Sunday, February 27, 2011


The paths that we lay upon this paper
Smudged off by fingers that leave telltale
prints on other's necks and cheeks.
The signs that we cut are brushed close
with wretched branches that fall from
ancient trees.
These landmarks and coordinates are hazy
as we suffer from hyperthermia.
With dry leathery tongues
and dusty breaths we continue
to waste our short time with
talk of water.
Follow these hazy tracks
with double, now triple vision.
Search for an oasis that will hold
your writhing body close to the shade
and away from the flame.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Late Night Answering Machine #1

When I was a baby, my father dropped me on my head and I bounced into my mother's arms. My mother cried everyday until she died. I wonder if she was crying for me or for herself.

Friday, February 4, 2011

These are the moments
I return to.
Warm air electric
with the current
of energy that
seeps through pores
of a body that cares.

Thursday, February 3, 2011


Fuck the etiquette of
what should be said
and fuck the thoughts
that control my head.
Fuck the life
that holds me
tight with
both thumbs white
against my throat
Until I choke back
all the words that
must be said
Fuck the weight
of the blood in my brain
as it thickens and clots
that may just leave me
bleeding on the floor.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Pretty Stuff

Hold me tight
(but not too tight)
as I open myself up
to reveal the
pretty stuff
that makes me up
as it slides out on the
floor in a puddle
at your feet
try not to act
as I give you
ALL of me
with the crazy
and the lovely
and everything
Hold me close
(but not too close)
as you wait
for me to
How she shall live life.
Fill in the ending with a word
that just won't rhyme.