want toblue light3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
live in your
i want to
i want to
movingjust before the start of springmoving2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
whilst blue moonlight washed
my slightly sacred thing
the left side of my brain
i moved out overnight
in a dream of sharp lines
as mad naked women
danced to thick phallic symbols
all covered in vine
i packed up in the darkness
(but for the blue)
placed my logic in a square trunk
my fears and my algebra too
left the past with the future
left all science with facts
and found history quite light
for all that it lacks
i left for the street sweeper
perfect plato in boxes
left him all for a vision
of green spotted foxes
reminiscencesomeday we won't remember thisreminiscence2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
no one will, not the dirt or stars,
not the dust scattered when a sun
dies and the universe swallows its birth
not the men who wasted lives
proving theories long debunked or
the whores leaning in doorways to fuck
soldiers who won't come home
and no one will remember the dog
hit on route sixty-three, the first guts
i saw glistening in summer heat
just as no one remembers i was the kid
they called to crack open the fire hydrant
because no one else could and they
shrieked, soaked in water no one remembers,
soaked in water that could have saved lives,
water circling into the sewer,
waste no one
on dying youngdeath is senseless, and in thison dying young2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
infinite senselessness there is a loss
of words. a loss of hope. a loss of
the Great unifier- the uninhibited
inhibitor, the petulant bird of prey
soaring over all heads, landing and plucking
from our masses the young, the old, the
wicked, and the innocent- the fortunate
and the unfortunate alike.
i have walked myself through eighteen years-
a small, contemptuous age: bent on destroying
everything, and keeping all the rest-
a timeless, weary age, popular culture demands
that these are the best years of life, when you
have not yet known it. and i am not denying
that i have lived-
many a night, i have sat on rooftops,
questioning my favor, questioning the gods,
smoking was the big fuck you, the proclamation
that i would not tremble at death's feet,
that i would welcome it, that i would
tower over it, my entrails glittering
upon my wrist. my lungs hanging blackly from
my ears. i realize the staunch idiocy of both
smoking, and not smoking, of tryin
Dear Lord.If I am a wildflower, give me the widest purplest wingsDear Lord.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If I am a knockout, let my smile really pack a punch
I work too hard, God.
It's funny how you hold
together the universe
and spinning Saturn and
Pluto never gives you
Why I Can't Love a PoetHe said you're beautiful likeWhy I Can't Love a Poet1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
black birds on a gray sky or
a tree that's recently died but
holds its last green leaves until
they wither and crack, swept away
by a northern wind bearing his name.
my father has started to take pictures.my father has startedmy father has started to take pictures.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
to take pictures: of the flowers
and birds he sees on his way
to the lookout, a hike that my lover
and I have yet to successfully
complete but my aging father
walks daily; of the puppy
he bought my sister for
her birthday, all paws
and ears; of a moose
eating out of our bird feeder
last week; of the black bear that lives
in our backyard, which my father's
dog trees every other week; of
the land he tends to all summer,
even after long days of aching
backs and feet and hands. he is
so proud of them, in his shy way,
so eager but apprehensive
when I ask to see. I wish
I could make him understand
how much he has already shown me.
how much the way he sees his world
shapes the way I see mine. how
I have always relied on his vision: the lens
through which my lens peers.
In stillness1. My bones are rocks, curved and exfoliated and shapedIn stillness1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
by the heavy ocean storms in my lungs,
like cyclones of dust and regurgitated diary entries
have been lifted by the trembling earth
and slammed into my spine, repeatedly, until I bow
before everything more powerful than I could ever be.
And they are yours.
2. I love you,
like my lips thirst for more than your mandarin gums,
so I can eat through the hurt, clogged in your throat.
"My heart is obviously incapable of holding love";
let me prove you wrong.
3. Our sex lies in the pain along my neck,
where my blood has pooled and frozen.
I can barely feel my fingers or my toes and I am lost
in the kind of surrendering you never (have the time to) think about.
4. Like plates, we can only make something
when we converge or diverge;
mountain ranges for our breaths to circulate,
or new plains for our feet to soak into our soles.
Clamber over the trenches your fingers have carved on my chest
and hide under my immobile muscles.
To Him, With Loveintimacy is airing outTo Him, With Love1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
those facts you have held
allowing someone else
to draw his own conclusions about
your vain pursuits of existence.
terminali.terminal2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we landed in oklahoma
and drank cheap martinis in the terminal;
you carried my guitar and fell in love
with my voice but not my tongue,
not my hands.
there's a man with a garage
that looks like a plane because nothing
meant more to him. will you make a model
of that bar? will you make a model
of my red cheeks? or will you live in a townhome
with her and three children?
the problem was you're not gay.
the problem was there was feeling
but it wasn't for us. i had you but
it wasn't for us.
i'm not sure if i resent you,
but i remember that bar and every pockmark
on the stool you sat on while i played
the song that parted your lips;
you remember every pockmark in oklahoma
like they were ours.
RxI would prescribe for eachRx2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and every one of you to
spend an uncomfortable amount of time
with someone more medicated than yourself.
It doesn't matter if they see things,
or refuse to feed their guts,
or happen to be so anxious that they
Just lounge around and pretend to drink
untouched coffee. Smoke unlit
cigarettes. Let them choose the
conversation topic; it will be interesting-
It will be about
It will be about
It will be about the kinds of things that
stand over your bed and burrow deep into your
chest with their lighted eyes.
He or she will make the case
that every medicine shares the same
intended side effect of making you
feel better, just long enough until they
start speaking with shadows again
and consider overdosing on sanity.
If I were them, I would
accent this whole conversation by
flicking the light switch
As if it were
day and night
all over again.
blowweblow2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
i liked when you
held up the glass for me
like i was some sort of queen,
you on your knees, dollar bill squeezed,
coke in the place of a sneeze.
thump (brief pause) thumpity-thump thump. thump
(brief pause) thumpity-thump thump. my own pulse
puzzling and yours fit in the empty
space to the right of me (to the right of my heart.)
and then i blew you
in the football stadium.
and we climbed up to the VIP
section to fuck. you fucked me hard
facing against the crystal glass, and i could
just imagine all their rich old faces
shriveling up at the seductive o of my mouth
and your groans, 'fuck, oh god, hannah, fuck:
afterward we laid in the bleachers and sat
in the quiet hum of your hands in my hair
and your lips on my face.
after this: we
shuffled to your car in a rain-drizzle trance,
and you cooled the smoke with your mouth
pressing into mine, gently gracing my lips.
we passed smoke back and forth for
like keeping storms in your mouthyes, your universe expandslike keeping storms in your mouth10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
because you chose so.
teasing like a wave, they leave,
their dots never even waver in the storm
while you wait. tense tiny palms,
every day the unshaven sea drools rivers.
if only you could forget like they do,
forget as easily as they surrender
forget as you fall back onto the kindness of strangers
and the kindness of spiders...
yes, here your skin will be pegged to outposts all over the globe,
yes, your fingers will break
and your nails will rub off,
yes, the prodigal children will pinch your concave chest,
yes, things change.
theyThey lie comatose in the corners of my headthey2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Salt circles wrap them like blankets
Ready for rituals to make them clean
But the piles grow thicker
The bile rises in rushes
I push past and rinse my mouth
And go to sleep over things that are dead to me
Electric regrets and coming storms that may not hit
I see them and they see me
A threatening tease
I confess they make me weak
honey, we're a couple wars spenti met a girl oncehoney, we're a couple wars spent2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who told me she had a boy
with a war set in the crooks of his lungs
and vocal cords, the perfect mix between
a hippie and a marxist,
with fire in his eyes the size of hammers
and coal, a manifesto of cold stares and
the distant histories of hiroshimas, nagasakis
words stuck on the thickest
parts of his lips, sealed in the cracks
with democracy and deity, hitlers
and stalins and mussolinis,
the pawn of the highest pedigree.
but he had his own soviets, americans
and europeans, she said:
the calluses, muscles, of his own skin-
the finest of cells of the working class,
the bone and the brittle of worth and vice,
entitlements accompanied by the ache of
the bitten, copper tongues of liberty.
down the cliffs1down the cliffs3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there is fire in the moon
and it slides down into the oceans
to sink ships of titanic metal, where
sand kings suck in algae to their
down it travels deep in the caves of
their rib cages to drown in the white
crippled sea boulders stifling a
sigh from the gulls.
there lives a magic man along the
cliffs and every night he jumps into
salt is in his nose and his eyes and his
veins and his bones and his blood,
when he lifts up to breathe he is swerving
like a distraught drunken man high on
stones and holy twigs.
the stars that fall into the ocean sizzle and
whisper to the planets for home, for pull
the stars that die are like drowning cities;
like ancient women, unloved, alone;
crooked elbows like birds buried in the sand.
the sea kings run their horses along the craters
in my finger joints; the hill of my right index.
in my arms live the hippocampus
and the ocean dragons with eyes of grey.
they speak in tongues of old dirt;
sleep like ashes.
yadda yadda1yadda yadda2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
love is strange
working through many avenues-
sometimes, it takes a peak
of shoulders through a slim
other times, it takes a year of
friendship and not caring if she
fucked your friends or not, if
your friends loved her
and still other times, it takes a bed
and too many hands and not enough
space and little time to wait and no
time to waste-
and no time to wait.
While waiting for the heat-death of the universeWhile waiting for the heat-death of the universeWhile waiting for the heat-death of the universe1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I lose whole nights of sleep,
performing graceless gymnastics
in the dark, morphing in half-dreams
from a bent stalk of bamboo
to a wounded boa, from a damp towel
to a portion of broken necklace lying in the dirt,
pointing as if by accident underground toward a lost city.
My body seems a gesture of something else.
I am trying to be patient
for whatever it is
While waiting for the heat-death of the universe
I grow delirious.
It simply takes too long,
what becomes incomprehensible
becomes meaningless as well.
I visualize horses running across a field of tall grass.
Before they reach the tree-line they all fall,
as if into a large hole.
Are they my sins piling up,
or being forgiven,
Why am I so fixated on them being
While waiting for the heat-death of the universe
I water the plants. My garden is growing,
almost without me. I eat the tomatoes
and touch the petals of rare flowers
so I might not