I’m up before the sun most days

Drinking instant coffee and debating with myself

I write out all my thoughts and no conclusions come to mind

The phone rings off the hook but no one calls

I leave the house but never go outside

And every wall remembers what I’ve done behind fresh paint

No grounds for or from

I sleep before the dawn, between the lines

A blade spun ‘round your finger marks my neck
Her mouth is swollen and flowering
Juice drips down my fingers digging out the meaty fruit
The air citrine

Your eyes are greener than the summer we spent driving every waterfall straight into the ground
Crashing with the frozen rock we stirred in melting mirrors
Did we actually find the time?

The whiskey was strong but your fingers broke
Every string leading back to wire
No soft fraying, no dye, no red attachment underground
The lyrics lied and you blamed my gait

My stomach bursts in my dreams now
Her teeth are spread out between a hanging tongue
And I’ve only just learned my name

Once upon a time
I carried a corkscrew in my teeth
and tiny feathers leaked out
every time I whispered.
I wonder where the time goes
when you’re not cleaning out the shower drain;
all my hair collects in my pocketbook.
The barista asks for change
and all I can produce is pen caps
and an expired ****** I found in your glove box.
An ocean stands on two feet before me,
all this leather in my hands,
but I’m pierced by the clockhands
I saw in the lines around your mouth.
Tiny feathers leaking out.

There’s three ways to burn out a star
Call home and tell your mother you’re doing okay
But you won’t be home for Chirstmas
Tell her the dress she bought you wrinkled
So you cut up the edges with broken glass
Ask her to save your pay stubs in the spare bedroom
With the wedding ring you never could sell
Tell her she’s beautiful despite the lighting because the bulb is in your throat anyway

There’s two ways to burn out a star
Take your roommate out for coffee
Order one thing the cashier likes and another the manager hates
Tell your roommate you couldn’t decide what he’d like best
Ask him about the first time he saw an accident
Ask him if he saw the dog
And if he didn’t you show him where it hurts you most
Right under your navel where that filament got stuck

There’s one way to burn out a star
Leave a voicemail for yourself asking where you’ve gone to
And where did you put all of the towels
Make a fuss about a dinner party
Leave your phone on the bench and put on dark glasses
Walk away slowly while stripping off your clothes
Head into the sea

i reached up my hands

and plucked out a little life

from the low branches

a fear of songbirds

a microcosmic ringing

whispers in your sleep

You drove a fishing lure into my palm
And told me it was just the beginning
That all homes house beds
And form is just another word

You pointed to the sky
But it was really just a mirror
And all the words I breathed into it
Bounced off and floated on
Like tiny crystal clouds
You gently ****** out of the air