-
From you I learned that the sun is only another star,
and some days it cannot warm you
-
Your mother is dying.
It is not an elegant death,
-
-
-
-
My father tells me I'm a witch. A good one, maybe. His guardian angel.
-
Your blow-up doll love.
Your wild frantic ugly hands.
-
-
I wonder if our blood can hold together across three thousand miles
of flat Americana.
-
half-blind, he is staring at me
like I am a ghost.
-
Sometimes it's good to get out of my own skin,
slink quietly into someone else's.
-
-
Not a poem, per se. Dialogue. Love? Something like that.
-
like a wasp, you never gave up
until someone smacked you dead.
-
do you remember the way we kissed each other?
After our tongues all we had was the silence
-
-
You said you could taste
the black hole vacuum of my tears,
-
like lightning like kite strings
let loose and wild midnights
-
My mother opened up her wide pink palms and plunked down in front of me twenty-three years of regrets. "I don't want these," I said
-
(it is warm here, and we are dancing.)
-
first poem in awhile. tear it apart, please.
-
oh wide, hips like mountains, breath steamrolling mountaintops, weightless,
high like kite strings
-
under my bed
the monsters are ravenous.
-
This is the sound when he is gone--
metal upon metal like old gears,
-
I will tell you this: The closest to homeless I've ever been
was sleeping in a park in San Antonio,
-
dry me out. i am sopping wet with tears
wrung through me clothing line.
-
upon first glance
the fish was in a frying pan.
-
oh oh oh what have i become, transfixed
-
-
(might need a real title eventually)
-
(I don't know why I miss you)
-
In the parking lot of OfficeMax,
off of 5th Avenue,
-
Do you keep your fireflies in jars?
They will suffoate on so much light,
-
I make tea by the harsh glow of the kitchen light,
step over the grumbling, dreamy dog,
-
There is a sock in the closet
with a hole in the heel. I should throw it out.
|