Gainesville    1991 -    

I am
25 years old
Looking into the eyes of a man
Who might already know me better
Than anyone I know.
And my heart knows the way
But my mind is clouded with questions
And as he kisses me
I wonder
Who I am now.
Who I am now.

The woods were all shafts
of late afternoon light,
slipshodding through canopies and across singing marshes
of toads and crickets,
dripping as warm honey drips,
Collecting in angular golden pools,
Much like how delicate gold chains might fold over and into themselves in order to
We reflected that the day was nearly done,
And we held hands as we walked back home,
And you told me things that made my heart expand,
And now you are gone
And it rests
With an ache that is wholly
I'm just a pile of thin chain, made brass by neglect.
I haven't stopped thinking about you

I think I have a strange heart,
One that warbles in my chest,
Like a fat red cardinal trembling
As it decides to turn back around
On a thin twig of a tree branch,
Whose leaves jitter and shake in time
With long red feathers on wings.

I think my heart is strange,
But it seems to know you very well.
What will come of this, you think?
Only time can tell.

I am the Bartleby
Of sex.

Relax past participle in order to
Accelerate mass particles
And innervate long dead articles
Of thought once thought tried and untrue.

"T-t-tuh-truthfully," he stammered,
"I cannot tell the d-d-difference."

Inside a recently abandoned coal mine,
His voice scattered down endless tunnels.

He lit a match and held it up before him,
But it immediately burned out.

"Are you an idiot or something?"
His companion shuffled beside him.

There was small, plastic-sounding click
And then they were both bathed in light.

"You can't light matches down here, ass.
You'll blow us to Kingdom Come."

"S-s-s-" but his companion cut him off. "Sorry
don't put the skin back on your bones."

"Now look again, Matine." His companion
Urged him closer to the small wooden table.

Matine looked at the two, ancient sea shells,
Anxiety filling up his stomach like acid soup.

Several tense seconds passed as he brought
Each one up to his face and studied it.

"T-t-tuh-truthfully," he stammered,
"I cannot tell the d-d-difference."

Inside a recently abandoned coal mine,
His voice scattered down endless tunnels.

Matine's companion was not a patient man.
His name was Jack. And he left the mine.

Matine did not.

Duh Duh Duuuhhh

She reasoned
That when it was all "said and done"
She'd know that she did the best she could.

"Trees do not uproot themselves for your pleasure,"
She told herself.

"They are uprooted because they must be,
By wind or rain or decay, or for want of money."
Her heart sank slightly.
"But they do not take commands."

A pebble rolled grittily between the rubber sole
Of her shoe and the slumbering asphalt.
She watched it ricochet off into the dark tree line.

"I will climb trees," she thought, and for the first time in days
She felt herself

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