fit to burst, ***** coat you
in tepache
ginger and sweet, stink of
the slow gelatiny we keep
or kept
it’s just energy, right?
this momentum is my entire chest
we are deer frolicking through
a summer forest
especially you with the white dots you put on your cheeks
it’s cute
and I tell you, and you hide your face
and you laugh at me for the sound I make when you hug me
and the deer step, ginger and sweet, steep slope down
a rock unwedges. it doesn’t mean anything.
Jun 1, 2023
Jun 1, 2023 at 3:47 PM UTC
the alien, the absurd
intrigue you, we share that
watching pink spaghetti
absurd is the way we are donuts
and the absent filling
and why you can feel at home
on the seafloor with me,
losing at stupid games
you know, a tripod fish can stand?
Jun 1, 2023
Jun 1, 2023 at 3:46 PM UTC
we felt it coming, or I did
and we watched it for some time
watched the shadow of something bigger than our imaginations
that should have been soft and lively
fall. and by the time it was to us, it had bloated
bulbous in the abyss
but more time has passed, it may have been years,
and we have found way to eat it,
scuttling and gleaming.
there are more of us than it felt. crawling out of the
sand, immobile for eons, staring as stars fell from
the sky, or nasty anglerfish, or from ourselves.
but this meteor is nurturing. our own little cambria,
and we spring to action, claw in claw,
turning rot into joy
Jun 1, 2023
Jun 1, 2023 at 3:45 PM UTC
the sludge from my toes,
sweet and leaking marrow, secreted
into roots that eat the earth
because once, i bled
— my head didn’t have antennae
before i met you, lost you
and i’m sat alone in this grove of whispers
not the only tree, or the last moth.
the only voice is mine,
“oh, i’ve grown, have i”
and i’ve healed, but is it
the sun my dripping branches follow?
is it the sun?
Feb 7, 2023
Feb 7, 2023 at 5:01 PM UTC
If I could, I would make my fingers longer
and crack, I would lean forward in my dim-lit cottage chair
I would leer down at you, taller than me
I would swell in shadow with the smell of poultice around
You would think I have more eyes than I have
And I would say
“Young Beast, finally, you have joined me here in the Present. So I curse you again.”
And you would leave without your fur.
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 12:00 PM UTC
every string in a knitting wheel,
all color and texture and progress.
sometimes, a poem is
stapling Time to the floor
hoping, as it hops out the window,
it leaves you the tear of its train.
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 5:38 PM UTC
make it from a glass of water with two ice cubes in it, or three, as long as it’s
“a prime number less than 5”
it’s less about the cold than feeling right
and find a dandelion, picked from our yard together
blow a wish, and bring me one of the seeds, and
tell me how it’s a fruit, so that makes it a vegetable
shake in the coffee shop mornings we kept together,
playing cards and gossiping, thinking about holding hands
while sharing my favorite breakfast (was it yours?)
bring me an espresso drip from anywhere; it would all be just as special
crush the little moments you’d bicker about
which of you would play as our drummer,
or when you’d chide me for my pronunciation of “petrichor” —
i was right, by the way
do you remember when i thought a cobweb was just dirt and static?
i was okay never living that down.
how were we so playful?
so find me the dust in our house, our powdered history
boil and distill the hack nights and projects and dreams we’d hatch together,
never needing to finish, always burning to
we were going to bring the world so much joy. do you think we did?
we had too much to do. so bring me a poker chip, some mac & cheese,
vanilla ***** and peanut butter whiskey
it is selfish. but anyways,
give me the tincture of those rituals
let me live a moment as each of you,
and drink it in
so that when i pass from that penultimate casket,
we all die together
i love you, and i’m sorry
May 13, 2021
May 13, 2021 at 5:39 PM UTC
I.
firm, calloused with adventure,
brown and pink, muscled and silly,
the femininity you finally found.
the ball is always so tense. your
cute, powerful wedges, keeping you up,
meeting the earth with the recklessness of love.
the tapping of tight tendons as I push
into the density you walk. the smooth, convex
curve down from your ankle. it is calculated,
carefully considered, like you give gifts.
there is no brighter sun.
II.
light, small, soft
pliable, cohesive, self-certain
the arch defined but not severe,
(like you think you always are),
a shape like your self, something
you have always protected,
hidden, kept inside, kept from
the rough of the outside.
granted, you can kick
(and dance!) just fine.
each precious, slender digit
lays against the next
like new bushes
in a family garden,
sparse but friendly,
known and touching.
connected. and to me, as
I press and roll you around.
you taught me that someone
might like having their
ankle rubbed. I didn't even know.
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 5:45 PM UTC
stuck between panes of glass
cared for, no smudges,
only a small gathering of dust
the light comes in behind me all day
for you, soft rays, magnified past
my wings that flutter in the window
and you, you've lived through so much
have you been here? what were your wings like?
dull brown, like mine?
there is a little hole in the screen
and i am not the first to enter
but maybe i will be the last to leave
i am not afraid, but i am hungry.
you will tarry with your meal.
you joke about finishing last. it's funny.
and in the eve, when darkness takes my back
when there is nothing to see but you
and the book you're reading
you smile on the couch
you look over, you see me,
you smile then too
my little antennae, my feeble arms
cannot press into you with the weight
of relief, or release, or the reality i would give you
if only i could flitter a little harder
if only i could crawl beneath that second frame
if only i were a little stronger, i would press you tight,
my flame
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 12:40 PM UTC
Orange and shamrock,
blood of the mountain,
the bite of cement:
Pronounce the boundary.
Seek it.
Stretch it.
Sharp city glass,
butane and flint,
gravel-crunch graffiti:
Sever and stroke.
Shatter it.
Stitch it.
Fourteen earthworms after rain,
petrichor, bottled,
cinnamon, bergamot:
Remember your tethers.
Strum them.
Sing them.
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC