7/15/2017

A plank of wood,
sand mites bite our ankles
my ankles

One in the morning at the
Gated Beach Community
and the signs said

Without parental supervision,
No one under 16 allowed
but there I was, 15

Dealing with a bad lease on my brain, don't forget yours, too
parents nowhere to be found

Or maybe two buildings over
Years later, it's night
I step over puddles, drunk boys

Walk around the complex laughing
Trying to remember when I found that sort of thing fun,

Remembering never,
I sit on a ledge--
And you'd never guess the sea

Was several hundred feet away
with the way the sky bleeds black
congealing, together

The Atlantic and it.
Remembering my old obsession
With blood, my old poems

Speaking feverishly of it
adding meaningless symbols-
the flower the color of it,

or the sky in the morning in august
trying, selfishly, to make sense of my life.

I wish to run a fever-- forget this place ever existed
Or you, truthfully.

a haw and saw.
a thorn.

fruit: it is ecstasy
never bit and
undeniable.

you slurp—a cat licking
its paws
ruby and clear.
moth and cloud
drape over fruit,
make up sparkling nectar.

love is sickening.
you spend five dollars on
a rose at a bar for
a girl you will never see
again.

she will take the flower and
throw it in the trash
outside with the hundreds of
other roses.

no matter.
they have fruit, and fruit
concludes. it is life
cut with claws.
their beauty, seemingly to
be always in the clusters above.

*******, rose. **** your dew.

they seem to say. that’s when
the light hits and microbial
bleeds to miss ruby.

JAZZ!

at night retrains
beauty, makes it edible.
the rose, changing the color
of its dew—black pearl in
this drape of mystery-shaped
night.

I fear.
I fission.
I flow.
like a sponge,
I become aqueous
when wiping blood or saliva.
like a finger, I lose myself in rings of prints.

I am the ography
of space loosely tied to the
end of a carrot. detach me from
ice and I float to the other side of the island.
I wave at ships passing night or day, captains
drunk or sober, buoys clean or covered in mucky ****.

save me.
I am losing my
mind on these stairs
crawling the ceiling, these
riches made of paper, these children
using liters of glue to stick themselves to
each other.

everyone is stuck.
everyone is covered in barnacles.
everyone is design on my pine tree’s needled hooves.

*a horse gallops four at a time. they name it “power” for the dreams it has of stormy women.

you are my animal, and
I am your whip.
what exists between us
is only dust—a milky
center of blood
tessellating
with
heart cells.

I’d hide in your
briefcase and
be smuggled across
the boarder as
a cheese knife
if only you’d look
at me—your animal,
my whip sending
flakes of fresh flesh

midway
along
magnets…but

be careful.
once you catch
crack of my sting

there is no going back.

key into lock
skull-like
iris
blooming
in the corner
vintage red
sipped down
2 liters
of 2006
an amount of
a capacity of
mind
pink
rose
horse out of
water
through mud
moon gallops
across
warzones
couples kissing
and
for a moment
winks in
the horizon
of day