I am not mad but furious a washing machine filled with poison bleach and dirty, filthy secrets who was told to wash them all a  w  a  y then left to froth and swirl like a whirlwind of rage like the gambit you too often rely on when you desire to leave with your soaked linen to dry it on that white clothesline pressed against the starch sun and pay no regard to the fact that I am left in the dark f  o   r   g    o    t     t      e     &#

I stole May and gave it back to him who lost it in brother June when she slipped into silence and I could not wake her up; I was worshiped as a hero: champion of winter; a Robin Hood of Robins gone that lost themselves among December I stole November's harvest under the harvest moon and cut from the stars my traveler's cloth with which I meant to warm the womb; I knew I could not wake her up and that her core was cold; I brought with me this tapered swath with intent to keep her hold

I cannot hear you over the mother's screaming, within my head I cannot hear you over the children screaming for my head I cannot hear you over the fathers' screaming, without my head Over the flames and the fear I cannot see or hear Oh where have you gone Where is it you oft do leave me

I faced myself to throw a punch And from how I shuddered I thought I might've cracked my resolve But my hand just came away bloody

It was an early morning in June when I sat down and I looked confused. Brows furrowed lips pursed, I meditated on what exactly I needed to do. There had to be a roof, probably somewhere in town, that fit the hight I needed, that was at least fifteen stories down. Shouldn't have been too hard, the city was big, said so on the post-cards old man Rider had sold before he'd kicked the bucket back in May. I thought about the fact that I'd left my paper at home, in a drawer where no one would find it for years to come. But then who the hell had I thought would read the simple "it's not your fault" I had scrawled across the page with careful, measu

Everything's just as you left it, because you said we'd be together forever: when you come back you won't be displaced; I know you intend to make good. But I wonder sometimes: why would you leave me? why are you so heartless? I saw you walking down the road. I saw you trying to justify. I saw it all; you didn't see me. You didn't see anything. I saw you walk in to the store and meet Her. I saw your concern, your anxiety, the look that said: "at any second I'm going to be caught." I saw you walk out, hours later. Saw you cradling whatever she handed off. You didn't see me. You didn't see the Pinto, either. I saw it all. I

i long for the way our futures dangeld from the stars tapering down to kiss your button nose and to fall just within my reach      but then i remind myself that there's this thing about dangling: hanging scantily by a fiber it's so easy         "together," just to fall      and i recall that there's this silly little thing about futures: they end and just like that         "forever." they were never there at all.