I sat on your bed, boiling hot
Aching all over. I stared up at the
Stars we had plastered-together
On your ceiling.
Your hand touched your crotch-the mattress
Moved side to side, I just wanted your hand on
My forehead, words like: “You are the most
Beautiful girl I have ever known.” Although,
Had you made such a comment,

I would      not    have    believed    you.

I sat boiling hot, like in hell, sweat on my back, and on my
*******-but I did not want you to touch them.
So your hand grabbed at your crotch, I heard your moaning
As I sat comatose, still, waiting
As you pleased a biological extremity-a hungry and base
Instinct       to ***

Where did we go, when it all came down
Some of us ran into the ocean   became mermaids
And some climbed higher and higher    into the sun
Where did we go   where’d we run away   I thought
I had it all under control   it was not the better plan though
Some ran    into a swamp   where gators  swam   and swayed
Did they sink? Or were they eaten? Or did some godly-thing occur  when
They found a kingdom   below

I look down at my dog   we both look ahead into the city
And i ask him: where did we go    we did not know   that
We’d take different paths    and i ran into the ocean
Because a wise man told me the salt   would heal
My wounds

Destiny   speaks   like a Queen     even
though    you may not love     her now      I don’t envy
her   for the love you gave her      I envy
her strength    for being  able to survive without it

i used to think  I wanted to be the most beautiful
girl in the world        possess perfection    so
pretty you    just could not   reject me
i had you     you had me      but it always felt  like
I could  lose  you to the    wind    or a wild thing   at
a party    or   at a bar with your friends   or from the
many travels around the world  
you’ve embarked on

recently i’ve been getting   compliments
people talking about   my   this or that  
but  yet    there lies  an emptiness    a little
black whole in me   that I am trying to
understand  
today I spoke     and you grew silent   and
there was   a distance    I haven’t felt for   a long time

And I learned that no   matter  how beautiful   the world
sees me     I will never feel enough  for you
Like an uphill    climb        I yearn
for the mountain view        

Perhaps  one day  I will  achieve  greatness

Avery        sat  across   the room in two classes
Of mine-starky, lean, and well       philosophical.
His brown eyes only scanned me         I was
Nothing     to him.
He always stormed in      just in time  
I’d think     he must be absent    today
But no       there he’d come,  tall    white    and well,
Alluring.
His bags all over the floor     how could he make
Mess look so       classy        so           elegant
****. He
Spoke with such   top-notch   diction   and
His voice-straight, methodical, structured
But perhaps the enchantment came from
His cedar-like after-smell    like Jewish markets
In the City. That rich, well-educated, cocky      smell.
Avery sat across the room, and read his writing

I read mine to him,    but
I was nothing
To him.

What may I be?
The first crazy woman in time.
The one he ***** and impregnated. I
gave birth to Adam,
maybe. The beginning
of the world began
with me.
Who may I be?
The first woman he loved. And
did I keep coming back, only
in different bodies and times?
So many children we
lost count.
And can it be,
after so many years of
crying babes and ****** wars,
of greedy boys and jealous daughters,
we found each other once again?

Me, the first woman?
And you, the first man?

What was I dreaming   about?
A cabinet   full   of sad secrets    must
Have been      before you woke   me up
Screaming,  frenzied    because
Of a big   flea you found    at the corner
Of your bed      where is mama?   I asked
You were   shaking    and I was too   but
You    were scared   about the  flea   and
Whether   it had gotten   so fat   because
It was   feeding   on you  
All this time    and I found
Mom on the couch, covered up in thick
Blankets     i was shaking too
As I saw her   asleep     cause
She never sleeps.

Here we are safe I think,
in the blue box that lets
only the two of us enter.
Here, I think we can speak
to shadows and the moon
comes down just for us,
in our blue box.
Upside down, my hands
against the blue walls,
I am not human. And neither
are you.

my being changes   all the time
I doubt your love   and all the beautiful things
it has brought me    I feel myself forgetting   all the things
that make us   us   and binds   us   like grapes  in a bunch
I feel myself   falling   into holes   and fake
stories,   trying to feel myself    even though
I don’t know where   to touch  
where
do I hurt?
is the energy I’ve always felt    just sadness
that rolls from me   to you   to all the people
I’ve ever known        the food bloats my belly
but it’s always better than feeling nothing     how scared
I am to start crying out   of nowhere     scared of what
others may say about me

how much is too much    I just push you away and  want you back
it’s like a game    how far can I push you out to sea
and reel you back in  

how does it feel to be gutted?

My parents hid   the bread  you used to love
when  we’d all sit  down  drink coffee   munch on a few
Maria cookies   how’d you jump from side to side  small paws
at our legs   asking for crumbs   when  they left
I searched for   the bread   and found it  hard and stale
on the top  kitchen   cabinet    I poked a hole into one
bun   and filled it with  cheese    
imagined how you’d   beg me for
a piece

In my sleep you came again as you often do,
and you    stared  into me  begging for an answer
I still take your  breath away, don’t I      you asked
and all I could say   breathless  
no Louis,     you don’t

hi there  what stories can I tell
that  will make   you not forget  the
girl  who appears here
every so often?
let me   plague  you
let me   haunt you
let me be   the fantasy   that I cannot
fulfill in person

hi there   tell me what hurts
if I dig  a little  deeper than most  
will you   think    I’m real?
will you   think    destiny has brought
two bored  craving  souls

here

you are not alone   I speak to many
just searching  for   someone
who isn’t here

You wouldn’t know, would you? About the slim man
You talk with at midnight-well, I know him. His name
Is Louis and once upon a time,
I watched him from my sixth floor apartment.
His name is Louis.
His name is Louis.
****, his name is Louis.

you stand at a large    rock’s edge
you say   things like    God loves each of  us    
as if         there were only one of us
you take pictures of   strangers   of lovers on hills
of your feet dipped in  red sands   I watch you
intently    trying to find   what connects  you to me
if there is anything at all    to salvage  or
create
you take snapshots  of your existence  when
you’re older, you’ll have them to  remind you
of your  adventures  on The Big Island  

you sound   like you’d be sweet  and gentle
but I’m   too misleading    maybe I just see what
I want to see     in you
So  what do I do        I like to  imagine the
endless possibilities  of your  character     would
you be the  type  to touch me   in early mornings
to check if I’m awake?  would  you   kiss my body
as if   it is something   new  to  you   all the time
would   you  be   the thing     that makes me better
changes   the inconsistency  of my   spirit    
really    who knows?

If I were   coded
like a machine    would you be able
to solve   me out and    see all my   sins  ?
Maybe   you weren’t the    bad one    to begin with

I doubt  now    how
Funny   how sometimes  i feel
So sure   of your emotions
And so quickly  i forget    if you
Ever did love me     as if love
Is something    so fickle    it makes no sense
Should love not   be honest   and real
And solid like a stone    but why does it feel
As if i never   held it    like water   it has always
Felt so fleeting    or fragile    
It may have   been my parents     the abrupt
Changes   in their   words and moods    ive
Always felt    like i didn’t  know     anything
Or what was happening      what happened?  And
Waking up in the morning    to music  on my birthday
But   other days to screams    and   nervous  pleas
To help my mother    who was diabetic   and   dying
And now    you and I    and you, so far away   I
Don’t know how   to deal with it    and I get
Scared at   myself    and I get   scared  of you, does
That make sense    scared   of  
What     we do     with ourselves

I almost forget her name,
the one who sent you the picture of her
pink ****  who maybe, in a moment of angst,
wanted to feel wanted.

I mean, I get it.

This hooded man mutters in your ear,
speaks of minotaurs and heroes. You
said we had found Winesburg long ago.
We know he works at Costco, but now
we know his name is David, this hooded
man. He wore a straw hat from Thailand
days ago, thought perhaps he was
eccentric and out-of-the box.
He is,  I think.
It scares me dear, that he heard our small
talk, all those words that slipped
from our lips
into his ears…

Does he know us more than those who think
they know us?

My eyes wrinkle with pain and discomfort
probably from the toxic levels of ammonia   in my room

my cat’s spray  marking territory
no matter how  barren

If you listen closely   in fact   you might hear the sound of the mice in our walls

I asked you a ***** question last night
I was pungent too, interrupted showers
or from the natural  odors this body emits from
stress   and work   and undesirable outcomes

I had moved from my seat to the bed, littered with unwashed garments and ties,  on one corner
stained with blood from my cycle

I had
forgotten to  dab it quickly


And here I found my little life
open and  defective   like a   child’s
suggestion   to     read     the Bible

My garbage overflowed  with rotten items
processed   foods, exposed to the airs of my room,
the sniffs of my cat    and other critters

My eyes  shifting forms  red and gauzy

Maybe even     not even me

Just a mirror     of an old human  feeling
like desire, hate, envy

Summoning   death   for all the wrong reasons

to converse   like old friends
to be let into a secret  room

to become some  thing better

Crying over a dog   is a bit    Xtra   no one wants
to talk about the little    sad things in life   like  sick dogs
with  broken limbs    weak breathing    desperate eyes
it happens   everywhere   that type of suffering

I may have been a doll
when I had tiny shoulders and
you could see the bones of my neck.
And perhaps you too, thought
yourself a sort of extra ordinary
creature who could change
my life. And it was for this
reason that I fell from the shelf
and hit my porcelain head on
the floor and saw my
little hand point towards you.
And I said, “Take me.”
And you said, “How?”
And then with my hand,
I took your hand, and
asked you to wrap your
fingers around my neck.

after each   tough event,   you two would sit Kathy
and I down    either in early mornings   or late nights   and say:
we’ve only got  each other    we can’t trust the world
or something alluding to how alone we were here in New York,
no friends, no family     hell, no neighbors
and   sometimes, mom would use her illness to get back at you for cheating
or for getting home late from work    but little did she know
you’d smack her head side to side    when her blood sugar
dropped  and dropped   and dropped   til she was unconscious
and Kathy and I gained so much freakin weight    we had no idea how
to love ourselves     when I got my first job  all I wanted
was    to go out to gay bars and get drunk
I learned from the best     to get angry      dad would break apart
all the cabinets   when he couldn’t deal   with all the stuff   going
around and around   and around
and mom     didn’t know   how to love herself   enough  to teach us
and we still      don’t know

When I can  not direct my body to release
appropriately   I resort to dreams of a handsome
boy, a ******* addict at a motel whose sole purpose
is to please me    and somewhere in the narrative he
falls deeply in love with my zestful spirit,
and so, I embrace him   and I rub against him,
but somewhere here, the whole thing becomes
quite maternal
and I cannot recognize him as the
****** object of my desires
  
that is when I begin to write of him,
the texture of his skin, the ice in his eyes, the veins on his neck,
the girth of his manhood as he
lowers himself unto me and looks at me
desperately as if I am the goddess
that will give him all the riches of earth.

Many things   and maybe
Im always   just going in circles,
Really not    moving forward
But then again, does it matter?

In the front seat of your car
When I was younger, and sadder,
You and I used to take long walks and
Take photographs of people here in the City.
Sometimes, we would sit at cafes and exchange
Poems, stories. We were going to be artists, and live the
Good life. But then
I think I fell in love     with the thinness of your frame
And more possibly     your stories and the freeness of your spirit.
And I think       you did not feel the same about me.
Now,      I watch you still and wonder about
the nature
Of your thoughts.  Do you see me grown?
Now you,      an accountant
And me?       Just here.

Green-eyed machine,
no legs and just waiting for
a pair of hands to push him through.
Man with whimpering throat sounds,
stumbling words and inaudible messages.
I can’t understand you. Glenn, wheelchair man
in his thirties with green eyes and a twisted mouth.
He wants to see Springsteen in theaters, but the movie
hasn’t come out yet. He gets angry and
asks to see the manager. Glenn. Glenn
sells chocolates at the station and
crawls with three hundred bucks in
his pocket everywhere he goes.
I think I’d kiss him
if I were older, and if I weren't so
embarrassed to be near him

my greatness is never capitalized, never
existing or full, happy never
there are things i swallow and don’t
chew and walk up and down
without thinking   who are you man
to request a kiss or a handshake
from my prune-like soul   laugh
nicely with a yellow suit on your
shoulder   achieve greatness
for me and
tell me
a story of triumph
or of bruised oranges you liked to eat
before men fell from grace   I’ll listen
here
are you good and is it bad to smile
and have my heart beat fast when
you call me a princess
i told you it was easy
i was always easy
stupid and fickle and wanting and lost
and asking and talking with you of
fishes and the future
greatness is never capitalized  it does not exist
in love
or lust or any other element of the body and spirit
neither does it exist
in these words

To fight     despite  territorial  challenges
To thrive  amidst  natural fears  and  inherited guilts
how to   be  successful    I ask    God  or the
saints    I cherished  in childhood  
how  do I live    happy here?  I can barely
eat in peace   always thinking about   the rapid
breaths  the sadness that consume  you two
who   tried to raise   me   grateful

I wonder
what you do in those retreats,
those wanderings into the woods.
What do you accomplish?
What do you fulfill?
Do you hunger perhaps, for the taste of
luxury and collapse?

And I can see you,
bow and arrow on your shoulders,
waiting for the deer.
And what is it that you do, coming back
sweaty and nervous, giddy and wanting,
lusting.
Long-haired, skinny man, dark eyes
and pale-skinned-
you come home    wet.
And I wonder if I can still love you
after all the women
who have followed your steps,
eaten from your mouth, kissed it,
loved you.

You come back hot, red veins
like demons in your eyes. Dark shadows
thirst for what you’ve already
tasted.
Are you some-type of prophet?
Do you think yourself a God, a prince?
Surely no God eats with his fingers.

But do tell me instead that I am a queen,
yours to take and ravish and hold.

And fall from your mountain,
and come down to earth.
For prophets love all women,
and I desire you
for only myself.

Who will make my heart ache such
Or make me   eternally   bleed   or beat
Wildly   due to   regret  and
Unrequited love
Who was  it   who   initiated
This  feeling   of sad   of  anger   of
Not wanting   to   grow   up    lose   myself
In legends   of   the land  of the Tsar
Maybe    it   was   you  
Or the day   i discovered    my muse
Was  married
Or    a  blue-eyed     karate kid
Or  a  tall  boy  on a bicycle
Or then again     you
When   you confessed   your fault  and
I listened    not knowing    
What     this   would    all mean

i walked 16 miles with you for Pokemon Go,
even though I knew I didn’t want to, or at least,
I’d have rather done something else

like walk romantically near a lake,
have a coffee at a corner,
eat expensive chocolates at a museum
go to the movies
kiss uncontrollably

so when we made the 14th mile, I could resist no longer
the anger
the urge to fight any woman   like me   craving your attention

and so I smacked my cheek, hoped someone took a picture

and called it a day

She wasn’t the wolf
under the bed or the one
who huffed the three houses
down when the pigs were
asleep. She wasn’t the one
who laid her head down
on that pillow while they
hollered words of
comfort and love. She was the
one who slept quietly
as he touched her feet and
touched her legs
and perhaps
kept her warm
when the drink dizzied
her up and her lips were
numb. I heard her.
And he said he loved her.
And I thought of her feet
very small with five toes
each and I thought
of her breath
her huff caressing
a strand of hair on
her forehead. That soft
inhalation as she felt his
hands between
her toes.

How exactly  it happened
not so sure   but before you knew it
I had blown up like a blow fish
and round like a plum, i got red
at the truth
in your remarks

Slowly   it  embraces me
Slowly   it  becomes   the object
that   holds  my weakness   and
chews   it  

Soon     it
will regurgitate   greatness

Seems fitting   like a good thing
to have you in a   poem   forever  the kids
that weren’t mine   or me   no matter how
much I wanted   us to  feel   like family

Seems fitting   to dream P.  up a star
playing  for a big  soccer league  on a field
surrounded by admirers  for his smile, his wit
his laughter    

And would he  remember me   the Elsa girl
who watched funny animals  with him so he
would smile, left behind from  a trip    one of the
so very few the kids   here ever get

and you   what to even write? the swings  
the ocean   the waves of your spirit    the strength, dare I say
that made you  up from scratch    on dark days
the dreams that kept you up, and up, and up

and just like a shudder    you both came and left
leaving  your steps in the hallways   of here
leaving your faces embedded in my    heart
taking with  you  all the good things  I wanted you to take

all good things   like the dreams
of success, of power, of happiness, of love, of truth, and redemption

thank  you for saying    hello  and
not expecting  anything else from me

My existence is a joke    to those who see me
I am not  woman  enough  to harbor love poems
from those who walk past me    or to have my mother
gloat to church acquaintances   about my beauty  my
travels   my  incredible abilities   or  my outstanding schooling
I have formed myself  in the image of     a snake   down to
the very texture of my skin
How I do desire to be all the things   I tell you, for you’ve
fallen in love   with all the lies I’ve told-how I am strong-willed,
confident, and an all around interesting person
Even worse, I’ve led you to believe that I can surpass
the faults of my past and the pain of my childhood as if
I am a phoenix  rising from ashes   but
I am not a bird   I am human
My father   wanted a son  and even my stocky build
Doesn’t  allow for his mind to see me as such  although
My mother’s best insults insinuate my diet
Resembles that of a man
And where does the mind go when it doesn’t know
what is wrong   or right  
or harsh or kind?  I inherited the sadness of their
Hearts, and no longer am I sure if I can  break away
From it all

when i first saw him in my grandmother’s house in Torices, I cried with joy
never had I felt such love and adoration for a creature   so little   and innocent
so full of hope   and dreams   all he dreamt   was of loving us    and defending us
against dragons   and imaginary    monsters    the king of the house   how ordinary
it is   the love   a dog gives to its     owner         and yet  i looked upon him
with such   wonder     he fought      all fights   as if they were his last
i still see    his   brown eyes   and white against    dark walls
the bark     that broke  silences     and soothed    wounds  and pains
the touch   of a  wild  thing     tamed
how   we walked   we walked    we walked   and when he was young
he ran  like     water      
my little    thing      what do i call you?
you saw me    grow  up    grandpa   died   and then
grandma    died too      you met the boy of my dreams  and
made sure he would    not    break my heart
you loved    my worst   parts      loved my father   despite
his  anger    loved my mother     despite her faults
when you died,    I cried like the time I had first seen you
my little thing       close to me always
what a pair  we made   here      walking  in sync   just right
the sun shone  for us    on Thursday mornings     mom and dad
giving you a piece of your favorite treat
my little thing     how ordinary   it all is

The bulb  shivered  and popped
like lightning     mama would say the
spirits are  out   trying to get our   attention

Living      Room

Here   we die    every day

My eyes still look for you
On sixth floor balconies    all
Over town.

i tend to forget easier   now   if what we have is authentic,
so many things happening in our lives    school, work   we are
so afraid of our futures    what does it hold for us?
does music reflect us?     when I say    hey, I heard this song and it
reminds me of you            do you care  
I think    we are alone   now
the    way you hold me   is holy
flightless bird    find me    jealous   weeping

I sang for you when my faults were few,
And my voice did not stop when they too grew.
I said my children would be just like you.
You kissed my cheek and then withdrew.
And when you weren’t there, I felt it still.
I sang for you when my faults were few,
Doubtful my foot would fit into a glass shoe.
But I was the Hum and you were the Hill.
I said my children would be just like you.
You caught the flightless bird that flew,
The outward slave with inner free will.
I sang for you when my faults were few,
When we hadn’t known we were one, but separate: two.
Could you hold my best parts and my worst ones ****?
I said my children would be just like you.
These stars prefer walls of graveled blue.
Could you really love my frailties and skills?
I sang for you when my faults were few,
I want my children to be just like you.

my lover and I got stuck in a snowy trail  his blue car
couldn’t handle  the   deepness   the cold  and well, there
we found ourselves knocking at the closest door   and
he was saying     “we’re travellers in need of assistance”  and
I’m staring into a white woman’s blank face
trying to look serious
and her husband’s taking an important call, but she assures us he can
help us, if we wait   five   or  ten   or maybe fifteen minutes
so we wait   and then old Mark comes out  all kind with smiles
and he tells us   he’ll bring out his tractor
you and I listen to him  afterwards   talk about the bald eagles on ice
he’d see in Lacrosse, WI  when he was younger

he tells me you’re a keeper
he calls me  your better half

I wish I knew   if he is right

Ok ok,    I may have skewed the details
Like how you were   digging the deep weeds out
And giggled as I fainted from the heat   or when
I said that if I had bigger ****  you wouldn’t have
Me doing    this    type   of   work  
But you did say: Keep  on talkin’ like that   and see
I gutted the gravel and sand bags as you spread them
Out on the yard    who knew leveling the ground
Would be    this ******* hard
At some point, I guzzled a can of ale    and almost
Hit you with the shovel     digging for any type
Of emotion  I admit,  maybe it was just my fault
I was   crying
Your face and clothes were drenched with sweat and
I was so angry that  you hadn’t called me
Beautiful    
And girls like me     we don’t get that
Luxury

I didn’t hear you when you asked for
A kiss

your family is  messy  but so am I
my parents fed me a story  that made me
believe on the 4th of July   that all
my troubles started when I fell in love
with you  and drank from a cup
in your roach-infested home in
the Bronx

my old friend   Kev gave me a call
and strange to believe   that I think it was a mistake
a ****-dial    made at 7pm     for old time’s sake

Even  though I am now 26    and I feel older
I don’t think   time  makes things  easy
it makes  it harder   and harder
I find myself   missing things

more deeply

all the time

I can write about you    forever
About the small things I remember
Of all the pain  and childish habits I
Had when it came to knowing you
Like milkshake dates we never had
Because I was too scared and you were
Too silent
Like watching you through binoculars and back and
Forths from our balconies you must have
Thought I was a creep
And I thought you were divine
And yet when we did sit next to each other
We just didn’t   know what to talk about
And no matter how much I told myself
That you simply took the breath out of me,
I knew    we just weren’t meant  to know
Too much about each other

You remain untouchable  like a legend,
I flipped your pages just enough to
Smell your   soul   and then let you
Take your course, wherever it took you
I don’t desire to know

The bird, they said, did many things.
My sister said it died, like our old one,
Fell unto the cage’s edge like a feather. And I suppose,
if it was picked up by my mother, it must
have been rigid and cold. But
My father, he said it had stopped eating,
and in a paramount effort to escape, grew thin, and
squeezed out from the cage.

Maybe    it succeeded.