Dusk sets on the quiet desert
Eerie shadows hide behind saguaro soldiers
And sanguine striped snakes
Sneak back into the earth
Rowdy coyotes meet among the rocks
To cry at the moon
Who never cries back
The wind roams so freely through the desert
Stopping where she likes
To dance with the wildflowers
Or tickle the sun soaking geckos
She laughs as she passes by
And the sands chase after her
Begging to ever be so light as to
Keep company with the clouds
The mountain wraps his unfaltering arms
Snugly around the valley
A regal jacket of deep greens and browns
Laid across his towering shoulders
He lets his gaze follow the hustle and bustle
Of life in the desert as suns set and rise
From the place he has always been
Greeting each javelina and jack rabbit
As they settle into his solid embrace
The wind moves manically
Passing through the creosote bushes
With just enough time for a polite greeting
Before she rushed off to tease the birds
She touches every piece of her beloved desert
But she can never settle or linger too long
For fear of losing herself all together
The mountain feels his weight
Pressing so firmly against the earth
He faces anyone who challenges him
And he only rumbles with laughter
When they strike
But he begins to wonder what lies beyond
Where the liquidy sun shimmers in the air
He cannot abandon his post
For fear of crumbling into pieces of himself
The mountain cradles the wind
Slowing her down long enough
To warmly welcome her home
The wind tells the mountain
Stories of the desert
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 1:59 AM UTC
I am the queen
of a beige colored box
with a pretty paper lantern
and discarded ***** socks
My lover is
a magic man
with a tender, fragile heart
we bring together seamlessly
lives from worlds apart
I come from
a pass-through town
a state for changing pace
a place with concrete skillets
and a rugged kind of grace
My kingdom is a sorry sight
my lover makes me bawl
my hometown holds my heartbreak
But no one has it all
I thought about my life today
and all it’s little pieces
I gather up my favorite ones
and all my worry ceases
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 1:04 AM UTC
Sometimes I think I can feel pieces of my heart disappearing one by one,
starting from the center and working outward,
like dropping a match in the middle of an old piece of paper
It hurts
and I try to check the expiration date on my label,
but nature isn’t that kind
I think I get this feeling because of you
or, to be more accurate, because of the lack of you
The first time I felt my heart disappearing,
I found the expiration date on your label
on the top shelf of my mothers closet
it was all she had left of you
and it was all I had of you
there is no truth
when it comes to things that didn’t happen,
but of course I’ll always believe
that I took your spot like musical chairs,
there was never any room for the both of us
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
Some days the trees outside my bedroom window glow a youthful green
And spread pale yellow petals across the dry earth.
Some days the trees are dull and gray.
When a thin red string pulls our bodies close
And our breathing keeps a beat,
I know that I am me
And I know that I am here.
But most of the time it feels as though my story was written in third person.
Just before the sun rises, I want to beat him to it.
I want to clamber over the mountain top and illuminate my beautiful Sonoran,
Stroke the backs of lizards who await my warmth
And kiss the skin of sleepy girls.
Instead my bones crack under the weight of my thoughts, layering on like humiliating harmonies.
Sometimes the trees are gray for weeks.
I wonder if they’ve died,
And I wonder if it hurt.
Every morning I separate the curtains to check if they are yellow again.
I check every morning and I wait for the yellow days to come
Because I think there is also someone who checks on me.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 10:14 PM UTC
I am certain that your skin hangs loosely,
draped over your bones like an ill-fitting suit
the edges of your mouth drawn up like
the arms of a marionette,
human in every observable way –
suspiciously human, carefully constructed,
a lump of deception molded into a
humanoid sculpture
i’ve taken empathy for granted as
a natural human instinct.
I cut off a piece of my heart and
mailed it to you, with a note that said,
“the least you could do is try”
but you tore it up between your teeth
and spat the pieces at my feet
I’ve always had faith in time,
believed that wisdom and control
are sitting on a shelf in the back of our brains
on a timer
ticking in time with our heart,
but I guess that doesn’t apply to you
because time is a man made concept
and your heart is an intricate prop
you are a piece from a different collection
than me
your artist painted with black and blue,
cold colors
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Saturday night – date night.
Trace the cracks in my palm,
What do they tell you?
How long is my lifeline?
[deepen my smile lines]
Truth or Dare
How much do you trust me?
Try to be unique and beautiful –
What makes me more than human?
everyone looks for the same thing
in a different color
[truth traps with easy intimacy]
If I kept a book of my answers
To questions
I could build myself with words
[first, i have to decide how to answer]
I'll pick me up at six oh eight
For a date
[with myself]
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
It's really the suspense that keeps me alive
curiosity pumping my blood
because if i were to go to a fortune teller today
i could **** myself tonight
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC
Loud music is silent, silent thoughts are loud.
Is that my heartbeat?
Or yours?
pounding in my ears
My skin writhes uncomfortably on my bones as if it doesn’t belong there.
My marrow craves you; my deepest crevice calls for you in a low throaty voice
I want to know how your skin feels
traveling up my body like your eyes do
I want to feel the way your fingertips explore me
Are they
gentle
searching
rough
h e s i t a n t
I want to know if energy flows through you
the way it flows through me
because my energy sits low in my hip bones
I can feel the vibrations formed by the whispers about you
My dents and depressions exhale your name into the atmosphere
I hope it will reach you,
I hope you can hear me wanting you
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
Do you remember when the light in our eyes was brighter than the light of the stars,
when we used to tell each other reasons that we didn’t believe in god?
Tonight the clouds closed their eyes, clenched their fists, and swallowed the stars.
The older I get the less the moon stays to kiss me goodnight.
Tonight I’m praying to a rhetorical question.
I used to tell you that the silence was one of the reasons I didn’t believe.
Being friends with you has taught me that the silence is the response.
I’ve learned that my prayers are selfish.
The past few months i’ve peeled you off of me like a layer of dead skin.
I left my fragile exoskeleton on the shelf next to the questions you never asked me and the ***** you never gave.
I know all the reasons you hate me.
They’re the same reasons I hate myself;
I don’t know if that makes it hurt more or less,
but I would rather rot alone
than be pluto caught in your orbit.
My jealousy is oozing out in purple ink and sloppy cursive
because my stained lungs have finally given out.
I stopped shouting at you when I realized that
no one has ever fully heard something that weren’t ready to hear.
You only ever needed one reason to believe that the sky was empty,
Because god looked back at you in every mirror you passed.
Tonight I’m praying to a perverted question
just to prove you wrong.
Sincerely,
–if you need me i’m right where you left me
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 3:22 AM UTC
Does it make you feel powerful to tell me that
I do not own my body?
Do you get satisfaction from looking down on me
from the pedestal you’ve clawed and crawled your way onto?
Tell me,
does it make you feel good to threaten me
with words that come out of your mouth so empty
but land on my shoulders so heavy
Tell me,
do you get high from the nauseous look in her eyes
as she meets yours, slowly trespassing along her body?
Does it sound like music to hear the tremble in her voice,
look like art to see her to resent her femininity,
feel like silk to touch what you have no business touching?
Tell me what it is.
Tell me what you think you can get from me,
what it is you think I owe you.
Tell me that it is necessary, justify your theft –
Do you feed off of dehumanization,
can you pocket the profit from her sense of security,
shelter yourself with their rights, their body, their life?
Where did you learn to value your impulses over her innocence?
Where did you learn to assert yourself where you do not belong?
Where did you learn to rip a woman apart piece by piece
starting with her dignity and ending with her self-worth?
Tell me,
what does it feel like to own your body?
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC