ayudame
sometimes i need help
remembering where i am
who, for that matter
. . .
unfinished business:
i will do all that i can
to avoid it.
constance
rivers change course for
a reason, but see, son, an
ess is still an ess
dog ears and a cracked spine = loved.
I bought you a book
and scratched out the title.
you read into it.
well at least I didn't use abbreviations
'it would be easy,
just as, to talk in person,'
I text from my room.
that's not exactly what i meant
i spat on my arm
biking to meet you. wind put
a spin on my words.
cinnigmatic
you don't cook at all
or chew gum, yet you somehow
smell of cinnamon
this natural disaster
butterfly monsoon
i read all about you from
my quicksand armchair.
bare as the floor
this meal tastes of dust.
your shirt having, lost your smell.
i use now to sweep.
in days past I would have held your hand
present like drift wood.
sand gives to foot prints, waves take.
here, we should head back.
Now can I have your phone number?
I was charmed by you
before I knew your cat's names:
Ben Purr and Fish Tank
that one first kiss
a submarine dive
- couldn't have breathed if i tried -
sunlit resurface
why is it I never see you?
you moved to Georgetown.
well, shit, you might as well live
in Olympia
and I never write back
mi abluela sends me
paper planes flown over flames
coughed prayers to the air
gunpowder green
a tight wound leaf sinks
hot bath unfurls a steep sleep
floating in high heat
dear moon
i know you are up there
but thru the veil of soft clouds
sometimes i forget
a cavity's lament
I floss. Oh, but why?
to remind myself, it seems,
of the taste of blood.
strike (anyw)here
watch the blue spark flame
struggle to life, fantastic!
curled black burnt matchstick.
I love you #3
I don't want to eat
so much as to taste the words 'hey,
honey' off your lips.
I'm living fine (art) without you
I wouldn't bother
coming back. you're the source of
my inspiration.
untitled #5
you burst in, all flames
set to consume. 'Fuck,' i think,
having just drunk oil
frozen objections to being put in glass jars
expand to stillness
to the echo of crystals
then cold cold silence
flightless birds
why fly through the air?
legs get you there. And for food,
you dig in the dirt.
thank you for the thoughtful gift
I christened the whisk
you gave me on chowder that
took me an hour.
static-y reception
I am one of those
people who switch the station
during their pledge week.