between the slow down
and change of direction
exists a moment in time, in space
in which you aren't going anywhere

we can worry
about what it
means in words
later

you smell like
the colored power
of talcum and pigment and makeup
it smells warm
musty and thick - but warm
it's in between your hairs
and in the palm of your hand
and seeped into the nape of your neck
and I'm so close
it's on me too

All I know is
That I don't get enough iron
I get bruises
From little bumps
I feel like fainting
And my veins hurt
From squeezing blood
All the way down to my feet

home  i'll  don't
i'm  like  just  place  
make  time  feel  feet  today  
little  deep  world

My bones pop
like popcorn
each time I stand.
My body screams
when things
don't go as planned.

But I’m on the train
and so is she
and she gets off
and I stay on -

that’s how trains work.

Lying is
an irresponsible state
of comfort
that we hold very dear

the statued man
the starving man
the burning woman
each needed the river

the statued man needed to the river
to erode and soften him

the starving man needed the river
to drink and live from

and the burning women needed the river
to dive in deep and put out the fire

so the statued man
sunk his feed into the shallow stream
sat and stayed a thousand years
the starving man kneeled
and grappled at the flow
the water rushing through him endlessly
and the burning woman
dove so deep her feet melt with rocks
and the surface forgot her completely

My
anti-viral children
have
porcelain hands and feet

I mean today
went better
than expected

but ****
do I hate
my job

there's sand in my shoes
but
I can't remember the last time I went to the
beach

there's lipstick on my collar
but I simply
can't
recall
the last time
I washed this shirt
to be perfectly
honest
with you

colored lights on **** hill
thick bright bulbs on Castro street
and little glass stars on Font

dots that dance on the wall
glitter thrown into the sky
and the flickering bathroom light

the humble street lamp
two rusty blinking headlights
and the glow of a cellphone

the plan
originally
was to make forever happen
forever
as in
a little while
at least
the plan
of course
couldn't follow through
because of me
but mostly
because of you

I'm just a pile of bones,
leaning deep into my desk,
deep into my computer screen,
the sight is quite grotesque,

for I am just a pile of bones,
with my hollow clinking sound,
as my ribcage xylophone,
sinks slowly to the ground,

I'm just a pile of bones,
so please don't mind the mess,
I promise to pick up my pieces,
right after they all undress,

'cause I"m just a pile of bones,
it doesn't matter where I fall,
scattered across the desk here,
and spread out into the hall,

for this lonely pile of bones,
reserves the right to sleep,
in hopes I'll be put back together,
in the hours I seldom keep.

Pastel paint down a gridded terrain,
square indentation in a porous grain,
snow atop the mountain melts away,
floods the chasm to crumble today,
gone in a flash, its been known,
short-lived is my ice cream cone.

I keep reaching for my throat

I hit my neck
and begin to rub
it raw with repetition.

Geographically speaking, we live very close to each other.


I was a dancer and then I got old.


I carried a muffin tin through curtains of rain and it drummed along with the rhythm of the weather, the atmosphere wrestling the ground.


Grinding sleep out of my eyes. It hurts.