...your struggles have made you wisewhen the counsellor tells you your struggles have made you wise......your struggles have made you wise in Free Verse More Like This
ask her how useful the knowledge of how many punches it takes to lay you cold on the floor will be in future. ask her if the endless frost that shivers under your fragile skin is going to turn out handy, a free cooling agent in the heated heights of summer. ask her where she was every morning when you took the pills and crumpled the plastic cup pathetic in your fist. ask her about the taste of toothpaste and bile, how she felt when the dentist marked the progression of decay and solemnly warned you to cut down on sweets. ask her how it feels to keep all those suicides filed away in her desk drawer knowing that they were never ‘wise’ enough to see another way out and through. ask her about the first time she drank until she threw up for hours after she’d become sober again because a boy wouldn’t touch her, or a girl wouldn’t give her a second glance. question everything because there&
diveno matterdive in Free Verse More Like This
when you hit
the water, the lake
an orchestrated litany of lies*an orchestrated litany of lies in Free Verse More Like This
your body is a chirping crocus. [yellow] it grew
in the dark. your mother’s body an elasticated hairtie stretching
to accommodate you
snap your budding head from the depths of sultry earth.
everybody take your seats now
young whippersnappers when the mountain comes through the clouds it will
envy the dead their youth.
confused we wandered two by two
into the ark. this land is stripped clean like a chicken carcass
where no flesh will rot. uncooked corpses charred black
melodic counterpoint. nobody is responsible.
the hedgehog has failed to relax its spines in death.
erebus quietly snivelling
“i am a bear. if you stumble into these woods, bring berries for me.”
April 4- double ethereeApril 4thApril 4- double etheree in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
plump than the last,
mountain ranges like
tomato skin peeling
away from the sun- as if
the none-and-all of residence
between one star and another, this
tired embellished existence, is
worth the echoless cry in the void that
binds me to you like an astronaut’s pale
bungee cord. we are weightless turtles
in space. tomorrow night i will
read the poems you wrote while
i was dying. your
old friends, the bears
slip your words
symptoms of red a materialistsymptoms of red 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
literally, a quesadilla more than you willliterally, a quesadilla in Free Verse More Like This
you smell like
new car, shirt stuck
to skin. laughing:
I wonder what
would happen if we
fucked right here,
just confidently lacing
the space between
planets with electric
the inchoate incarnate it's a perfectthe inchoate incarnate in Free Verse More Like This
night to be
by the militia of
dry like yellow moss
sublime forests will
burn with the charred
quietude of our
beneath a weltering
nothing lies forever & ifnothing lies forever in Free Verse More Like This
it's because I can't
among the grassy ribbons
of your old zeta ego
& if I miss tongue,
teeth and cheeks
let the pavement carve
new mouths into my tights
she writes an another
poem about cigarettes
her east coast
stonemaze sometimes, I pretendstonemaze in Free Verse More Like This
our home is tinnitus
I scrape pine needles
into a horizontal bowl.
settling in like snow
inside my finger
up sparks. he
may be the last
fire fight that bites
through my palms;
may be the last
monolith to collect
I should be left alone
letting the passage of time
sink into the corners
of my eyes
don't trust me unhinged like a stolendon't trust me in Free Verse More Like This
surge of ocean, I become
what your girlfriend thinks I
am: drinking alone, forgetting
your name until it flowers
from my blackberry throat
I wash my tangled
hair in your kitchen sink,
i don't need to sell my soul laughing against frost,i don't need to sell my soul in Free Verse More Like This
stylish arsonists + I still
escaping from your lips
enduring biopoiesis getting over itenduring biopoiesis 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
slippers your ghost eats peanut butterslippers in Free Verse More Like This
out of the jar. an atomic grease
fire tongues our oven like an
if only we walked on clouds
if only we lived in the belly of the ocean
Stay Dreamingyou are pale in the half-light;Stay Dreaming in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
all the fire you carry with you in the waking world is doused in the sweetness of your hair across the pillow & your frame insinuating itself in the sheets, in pockets of weight & pools of shadow that say "i am a body", "i am a girl"
(vulnerable yet terrifying)
& in life you are larger than you seem, thunder & lightning inside colored glass. you are cruel-mouthed but soft-eyed, & brittle queen (you would rather break than bend for me), you are all the lovelier for your frail-boned pride.
it is strange how much i see of you when you are not looking back, how i feel as though it is only in moments like these (in not-quite-daylight, in dreaming) that we are truly at peace. for is it not that our natures may be likened to those of sea & sky? were we not born to crash & storm & shriek & boil against one another? (what is the nature of the place where we meet? for i do not believe in the horizon; blue on blue, it can only be an illusion
God Himself Can't TellLeft wanting for the days when you held everything togetherGod Himself Can't Tell in Free Verse More Like This
Just the damnedest thing; they're ones I barely remember
There was so much living after your life passed us by
Behind infinity, do you judge us with 'em eyes?
I am a broken bird, downwind of free, a messed-up little thing
And you're a vague ocean sprawled beneath my wings
If the sun should condemn me
Would I crash into your salt-sweet memory?
If I'm a wish bone then you're an asthmatic skeleton
This is the story of a Silly who doesn't know if she's your someone
(Never daddy's girl, you're gone)
Dusty tokens of love, count them all
Proud of us now, the way we've turned out?
Sinners, every last one, but we try till we've run into the ground
Oh, how you wouldn't believe us
I wish the numbers would swallow me up
Counting every-other-yester-years till I'm back to all we've missed
Please breathe for this
Booklovernighttime suits us best.Booklover in Free Verse More Like This
to go away into a story,
to fold myself inside your body
comes easier in the dark, when I
am as restless as the river in bed
& to disappear in the breath between
one page & the next
is to share ourselves.
sunflowers.they will see her and they will say,sunflowers. in Free Verse More Like This
"she was loved, but now no longer.
and paper-pressed sunflowers,
she is the vision of a dead summer."
MuseYou'd be outlined heartache, scarlet letter AMuse in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
Slumped posture: (get a backbone) spelled out past days
Angled cheekbones numbered by skies of summer
Stained soul of teenage choice, why not forget her?
Your heart, it would be porcelain afterthought
I'm the atomic bomb to your tinsel box
Pockmarked you never said goodbye, I just won't
Your pulse: a bass drum. Your ribcage: of bird-bone
That gaze: a static halo of symphonies
Hands take, break, a bruising touch of false glory
If I could paint your picture like you've done mine
With words, subtleties; not color, turpentine
Each limb would sigh, I don't want you to see me
Eyes: cinnamon snapshots where I'd never be
My depressingly beautiful, please come clean
Lips: I'll try, but not really, say what you mean
If you were drawn with diction, punctuation
Then all that you would be is an impression
But still your smile would be a world and then some
Full of shallo
If Only It Would Rain.Would you believe me in my convictionIf Only It Would Rain. in Free Verse More Like This
There is no
We've come and swallowed up the blue
The white firmament of our April sky
Is now free
To storm us down.
science and faithcan you imaginescience and faith in Free Verse More Like This
all the booming
and the banging
and the stars
and the Word
and a boy
and a girl
petrodollarthe hill has been butterfliedpetrodollar in Free Verse More Like This
and everything that causes noise speaks
in a foreign language
a radio chokes itself
saying the sound of empty country is snow
the distance between freeways is arrested
as reports about frost come second-hand
(things the soldiers fell like:
trees, leaves, airplanes)
an owl blasts through the mountain,
angels, expatriated from our father’s paradise
do taxes in a public park
Overpasses arc like the rings of a dying planet
Nobody can find work
now kids have taken to demanding
explanations from god
while last night the anarchists
doing their best to imitate the pacific
found only the silence of constant traffic
infrasoundtoday each strange invasion owns our broadcastsinfrasound in Free Verse More Like This
and their wreckage is believing and the arms wrapped in metal
and how we gamble with the breakdowns from people whose absence fills you
like a motel thick with prayer
or a prayer soaked in motel
or the closed revival in clothes on her floor-
the silence last night as my neighbor told me about the accident
told me about his brother-in-law
told me about losing jesus in a peach desert in california.
after the last helium mine is abandoned
all of my research imagines you,
the gulf of this crash poured around the body-
each disaster divided and swollen with wheat
AliensThey have no notion of past or present,Aliens in Free Verse More Like This
everything is about oceans.
When they ask for you
it is really a story about seeing the ocean.
Listen. It is failure of bridges that builds angels.
GROCERY BAGGER/ COLLEGE STUDENT:
Is this the depression
we've all been experiencing?
Please have a seat and forget the edge of that coast,
you were not intended for this distance.
GROCERY BAGGER/ COLLEGE STUDENT:
I believe we're all owed an explanation.
Where is this manifest?
I've never ridden a horse, I am being dreamed about.
You would not believe
the stories redwoods have.
You each get one phone call.
GROCERY BAGGER/ COLLEGE STUDENT:
But the voicemail I've been trying to reach,
"I dream of psychiatrists telling stories
about dreaming of women
they've seen in unedited videos on the internet.
Sometimes they save her from that burning nightclub."
If you're going, leave your voice
somewhere in a room I know.
autoflowerreorganize the bodyautoflower in Free Verse More Like This
my artillery is a hall full of dancers
because to avoid death the ocean divides itself
and divides itself
until she's a shadow full of rooms
or eventually even the acid and the earthquake
But we've imagined this backwards.
the elephant's battered radiation talks all prophets from the building
Upon the stockpile mouths flood dry
and so many cardinals
of that hollow universe
And so what, auction the wind
After, no one will be left to speak
and I laugh because the same parts divide us
For the machine:
I hang these plane crashes from your clotheslines
retrogradein october we harvest but this is a poem and I am a mailbox and the type of stuttering half-winter in my city.retrograde in Scraps More Like This
sometimes i shout the oklahoma radio rust, sometimes invent a dixie-cup field of red space as an argument for displacement v. disappearance- and when i'm lonely your district is peopled and settled by the babbled rivers in the architecture blueglow in writhing continents of jellyfish [which, as metaphors, predate political affiliation and the quaking earth]
And then all oak amplifiers in the mountain suicide, then all photorealized rivers jaundiced paleyellow from a draining sun.
I went out and came home to a fire on the street
I saw a car and a man suspended over the shoulder of the freeway, both motionless
I believe mars was in retrograde as I fucked a girl near a forest.
We harvested the crop, fucked, and then sat apart and alone in the dark,
because this is a poem.
Time Travel for Ex AddictsThe only thing you can take with you is musicTime Travel for Ex Addicts in Free Verse More Like This
And a couple of streets if you have room
Leave the T.V. behind but turned on
You may not bring a watch, digital or otherwise
Nor may you bring the possibility of rain
After dinner get yourself lost
There will be questions. Don't answer any of them
Eventually the voices will start to come together until everything is noise
Next type the name of a young boulevard in the interface
Lie down near that street while it snows and count backwards from 100
You will find yourself in bed but don't worry
it isn't yours
A voice will fall from the sky and say,
Please remain hysterical
in the event of an emergency.
If something goes wrong you will die.
Para Espanol oprima numbero dos.
There are no other options
Fight sleep, it's a poor substitute for making planetfall
When you close your eyes you will see light
And it will remind you of traffic
You have to think about a song now
Any song will do
named after women
When you see a fe
petrolshinedream was the black water or the aircraft.petrolshine in Free Verse More Like This
rainbow crowds fill lungs the streets wet and retransmit some radiant sky.
i feel the slow flowering that finds the body buildings
razed to a pale lake.
today it's fuck those who sleep.
today it's the head, the waves, the noise you leave behind.
consensus is that one may exit the wreck but the wreck never exits them.
it's pounding the ocean an army of balconies devour that foreign flicker-
becomes that which concerns the time it takes light to undress the burning pine trees,
the red and blue stars condensed to an aching and distant cloud.
in this scenario you are the inevitability of collision between wandering bodies
now i think what you were trying to tell me is that my house is abandoned and will be forever decorated in ghosts.
dear blue, who is the house and who the ghost?
or was it that it becomes a valley of settled radio contact?
an arrested and unreceived river?
i could build a religion out of the things i say to you,
florenciashe believes again that possession is a kind of miracleflorencia 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
ContingencyThe survival plan was contingent on blues,Contingency in Free Verse More Like This
after the subway is bombed and the pigeons settle like grief
Sometimes we communicate in diseases sometimes
the angels that haunt the space between factories
exchanging all the promised inertia for flowers
that bloom and die instantaneously
And after the country would appear as people
stumbled upon the shore in language and crowds of telephone wires
And then the protocol says
everything is bad weather in this fall-
the endoskeletons of factories are crawling through the fog,
as our horses
quietly return to the ocean.
emails to and from a friendthe weakness of their faith is that it becomes baffled by the occurrence of mountainsemails to and from a friend in Free Verse More Like This
believe me, i've loved you once
[to articulate the fall of airplanes]
pain is your voice leaving the body
we aren't going to make it
they left our bodies on the street
I didn't know you know how to smoke
things go wrong, i suppose,
things will go wrong
no one talks about you
it's like this, i guess
it's like all those songs you loved
that I can't seem to remember anymore
consider the detriments of freedom
you write to people that don't exist
i'm so sorry
i can't find your exit
you haven't called in so long they updated the memorial
to include a photo of a bird
it's like this everywhere i go
Objects will grown in their affections for other objects.
I'm so sorry I can't find your exit.
"The entanglements of atomic structures preexist San Diego;
you can believe everything all at on
You can have your poem now.yearning:You can have your poem now. in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
an intense feeling of longing
for something that may have never existed
despite our soaked physical evidence
strewn across the bathroom floor
beside our limbs and your vomit,
a retching twitch in your gut,
"and let it be known that men
are more sexually possessive in their thoughts
often leading them to the belief
that after pilfering through the slough
they are owed a perfect human being
fashioned from the schematics written on their rib or
pulled over the shape of adam's incomplete skeleton,
lusting for happiness
and an easy way to keep it because
that first fuck was just so good,"
though honestly, i don't remember meeting you,
your persistence a golden shadow in the hallway
where you looked at me from six stairs above:
hands hanging at your sides,
the noise of a crowd below the grating,
a hole in your left shoulder,
hair dark and frizzy,
eyes greener beside your red-burst whites,
nose pointed to ask
if i had ever done acid and if
i wanted to try it, "free of
I have your number, SeabirdHis bathroom is small and bleak. The mirrorI have your number, Seabird in Free Verse More Like This
shows your reflection in seven colors which
haven't been named on the red-blue-yellow
spectrum. Your eyes are shaking like eggs
and he hasn't said your name in a year. You
think of everything he calls you: Jay, Jaybird,
Rose if he's playful. He told you particles of
every man he's slept with are in the carpet
when he pulled your head back to look into
your pupils. Your eyes are black. They run,
raw and rotten from fluorescence overhead.
He told you the shrooms weren't the same.
If you don't like LSD, you might feel better
trying something more natural. It grows
like marijuana: from the ground. But so does
every poison you can think of. You're natural,
bare with shades you can't begin to fathom.
Something like sulfur is in your nostrils. You
touch the furry rug and think of Vishnu. He
has so many arms to carry you. Jesus only has
two. The church was broad and heavy. It sleeps
in Chicago, beside a park that smells like piss.
He opens the door,
Big EyesI was reared toward codependenceBig Eyes in Free Verse More Like This
on the jutting hip of a woman
who couldn't speak English,
on the thrush tongue of a man
who couldn't hold his liquor
and remarried to a gringa,
a sympathy puker. Ammonia
paled the hair in my nostrils,
kneeling on the third stair,
plucking the big chunks up
with a napkin. I gagged,
relapsed into the role
which wrote my schemes
of intellectualization: crushing
and cutting thin lines of diseases,
inhaling the belonging
inherent to helping a drunk
up to his bedroom. It wasn't until
I walked through the aisles
of a buzzing corporate womb,
reading the recipes for diet soda
and composite fences, that I
was birthed to an understanding
that empathy isn't weakness
if you can learn to distinguish
right from wrong, heroin from china,
selfishness from self-preservation.
Mirsad,i. sadness is the most euphoric thing i've feltMirsad, in Free Verse More Like This
You were high all through September
and would come around the house
I was staying at. No one else
tolerated your bullshit, not after taking
Griffin's Xanax: a whole night spent
with your head in the toilet and irises
trembling in their whites. You were talking
about a girl we both knew,
who just graduated high school,
had a bad three day trip after some guy
sold her shitty acid and gave her free tabs,
let her take them in his backyard.
“Her boyfriend picked her up,”
you explained. You were on your third
cigarette, though you’d confided in me
you found the taste repulsive and
dry. “He took her home and while
she was lying on the bed, she lost bladder control,
and when he left and came back to the room
there was piss soaked through her jeans,
the sheets, everything. She’s still tweaking,
but I saw her and she seemed okay.
I mean, she’s not very stable.”
You stood up on Lane's bed
and ran your hands
Tuesday's PrayerGod forgive me; I've been mistaking good sex and better marijuana for spiritual enlightenment again.Tuesday's Prayer in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Everything is CautiousThe most exhausting peopleEverything is Cautious in Free Verse More Like This
are extroverted and clingy. They
drain what little tolerance
I have for trivial problems. But Valerie
always called me in the morning,
when I was too foggy from an early
attack of sleep paralysis: a shadowed man
with a filmy complexion sat
at the foot of my bed and vibrated
atomic handholds. She bustled between
snide comments while I tried
to smother my nerves and fall asleep
in tanto discrimineI want to take a train back down to the city,in tanto discrimine in Free Verse More Like This
for the sights I can't recall to image. My friends who like to stare
at billboard advertisements and signs in red and white which read:
apartments for rent. great views of the lake. brand new appliances.
will take me through a few parks and beaches by the white hotels
with a thousand golden windows.
Maybe next Saturday, before October's past us,
we'll rent a room with stainless faucets and carbonated water
in green glass bottles. We'll pry open the wide bathroom windows
and blow smoke into a bluster. We'll skate to Navy Pier on black ice,
then glide with yellow lights across an evolving fractal,
in the split wake of a whale or speedboat:
and like velvet,
and like water,
But it remains the same: I see Chinatown when Lindsay vomits,
steaming plates of vegetables and staggered brickwork,
a clot of tired eyes and skin.
The Weather LatelyWhen I tilt my glass up,The Weather Lately in Free Verse More Like This
dregs of iced tea powder
become an orange starscape,
an eclipse pecked with holes:
summer, full and searing.
a streetcar to nowherei.a streetcar to nowhere in Free Verse More Like This
he must crack
when his hands are tulle:
rough and tearing,
bought by the yard
or cent-marked minute,
spin a skirt
that won't last a winter,
and snort ballerinas,
hope he's flexible
thin and shimmering,
don't stay another minute,
clear the aisles to say
so he must crack
when his hands are tulle:
by a craving spark
crisp and burning,
thin black ash
like your real name or
just something i can call you,
something that won't make me
feel like i'm talking down
to you. not because
i respect you, i never—
no i don't think i
respect you, but
something soft like i can
pretend i'm decent,
or normal maybe, don't
look at me, i didn't pay to—
where are you going after this?
and maybe i won't laugh."
Casual Bullshituncreative blasphemyCasual Bullshit in Free Verse More Like This
is sometimes mistaken for high art
in unprovoked conversations
"God isn't here,
at least not as the spectre
so i've decided His absence
with a metaphor to hide my fear
speaking in a rash persona
with a new faith
Captain Eo fanfic.-Ch. 3Captain Eo fanfic.-Ch. 3 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Sometimes you just have to laugh at life's little setbacks. Like, tripping up the stairs, or, accidentally spilling a sticky soft drink on your love interest at the movie theater.
For example, being apprenticed to an airhead human captain who makes a fool out of you and all that you've worked for your entire life, AND- oh yeah, pilots a ship that looks like a tin can with wings. Its not like I was expecting a first class Spaceracer with a glossy gold finish, but I mean, really, the thing looked like something the Millennium Falcon threw up. The sad little hunk of metal sat in the far corner of the hangar where our squad's fleet was kept, and after what seemed like an eternity of silent walking, we came to a stop in front of it.
"Well, this is home." said Eo, patting the wall of his ship. I stared off in a disinterested manner, refraining myself from responding. (Being stubborn has always been one of my many talents) Eo sighed and grabbed a k
Captain EO fanfic.-Ch. 2Captain EO fanfic.-Ch. 2 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
~**EO's Point of View**~
I sprinted around another corner as fast as my feet could carry me. The Initiation ceremony had started 5 minutes ago, and I was probably the only Captain not there yet. I kept glancing down at my watch; as if looking at it would make the hands turn backwards. Time has no mercy.
It wasn't entirely my fault. Captains were supposed to show up in uniform, but Hooter ate my last vest and I had to go get a new one from the dry cleaners at the last minute. I clenched my fists as I ran. Doggon'it Hooter! I thought, If I get demoted because of this......-
Not paying attention, I ran head-on into another Cor pilot walking in the opposite direction, sending us both flying onto the cold metal floor of the busy corridor. Bystanding military personnel stopped and stared at the mess, but no one attempted to help. After exchanging odd glances and whispering cynical remarks to one another, they would just continue walking without saying a word. I stoo
Captain Eo fanfic.-Ch. 5Captain Eo fanfic.-Ch. 5 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"For the last time, I am not going to dismiss Ryder from this team!"
My crew groaned, determined to have me decide otherwise.
"But she nearly got you killed Captain!" Idey persisted.
"She nearly got all of us killed." Hooter corrected. My hands sifted nervously through my hair as I paced about the parlor, trying to think up a response. Major Domo clicked quietly in the corner, and I looked to him for some sort of support. Come on Major, you always know what to say, help me out!
As if hearing my internal plea, the old robot sat up, humming slightly before giving his input:
"I'm not usually one to argue with your decisions, Captain.." He paused. His robotic brow furrowed and he dropped his gaze, "...But I sincerely think that we would be better off sending Ryder back to the University. You could always get a new apprentice assigned to you next year..."
"Yeah! Send her back to the University; make
Captain Eo fanfic.-Ch. 4Captain Eo fanfic.-Ch. 4 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
When I woke up the next morning, I was under the delusion that I would be back at the University-That Jaelene would be standing in the doorway waiting for me and I would hurry after her to our first set of classes-That everything would be back to normal. Unfortunately this was not the case. My nostalgic imagination was shattered by the cold, stale air which woke me from a dreamless sleep. I rolled to the side of the bed and groggily looked around at the closet-sized room I now called home. Since there was no morning, evening, or night in space, it was necessary to train your brain to be precociously aware of time. It was very easy to oversleep, or rather, to forget to sleep at all, but it was expected of all associates of the Cor to be above such rookie mistakes. I was always on time when it came to sleep hours-But, I was also a girl, and if I felt like spending an extra two hours in the bathroom deciding whether I
Captain EO fanfic- Ch. 1Captain EO fanfic- Ch. 1 in Romance More Like This
My heart thudded with excitement as my starship rattled violently. Hit again? This was gonna get dangerous...just the way I liked it. Red lights were flashing around me and the computer repeated the same monotone warning over and over again through the loudspeaker. "Warning, enemy spacecraft in range, Warning...." My crew was already on it, aiming the turrets at the enemy craft. My Co-Pilot came up behind me and cleared his throat, saluting before speaking to me-
"Do you want us to turn on the shields Captain Ryder?" I shook my head and smiled confidently.
"No, we're gonna make it." He frowned and inquired again-
"Are you sure Miss Ryder? The enemy is right on top of us!" I took hold of the control stick and leaned back in the Pilot's seat.
"Cool it, I know what I'm doing. No need to get hyped up over nothing." I laughed and pulled up on the controller violently, sending us into a back flip o
ZemiThings having to be returned to their transparency:Zemi in Free Verse More Like This
/ green mist-earth / knit
atmosphere / fathomless
blue-lavender / lights
spun out from light
are recalcitrance / and you
& - a fingernail of summer
- a melting of rain
- a crown of flowers
- a priest of sunsets
(beautiful? I love you, because. Zemi.
Zemi. are you beautiful because I love
you? Zemi? )
I imagine this is what it's like to breathe sea foam
over the Cliffs of Moher: hydration. absolution.
To Rilke, it's a melody that floods over us
when we have forgotten how to listen for it.
I never could forget this: for how could I know
my hand as both well and chasm? and how could I know
time, a windstruck dimension, standing in her white street?
We go on morning walks and Zemi
laughs at everything I say.
ConfluenceAccording to the old religion, a scribeConfluence in Free Verse More Like This
must bathe in natural running water
before she draws what is dictated to her,
because writing's just like cleaning a mirror,
she says, it's like rearranging stains
left on wholesome rivers. For three nights,
I drew geometric shapes in the margins;
I had been instructed to take notes on
the underside of snow, and how it colonized
the lithosphere, musically and without hurt.
It felt like a call, but it wasn't a calling.
The paper was made in Himalayan foothills
by a woman who had cleansed knots from fibrous bark
and dipped her bleached hands into boiling water.
I mangled the page into a cottage, then a castle;
for I imagine that the grime of Dublin
could fold me up into my questions. But to give
creative attention is always an act of love,
and the most sincere. You have always known that
only at the fringes of the intellect
can love become voice. So may
it all be fringes and love
its nonexistence, but not yet, not yet.
a poem about driving in pennsylvaniaI'm driving west and at the state line all I can seea poem about driving in pennsylvania in Free Verse More Like This
are canvases of steaming light waiting to be painted
in the brushstroke forest that lies like a crescendo
across the reservoir where the grass washes over our ankles
and my eyes will never open so wide again.
June 12th had all the markings of a fine poem:
thick music scattering lights to the night city
reflecting in the same warm cadence of breezes
and your head resting on my bony shoulder.
You asked me with such sweetness if you could read my poems,
but please don't leave me with my love, with the cats
spilling out of your arms into the contaminated water
of taking in the divine ecstasy of just existing.
I want you to be so happy that when I swear to protect
your solitude, you will promise to escape for me,
to tear off the anxious rivulets that keep us netted
in the seasons as they appear in the Hudson Valley:
three sadistic ellipses promising comfort with the turn
of the next gentle equinox and rattled atmosphere
and my eyes are di
Lucidityi.Lucidity in Free Verse More Like This
I am a natural lucid dreamer. When I was sick,
I dreamed away whole strings of days that burst
with causal power, as if the sun, shining past
my silted eyelids, had spilled a home behind them.
You watched how well I played that girl:
high heels, sparkle eyes,
sitting on his work desk with my lips curled,
legs crossed, booze at needle length
beneath my skin expelling floral tones,
I pretended to fall asleep on top of his blankets
so I had access to my concave nest,
a place without his hands on my stomach, no,
and without his mouth on my shoulder.
Now I am not even here
and he doesn't know, not at all.
My respectability besieged
the rest of me when I believed
in being respectable, for,
like a miasma of red night,
pulling up sleep in orange-tasting sinews,
you were born from a nautilus shell
to ensnare the thirst of laughing.
Had you been tossed so far beyond yourself during the night
that you woke up aware that you think about eternity
because it's manifes
What angels inventedi.What angels invented in Free Verse More Like This
The ocean of air above
you swells with voices
deathless skippers leaving
dust of meteorites
in gusty mind-
but you, an airborne antigen
You trammel inspiration
off the tallest waters. The poems
you could have written
I go on and they go too,
skating away on pitchey ink
The ocean of water beneath
my trembling fingers your hand
closes over them so clasping
so out of breath and quiet
skin which I am carrying
on top of my skin paints
the blush of every flower
in your state opening up
to spring at once
you can put your twangy spin on stars
(but you can't keep me off alone)
The firmament of earth between
us — automatic: I write us
like the cosmos happens
dually — miniscule,
the firmament last
time you held that stare I could
have built castles on
(the way you looked
at me, astronomically)
World of floods.World of floods in Free Verse More Like This
Driving on the curb cured of swamplands and horizontals
my atmosphere dear takes wholesome bites of water
outed are the undersides of bridge smudged chasms
birdy hellcalls and undone song
he knows only fire pursues the winged
torn letters three years gone of the antediluvian
disintegrated into charm and clarity and the promise
of a moment in time that springs everlastingly
will be flooded
and the pulmonary one ways dripping varied shades of moving cars
in fresh killed greys keeping time with the hacks of self against love
while our hands are crossed in universes pleading
with the dying that cannot slow down but winds and winds around
the pulsed city of language tying the sacred grammar to plurals
another and another
until they grow into the flicking tongue that time will harness
to toss rogue prophets into the pockets of New Jersey
where in being shelved we meet among starships
will be flooded
and the candles that when burning exhale signatures into the air
evolution poembut I believe to seek unbecomingevolution poem in Free Verse More Like This
is more cultivated than stretching
out the leaky fibers of a semi-
circular self-image until they
spiral into uncontrollable
forests, cauterizing eyelids;
like picking bones out
of a salmon's chest.
The swerveI tore my flesh on the corner of the lake & bled in cubesThe swerve in Free Verse More Like This
and my best friend knew the weight of my green eyes and tried to sell them
and the spring left me heavy in my skin and the air she breathed me
tasted of umami and B12 and water. I drank it all in just like water
and began the aviary process of collecting budding groves and early springs.
you came to me with eyes like empty jars begging for sparks
and the hundred scraps of paper of pretty lies in pretty cursives,
the firefly wings and peonies and ocean salts and river rocks
and you were the first one capable of rustling the dead leaves
at the creek floor, so those went in, too. adding pensive things
to your eyes until they flooded over. they keep flowing
You were beside me trembling at being essential
and I could barely contain my laughter
from spilling into the air of the auroral forest
and getting caught naked in the mountains
The first time I didn't mean it to tear
through your skull and plant flowers
and you were beside me
Someone else's scripture.Someone else's scripture in Free Verse More Like This
The books of the earth:
New, Quarter, Harvest.
Half, Full, Crescent.
"Spill your oils,"
the water says
to the moon.
How does the myth go,
who was the hero
that threw the word for
into the dark center of the lake?
What has life been
"Can anybody stay longer?"
the stars beg.
The cello eases its pheromones
over the smell of your lips.
I say, "You are my favorite countryside.
The color of your hair drifts through the trees."
You smile with the scent of warm dirt
on your breath.
I grasp doorknobs
as if I were underwater,
I turn pages
as if there were blood between my fingers.
The lamplight sunsets halfway across the open book,
my palms muffle the title.
My heartbeat evens to a horizon.
My hair dozes gently.
The hour will unpurse in the spaces between action
and vanishing point.
The hour will flash between
the horse's legs.
The hour will grieve behind a sheet of rain.
The hour will thunder with the downswing of comets.
The hour will vanish into someone
Non-moonA landscape opensNon-moon in Free Verse More Like This
Celsius, evening, sutro.
The waves open,
as the myth goes,
The confusion between urges
appears in the half-seen movements of fish--
the gleam of coins that are alive,
the necklaces of phosphenes
always dancing at the edge of my vision.
I watch for them, trying to reverse
how I keep valuing all the wrong things.
Meanwhile, pre-dawn suggests
that the promise of music
( ) The peninsula made island
by storm, turned metaphysical
by old video games into black sky,
( ) In folklore, some dark thing which dances
at the edge of the trees
and sings in the falsetto
of your ears ringing.
() A clean, white pixel
that drifts gently into space
jettisoned from a healthy planet.
* The panoply of dark flowers
. My body, as a notion,
lies in the vagueness
Rigamarole and deaf old man as the world.Everyone in rangeRigamarole and deaf old man as the world. in Free Verse More Like This
of my singing when I was young,
those who saw me
stooping to touch the pavement
as if it were possibly running
the tilt of the earth
makes all my flowers
As a boy,
sat in his backyard,
and making delicate piles
that he would usher black ants into,
then set on fire
with a kitchen match.
would make me
on the back of my hands
Green and red
harbor the low roofs,
brush the chimneys
as if they were me.
I think about wars
as pouts of fire
around the compass
that we can agree on.
to distend the molecule.
for a dry
portion of land.
all that dances,
the bone i broke,
the missing hatchlings
from the nest outside
The trees are as wordless
as the inside of a kiln
Far enoughThe easternmost corner of your name,Far enough in Free Verse More Like This
a bird lighting on a branch.
Water breaks and mends
hours on the sand that is
numb as wool, unpainted
as the ashes of what was once barn.
Despite the algebra
of moving forward
I am trying to remind myself
I look at the sky and think
The planets are real,
if I just went far enough.
The world consists of countlessness.
Of materials and the tasks it takes
to reach one from another.
The seagulls fly over the water.
Have you ever wept
and not known why?
The birds all blur together.
Grace is useless.
But the planets exist
and I am here too
The Small Book of Rewardsi. Tall FlowersThe Small Book of Rewards in Free Verse More Like This
'Throw your shadow,' they sign.
'The clouds are coming
to throw theirs.'
Acorns are shaken off the trees,
the city fills with weddings.
Like a pain inside the mouth,
bells clamor across the river.
There are tall, orange flowers in the park
throwing psychic vibes.
It's the way they tremble,
the way they touch your shins with the small green leaves
of their stems
while looking the other way.
I walk past thinking
instead of the smell of rain.
The orange flowers shake their heads
but say nothing.
I pause awkwardly to smell one,
then pull my camera covertly to my chest
and snap a photo.
Later I will see
I missed the flowers,
cut the cups off their stems.
I will shake my head.
The movement will summon the smell
of the orange flowers--
'Death,' it will telepathize,
'is only when everything really is
ii. The Small Book of Rewards
The sizes of the planets
hang off the vine.
It takes courage
to walk in this kind of univer
cobblestones.cobblestones in Free Verse More Like This
i pulled a napkin from the silver tin,
wiped the table clear, drops of ketchup staining the center.
i crushed the paper in my palm, felt the dampness reach the edges.
hurt cloud, she said as i let it roll across the table.
shooting baskets as the day ended,
the ball went over the backboard, disappeared into the dark.
she shrugged, then bent low, picked up pebbles.
your poor hands, she said. you have so many scars,
and you're still so young. (she, younger than i, saying this)
she touched one hand, then after a pause she took the other
without looking at me.
some things take so much courage.
we sat like that for a long time,
i passed two old women by the river.
one stopped, pulled off her shoe
and shook a pebble out.
it dropped into the water
and she continued on,
from the absence dented into her foot.
the other had stopped a ways ahead.
she waited and said, a pebble?
the woman nodded. her whole life
While waiting for the heat-death of the universeWhile waiting for the heat-death of the universeWhile waiting for the heat-death of the universe 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
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 be left out,
Eating Candyi. FatherEating Candy in Free Verse More Like This
A man putting on gloves
works his jaw around
as if juggling candy on his tongue
or swilling wine.
He walks up the street
looking down at his shoes
the way brides have
of descending church steps.
Which is just a way of saying,
"Too much comes between us."
Planets flash their colors.
Venus flickers dimly in late morning,
someone prays to it
in the same way they might plead with their car
as it runs out of gas.
As a boy, I was once chased down the road
by a large husky.
I reached a house and pounded on the door
but nobody was there.
The dog sank its teeth
into my leg.
I screamed and it let go,
its teeth flashing red.
It trotted up the road,
Now, my blood-cells hold their breath
when passing the broken skin on a knuckle,
when stepping over a nick on my face from shaving--
in the same way I have
of walking to the far side of the road
iii. Eating Candy
A hard red candy
seven hours of who you might have beeni.seven hours of who you might have been in Free Verse More Like This
the breath you took
the moment you fell
lies in the dirt somewhere
between the garden
and the dip of empty earth
where rain pools.
all the lost things of your life
keep gathering in cottony patches overhead
that only the flowers
you have touched
years vine out.
between thumb and forefinger,
the clumsiness of
more than just one
on Judgment Day
your tomato plants
will come out of the earth
carrying your bravery
like beads of water,
they will gesture
with their leaves
magnificent and half-drunk
you left the house
to stand in the historic thunderstorm
the neighborhood dogs,
the ants of
the trees lining the water
and the green in the air,
and the distance
between syllables of river-water
replace the vanishing point
in all your
with the divine.
how many words
you could form
out of your name,
and how often
your hour in the sun
was all that mattered
lemonwe walk down the streetslemon in Free Verse More Like This
of a city named after the last thousand years.
a breeze floats by
and for a moment your hair lifts off your shoulder.
the way it doesn't touch you,
i want to touch you.
there are traces of lemon in your light,
a vague sense of mint on your fingertips.
the way honey tastes
drifts inside your shirt.
entering the city
walking calmly while the light falls
is like listening to your voice,
like waiting at the bell by the river
for a clamoring to do justice
to the patterns on the water.
the way the bells never end
i want to brush my hand against yours.
the way you drop lemon into your water
i want to live.
Of Journeys, UndreamtI swallowed red etch on blackwall,Of Journeys, Undreamt in Free Verse More Like This
stuttered stops and full-moon strophes
between breaths. I never knew in studying
an angel, drowned Andromeda, accursed
beauty (bound for sacrifice)
that I would bleed a misfit
canvas smeared uncolorful dry drawn breathless
ever under water endless
There are galaxies to rent,
galaxies to visit. And those
so beautiful as not to be imagined
distant clouds gathered on the fingertips
they might split you at the nucleus
and smile at what they've made.
Portrait of an UnderachieverHe sorts conversationsPortrait of an Underachiever in Free Verse More Like This
autobiographically, picking passages
that best brandish his full-figured ego
and leaving out the details.
He'll probably grow up
and have a wine cellar full of bullshit
vintages and other frivolities-
he uses words like frivolities.
He is alliterative, makes allusions
in ordinary conversation
and never orders off the menu- except
when it's in French or Latin or
And his life is full of empty moments
when he should have been doing big things.
The River RamblesWe cut each other halflong (simpleThe River Rambles in Free Verse More Like This
cell division) to find answers;
nothing spills out and nothing
floods in and nothing
It is a bleak burden, this
stargazer syndrome, near-sighted symphonic
strangers sipping endless streams of data
exchanging bits and bytes in and of the void.
Dark chasmal pockets
full of doubt, full of fever and strife;
we odds and end-less ebbs flow
back to the sea
as we are teased by landfall.
Plato, On Madnessi. We had to knowPlato, On Madness in Free Verse More Like This
there were objects
in the dark-water murk
and one would tear us
but we sailed
with the horizon on our shoulders
and a breath of salt.
ii. They found me,
and tongue-twisted, with twinflowers
growing at the crash site;
I came to rest
on the island Atlantis,
amidst frozen ghosts
speaking in hieroglyph and tracing
star-maps in the carbon
of my skin.
iii. Just before the end
there were no cries,
only a whisper:
Inside the SingularityI am imperfect ions, simpleInside the Singularity in Free Verse More Like This
unable to solve such complex problems
as flaws of brevity and
a failure of chemistry to explain
the de-evolution of our youth.
You can feel it in the protozoa
growing on the rim: anaerobic winter
tearing right through the center
Whole cities immolated
to fuel the rogue star, the world-eater,
as it devours dream after dream
until the day you die.
And then the mind is quiet, still;
Disembarkthe diver kept a message in his lungsDisembark in Free Verse More Like This
I won't lay my bluster on the doorstep
of a windstruck tomorrow, one
without the promise of nomadic hands
weaving passwords in my skin and taking
every inch of memory
to heart. I say the sun is just
a stranger, an overseer;
you wear those vacant eyes
and count coins in the lakebed,
dreaming of the weight of oceans.
down in the deepest part
Some days are unfocused, you
blend into the foreground like a lighthouse
embedded in the fog. Adrift,
I keep tugging at the anchor
but it won't release.
where the water couldn't reach.
Lies, Of A(n In)different KindDear half-past-midnight girl,Lies, Of A(n In)different Kind in Free Verse More Like This
you’ve been swallowed up in space junk,
notions of welfare; notions
He was in his cups, drunkblind
when he wrote honey on your skin
and smiled through open vessels
in splendor, dreamlike
something that wasn't lifeI could fold you into origami stars;something that wasn't life in Free Verse More Like This
draining out the you, rin-tin veins spiking
on interstate tragedies.
There aren't pills for what I have.
Lo-fi radio disease, overactive
social imagination anxieties and limbs often unattached
to any corpus. But, hey
time heals all wounds, they say.
Still I wonder if the weight of all our indiscretions
might have tilted us off axis, and we're teetering dangerously
on the edge of some double-pulsar implosion
about to be swallowed in a gamma-ray-incinerator
we'd never see it coming, anyway. But somewhere, someday
strangers in a distant telescopic timegaze would see pieces of us scattered
into pixels and pixels and pixels
or maybe not. Maybe we are all there ever was.
7.4.11Disco-quiet, jangling and spry,7.4.11 in Free Verse More Like This
she crept up like an onion
and ate craters from my mouth.
Her eyes were vodka-bloom,
flower-shaped fireworks reflected
in an ocean
and she couldn't remember which side
of the street was hers.
Hungry lips set on her
with all the subtleties of youth,
but they couldn't recover
what was lost.
Malignantdark dealer of dark things, You areMalignant in Free Verse More Like This
a hipster darling, darling dwelling
in you: black mold morose with
a side of sadism (drowning the romantic
Lenore [was just a name] between your taut lips
drawn) to eat the apple of the world and leave
only seeds. Some taste the arsenic prefix
of your tongue; seep poison out of sores,
cry their nevermores. i prefer the lick
and not the bite, love rattles to death
rattles and simple sex
to the asphyxia-phyllic monoculture
you created- yes You, in your guttural
gutter ballads dreamt and adorned
with shadows on the floor. Nevermore
shall i sit twisted and remiss (a huddled
and contemptuous visage) contemplating
existence an anomalous construct; condemn
others with my self important wit (my
slew of swill-fueled slanderous revue)
a self-appointed author of True and mighty-
who's still crying for You
? Not Lenore.
i am one life; Alive abrubtly so
swollen to the cheeks with it. An inquisitive
imperfect view what can be g