At birthday parties, we didn’t like to imagine
What the paper donkey felt like
Being knocked around
By our wooden bats
Swinging blindly, alone
Until it bled beautiful colors
Until it gushed sweet things
And the sweet things told our mouths
“Thank you for releasing us.”

If my heart was a piñata, I would give you a blindfold
And hand you a baseball bat
Spin you around three times
And close my eyes
And we’d swing blindly, together

two birds seen floating silent with a breeze
one level with the other, straight ahead
one bird is flapping wings, while one at ease
and sitting on the wind, its merry bed

at ending wind the gliding bird must fly
and while the working bird will not lose height
its feather’s light at scooping up the sky
the second bird will lack the skill of flight
until the breeze comes back that bird will fall
and squawking wildly try to grasp the air
not practiced in the art of wings at all
but used to catching luck and resting there

but till that first strong breeze doth truly die
both birds will stay, the same, up in the sky

Perhaps you were quite noble and perhaps you did implore
That men like you should take after the Sipo Matador
So step on the weak oaks, get higher while you can
But while the lizard’s tail grows back, it is “not so in a man”

You climbed into the sunlight full of confidence and pride
At thirty seven thought you’d met the one to call your bride
And proudly then you loved, but alas, did she love you?
Broken but not beaten, you said goodbye to dearest Lou

And now you say that loves high value far precedes its worth
You talk of women as mere pawns of pleasure or of birth
Your taste in fools is lacking and your outlook is quite dim
And while you claim to know all men - you project what is within…

Oh, how I would love to trap you inside of me
Perhaps beneath that cage that is my ribs
Behind those bars that are my bones

And I’d hope they were strong enough to keep you from leaving.

Escape! I cried to you – but did you hear?
My faithful voice was muffled by my doubt.
And as I kiss you softly on your ear,
the voice inside my head begins to shout;

It cries to me that I have never known
such kindness, love and friendship as you are.
It pleads, I do not want to be alone!
Like some vain galaxy – all void of star.

My hesitation sits, you look at me
into my eyes, my face an empty page.
And softly say you never asked to be
an actor on this brutal, unfair stage.

And though I wish you wouldn’t take the part,
you will not give it back - you have my heart.

We didn’t used to be this way, (I don’t think)
All I want is for you to hold me

We talked about staying in bed
For the rest of the year
Hibernating, like a couple
Of bears in the snow

I would have, if I’d known about winter

Valentines day
Orange denim
Moist towelettes
Imitation crab meat
Telling me I’m the only thing that matters to you

I kept the pages of your heart
Bookmarked
Knowing that one day I’d lose my place
In them
And that you might
Open that book again, and show me where I fit

The sky above the sea misses the water
once the sun rises, and the skyline sits between them, and I miss you like that.

And, I miss you like the half-blazing cigarette misses those
warm lips
and the breath behind them, that would come in sharp, teasing drags
because the tobacco is nothing without that breath, and that ember goes out

and I think that without you
I might go out, too.

I am the imbalance
The flaw
I am the ladder in the stocking
I am the beam in the floor that creaks
The wilted leaf of spinach hiding in the crisp salad bowl

I am the ballerina’s crooked back
The tiger’s unfinished stripe
The last, crustless piece of pie
That no one really wants
Someone polite will eat it
And he will feel unsatisfied
Wanting more

But I cannot give you the crust
And you will feel unsatisfied
And I will feel helpless
I am the spiderweb someone has walked through
I am the space under the door that lets the wind in
The bike whose chain has fallen off

I am the space between us.

Cupid’s vomit must be candy hearts and colored cards
His rough night must end in heaving twisted over the toilet bowl, boxes of chocolates and caramels dumping into its porcelain chamber
Naked, he probably limps into his canopied room
Pulling shut the purple curtains, climbing heavily into his bed of roses
Head throbbing, beautiful blonde curls drenched in sweat
Waking up soaked in fallen tears; flower petals

it rains, and the gutters pound,
and the streets lie down
under that steady rhythm
that finger tapping belly patting rhythm

and we close our eyes
and the window sills get wet because we
left the windows open and that rain
that rhythm only wants to come in
and be our rhythm and sing its song

as our hands keep those same beats
on our bodies like the rain on streets

You tasted bitter in my dream
     When we kissed
     Tongue to lips
You tasted stronger than you seem
     Chest to chest
     Hips to hips
All my writing recently
Has displayed some form of sexuality
      And I think it fits.

A brooding mess
Of bones and flesh
The caressing tide, a soft set of fingertips
Eyes cast down
Face Fixed in Frown
   but, the curve
of a warm body and another warm body
   heals.

That curve carries
and gentle waves find their way
back to my body
                       and yours.

i want to tie you to a chair with lots of spools of string
then put a kettle on to boil and listen to it sing
i wouldn't take it off to cool instead what i would do
is take it right off of the stove and pour it on to you
and then just like the kettle you would probably start to scream
but i would only sweat as i'd be bothered by the steam

i dreamt you were a snake
and bit me
and as the venom hit me
you held my hand
and told me i would die
before you kissed me

An ugly man with crooked teeth and eyes as sharp as knives
Goes forth with axe to chop the trees, and end all of their lives
The plants they scream and raise their voice, then calm as he begins
His blade is sharp, they have no choice; their cries are drowned by wind

The air is chilled and so is he, corrupt old crazy loon
He chops them down so eagerly, and night is coming soon
With wood in hand, he leaves this land of life put to its end
And homeward bound, and through a field, the land is wide open

Day almost done, the setting sun is quickly getting gone
And kneeling down, he picks a crown of daises, one by one
And standing up, he gently cups the jewelry in his hand
With tender care that you would not expect of such a man

Into a house with crooked roof, and spaces in the walls
The man sets down his wood and with a sweet accent he calls
And little girl, with golden hair and eyes as sharp as knives
Comes running then, and reaches up, with joy and happy cries

And so the man, the ugly man, with eyes as sharp as knives
Places the crown on his daughter’s head, and kisses her golden eyes.

you don't like cake
              I like cake, but besides that we agree on things
              I like to think
you wore a red sweater today
my name means Red, berries.
I wanted to hug you but you
                                                             ­         seemed too far away

I drank your cold coffee, when I woke up
You left it to sit there, in a styrofoam cup
How lovely and pleasant, can one person be
Than to leave cold coffee, for little cold me

When I was
Probably five years old
I bit into a sandwich
It tasted good
It tasted like biting into something guilty
That was when my mom said
"Rowan, that's ham. That's pig, Rowan."
I spat the piece of pig into my hand
My throat dry and crowded

That was when I knew