virginity is like an envelopemy mother said her mother knew.virginity is like an envelope2 years 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.
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
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
they can't be takentheir bleach skin caught my eyethey can't be taken3 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
my father has started to take pictures.my father has startedmy father has started to take pictures.2 years 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.
The Farmers SonWe sat sipping grappa as the storm clouds rolled in from the ridgesThe Farmers Son3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the smoke from some great unseen inferno,
the wood walls and shingles of the house complained to us
in low groans,
of the wind coming up hard, through the valley,
and there was flickering light from a candle,
and she told me how light from a prism dissects into different colours that correspond
in some way to our bodies and that all of life was a rhythm
and I believed that part,
and I believed there were stars beyond the sight of man on any grey day
and that they might hold some greater secret than prisms or rhythms
or any question a farmers son could ever mutter,
and the wind slowed to a stillness
and the rain moved in and our voices gave way
to what my Father would call The Lords Music,
the pitter-patter of water
on the dry and flaking earth.
honey, we're a couple wars spenti met a girl oncehoney, we're a couple wars spent3 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.
the less i knowsomething new: my breath hitched but the words meant nothing.the less i know3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i owed the light peserverent flattery in the form of prose,
stories of what could have been.
the gloom in which i slept was a system altogether unable to measure up to the new universe;
to exist together in perfect cognition is first to understand that i never wish to be better.
how pitiable this impure form to which we all succumb
littered with stars. i am temporary like them, almost, always and never.
I have forgotten how to live. it is late mornings during which i upturn my lazy eyes to the sky
against it's will. there, like you, live millions- and my mind is reborn.
the day comes. easily her gentle beckoning fills our minds. the sky is golden-blue:
unmasterable. we retract our wicked claws and our majestic selves
are now only threats we cannot perceive.
we lie nestled like tired humans together in the cold grass, and the blades are shining
wet with the tears of the dawn. we're late. we're forgotten
you touch the e
Why I Can't Love a PoetHe said you're beautiful likeWhy I Can't Love a Poet2 years 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.
In stillness1. My bones are rocks, curved and exfoliated and shapedIn stillness2 years 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.
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
To Him, With Loveintimacy is airing outTo Him, With Love2 years 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.
Seagazingeres:Seagazing4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
warm champagne for my insides
vos me caes
Autumn's daylight sliding down my throat-
seeping in through the holes in my skin until my kidneys glow
waves-like-wings to carry me cos
i've dreamt of soaring this underworld
with heavy limbs &
f o u r in-this-moment eyes,
keeping "Far" far away
Let's don't quite recall the deep breaths we took, only why we took them.
Notes on nightCupped hands could holdNotes on night5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a moth's night,
a moon waning somewhere between
middle and index.
the cuddling craters,
would become the flight.
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.
corners and paintswatches.i loved you in a way that was engulfing for my young heart. for someonecorners and paintswatches.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
still small enough to fit all limbs and troubles into the bath tub with ease.
i remember that was how i thought of it the other night when i tried for the
first time in years to soak and wash this feeling away with warm water and
bubbles. but i didn't cackle with a bubble beard, and it left my fingers wrinkled
and feeling my age something severe.
you've been hiding around corners all week. i was flicking through my dvd
collection, procrastinating, or lost in what was the last thing to be moved back
into my room after i finally gave up with the blue and how i admitted i couldn't
stand another night surrounded by walls that we'd painted together.
i choked on the crow. and remembered you thought that if you took my last name,
you'd inherit his skills and you'd be able to stop anything from hurting me ever again.
but you're still in the parts of me that i thought i could live without.
i gave you my elbows, my shoulders
we were found beneath the seai've been meaning to tell youwe were found beneath the sea2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(i swear i have)
i'm hopelessly addicted to throwing
messages in bottles
and losing them
the milky way.
i had once thrown them across the mid-
-length of seas
but then you would
and leave them,
much like the nights you found
rhythm in my
i found your messages
(i swear i have)
i'm tired of shooting seagulls
and watch them fly
the milky way.
i had once chased them shouting mid-
-length of the sea
but then you would
write a letter,
throw it to me,
and windowsill sit,
much like the night you found
poetry on my
and then i found verses
(i swear i didn't mean to)
i thought you stopped
yelling metaphors to keep me
i just thought you'd
stop painting your dreams
on my salty
i wrote fabricated honesty
(i swear i didn't mean to)
i wanted to whisp
AcquittalWon't you leave me? I will love youAcquittal2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
more than if you stay, transfixed
to the point of reference, our bodies
melding a sad, soft sublime, the back
spine of a little universe blown out
like a crafter's hot glass, the growing
moment, the wonder, the expansion
before a chill.
JulyJuly was a month of a capella nights,July3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Red heliotrope scores and blanched
A singing of nerves hewn to a cry:
Fine-tuned and skinned
To carpal ascension,
The quivers of a quaver
Due to crescendo.
I hovered, wing-like, on the husk
Of schizocarp dreams,
But sprang forth undone
By chorus and synchrony.
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
you sleep and i think of homethe light is lime-washed gold overyou sleep and i think of home2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your heavy insignificance in sleep. help me. i
am already in love with the door to your room,
its closing: rising pocket of seattle air marked
with the outward sweeping of our limbs, over
and dark until i cradle your dreams
in cupped hands. watch.
this house will turn beneath us and someday
we will be welcome, low night beckoning
from these wet streets. it will know our skin
slow and stretching toward the rooftops--
sleep steamed with forgetting,
a truce of stars.