maybe i want pain
because i am good at it
like wallowing
and going through a cycle
of fear, sadness, anger, empowerment
re-discovering myself
finding my own joy
done it so many times that
it's expected
so
when you offer me another kind of joy
i hang my head and don't answer
and you think
whatever it is
whatever conclusion you come to
i don't know
i don't give you anything
pretend i'm having a good time
until you get sick of it and leave
and it's too late
and the suffering is cold comfy familiar
always

the beautiful thing about infants
is they speak no language
yet everyone understands.

the Maasai people
eat mostly blood and milk
after a certain age.
a man we met
showed us his sleeping father
claiming his father was
one hundred and eight
years old
the man under the blanket
looked tiny and fragile
a tangle of bird bones
I could have lifted
in my arms.

dung beetles
are my favorite beetle
because I feel like
giggling
when I see one.

there is blood
all through the inside of your body
red and
wet and
bright
each cell a message
carried carefully

the people here
seem most at home
in brightly colored clothing
fierce men casually strut in hot pink
women weave maroon and mustard yellow
into their hair
the deepest skin
brings to life
the most saturated of shades.

I want to
fill the empty parts of people
when I am around them
and take these parts with me
when I leave
so that
people will be unable
to exist
without me
(power)

I am proud
to be
an American Woman.

warthogs
trot by
with their tails
in the air.

We have only a short time
We have

He said
My oufit was
Basic
It was an insult
You are supposed to be
Yourself
As long as you remain
Different
You are supposed to prove
Authenticity
By making decisions based on
What other people
Are doing

a man living in a Samburu village
must have strength and grit
a young man will be circumcised
in front of other villagers
he must hold dignity through the pain
lock every muscle
completely still
if he so much as winces
he will bring disgrace upon his family.

when a man comes of a certain age
people make it their business
to find him a wife
if the man is traveling
in a nearby village
and happens upon a delightful young woman
he must bring this news
back to his parents
who will make the decision.

if the parents agree
he will supply the young woman
with gifts of:
one camel
four or five goats
and seven or eight cows
unless the woman is special
then she might receive
two camels.

once a man is settled
with his first wife
he may find more wives
sometimes up to eight wives
or more.

each wife may bear about five children
while the children are young
the man may not know
the names of the children
or which mother they came from.

the goat was completely alive
and then it was completely lifeless
if there was an in-between
I could not tell where it ended
or began.

I am surprised I can remember
the smell of you
how sweet and fresh and neon
like the space that was filled by it
how close our faces stayed
how long did we last
how I didn't want to leave
how we could have stayed and grown filthy
like your floor
if we had remained
our mouths may have done too much
my teeth may have turned the color of your hair
your skin may have become
layered

your bones should have crushed mine
but instead we grew supple
I thawed like ice
you floated down me
mud mixed into the water
bears and elk bathed in us
and the surface became clouded
with dark fur and foam
you sunk your head and tasted
the blood of the elk and the ***** of the bear
I remember your hands were still smooth and soft
and I was not afraid but still shuddered
like a tiny animal

the east path cut out through
the blackberries and nettles leads back there
so does the trail of raisins from the south
and the thunder clapping coordinates from the north

I gathered my things and headed west
where I won't feel the porcupines on your chest
or see the dappled forest floor in your eyes
the river coursing through this place
has no elk or bears
the lips of the boys here taste of smoke and wet cement

now I remain
clean
alone
nestled in my own beauty
like a goldfinch preening
not one of the fat sparrows that
hopscotch on these sidewalks

I know what you're doing
I know her eyes are growing crusty
your hands make knots out of her hair
your bodies grow tired from the rhythm
of pressing together
her feet are bigger than mine
her smile glossier
you will not find otters living behind her ears

Perhaps I will see you anyway
in the winter I will wear a charcoal snowcoat
you will lift me from behind and I will squeal in surprise and delight

Outside my window people sing hymns on the street.

I want fast
fast and all-in
and then completely over
like the trailer
of an action film
like the crash
of a jet plane
like a man
spearing a fish
in the belly
I want fast
like a dream
you are flung
into a canyon
flames on your skin
and you wake up
inches before you hit
you wake up
panting

majesty of mine
raise your bejeweled head
let me live you
the ocean of my eyes will shimmer
with the pearls you place there

her belly is on the concrete
the sun makes her
glow
softer than the water
she is bored
she does not acknowledge
the great gift the light has given the world
by reflecting
off her body

I can't decide
whether to
cut
the splinter out
or wait
for it to
heal over.

I like the way
lizards
shimmy up the wall.

She is too kind to me
And never seems too careful
She must think I am cut even
She must be blind to the stripes behind my hair
I forget the dark locks that crown her lovely face
She does not ask me any questions
But gazes
Will address two topics
Two only!
The mountains and the shut-down
She is too familiar
She is too close to saving a part of myself I thought was lost
All the work to retrieve it alone
But quick smiles are so enticing
I could give into it
Let her take me to coffee
Ground the space behind me
I don’t really want her
That voice so easy in my head
They all say she speaks in sweet music
I could learn to depend on coffee
But I am not lost
(Perhaps)
But she is shaped like the other one
I thought I’d lost

The words have left my head
The words used to slide through my fingers
Now I simply sit
on a blue couch
Thin spread velvet, with strips of dark
Shaggy beside me, warm and white
The fluff of his fur, morning delight
I sent my sister links to dresses
Fashioned by snotty-nosed children
And class is done, class is over
And four hours to go and class is over again
And work is over, and work comes again
I dream of airplanes
Thrusting into the dawn air, at first cutting a line
Like the ten of swords out of the sky
Then curling, wings falling over themselves
Somersaulting into clouds, cold and white
Cumulus fluff, morning delight
A pilot, in control and out of control
And in control again
Always curving, sailing, glinting
Occasional apprehension of fatal mistakes
Fatality, fatality
Life sliding out of you like the words
Paint me sky blue with dark strips
Dress me in white fashion
Somersault me through the sky

a male lion
lay motionless
in the shade.
his fashionably disheveled mane
and swollen belly
gave me comfort
until he
opened his
eyes.

waking up
among the painted antelope
and the wildebeests
streaming up the hillside
and the gnarled knees
of an ostrich
and the glassy yellow eyes
of a lion
is something
we should all experience.

I am delivered by
the girl in the pink overalls
smiles of danger
glimpses of roses

grab yourself a glass and
find a seat
we got work to do

unbuckle your seatbelt
I am learning how to live
without a ****** up mind
I am learning what it is
to be well-designed

in our room
she watches beauty videos
sponsored by beauty sellers
there is so much you can put on your skin
while I hide you in the pages
of my schoolbooks
eat ahead
(chocolates behind paper doors)
and ponder
the back and forth motion of the life
the sea, the sun, the ***, the wind
the back and forth that has no end
and you are back
and my whole life is back
I wait for it all to come forward again

For a solid three hours the world is gold.
Every streetlamp is an angel;
the red traffic light is unparalleled in its vibrancy.
Whatever may have been pleasant before
dazzles you now.
The temperature of the air is in harmony with
the temperature of your body.
The trees are what they always were and
you somehow never noticed the glow of light passing
through a maple leaf;
you never quite enjoyed the complexion of the air.
When people talk to you it is easy to forget
that they cannot feel it also.
When you dance to celebrate every cell of your body
they stand back and watch you.
If you listen to yourself you know exactly what you need to do,
if there is a particular song that will sound like melted silver.
You are an excellent navigator of your world as long as
you avoid those who are not living in it with you.
In the morning you wonder
if your experience of life has been tainted.
Whenever something beautiful happens you will know
it is not as perfect as it could be.

here there is a layer of dust
beneath the air
it settles into our nostrils
under our fingernails
into the creases of our foreheads

boys kick it up with soccer *****
girls carry it beneath their *******
houses hold it with their roofs
the trees are at one with it
the sun is hazy

it is difficult to sing
but we try

i wish
he would be my friend
again
but he does not call
and he will not answer
i wait
as the snow builds itself
into the pavement
i wait
while my mind ties itself in knots
don't want to spend
every moment
in your world
just want the option
not to be alone

you would not have jumped on your own

you can remember your toes
gripping
the cliff's edge
you can remember his hand
pressed into yours
how firm it had seemed
how sure you had been
if there was doubt
you did not listen

you do not remember jumping
just glassy eyes mixed calls hot confusion
you forgot how it felt to be
safe inside only yourself and now
you are falling
and you scream:
How Did I Get Here

the hand that was pressed into yours
is not there
you do not know
exactly when the fingers
uncurled and slipped
away
you search the sky
rushing past
you can see his colors but
not his face
as you plummet
you realize
he is flying

the darkness catches you like a net
it swings itself over you
the thickest brush of sumi ink
the softest blanket the womb
it is still but
you are throbbing
there is a tiny needle in the center of your chest
a red halo is formed
tender like a splinter
you do not understand it
you are afraid

there are beautiful people everywhere
but you do not see them
you know he is flying so
you do not look up
instead
you bury yourself into the dark and
wait
you hold your own hands
they are warm and calloused and familiar

days and days and days

melody begins to
trickle
into the darkness
you don't know
if it is coming from inside of you
or outside of you
the music brushes the side of your face
you nudge it away
more persistent it grabs you
from behind
playfully
you snarl and swing around
you are standing in the daylight

the music grows and
you follow it and follow it
and when you get there you realize
you have forgotten his name
and can recall your own

jeweled eclipse
a hole that splits
the universe rips
into pieces
patch together
the folds your t shirt
shoulder sleeve holes
tender skin
leave again
the seasons change
you are so bright/I cannot see your shadow
leaves somersault
into darkness
your chair is empty

I like the
deep color
of their skin
crafted
from soil
and wind.
these people are
powerful
enough to carry
the sun
inside
their bodies.

I close my eyes and sit up almost straight enough
Count to four and eight and seven
Slowly sink to the wider blacker bottom
Feel butter soft and pleasant
And ask if I really deserve to feel
Sink into bliss forever and forget

Good morning I’m a visitor in your world
Do you even have mornings here
I didn’t mean to intrude
What are you doing for the greater good
What are you doing for the greater good

Nothing so far I’m doing nothing
But sitting and not listening
And not listening for most of my days
How do I help them, all they do is change

A certain time was allotted to him
I took all his harsh qualities and embodied them
I’m selfish and insecure and sorry
It’s okay it’s okay honey don’t worry

What are you doing for the greater good
If they sit shoulder to shoulder all the wars end
I can and I will and I would
Be a better me and a better friend

Life brought you into my life
You brought me into your head
I brought you into my bed
You brought me to your table
Life took you out of my life.

the people here
have no illusory separation
from their land

small, bare-armed boys
pause from herding goats
to glance over

I am in the right place
but it is not my place
I belong in this place
but I do not belong to this place

A woman sits at a wooden table
Elbows on the trailing lace tablecloth
She takes a silver spoon
She mixes sugar into coffee
And glances at the plump yellow moon.

"Where is the snow?"
She asks a mouse
As it slides under her arthritic feet,
Disappearing between two floorboards.

There is a bundle of letters beside her.

With a sigh she selects a quill
From a deep desk drawer
And dips it in sloppy ink.
She writes:

The night spreads its cloak around my house
I have no use for the day
When the moon draws my feathers out
They sprout
From my skin
Gold-tipped and I always knew
I always knew they were there
I knew all along
You will miss the way my songs
Always ended in a whisper
My sleep always ended in a deep set chest pang
Your hand was soft at the back of my neck
And I no longer have use
For the skin
That keeps this rage in
That keeps this jealousy in
I will spit it into the snow
So the light inside me can grow
And you will see only
The resilient flutter of my wings
Outside your window.

It is the last letter.

With delicate, bony fingers
She pulls the strings about her envelopes
like a spider weaving a web

Glancing once more through the window
she smiles as the first graceful snowflakes
descend from the sky
takes her bundle outside
and tucks it away

In the morning a bird is seen
fluttering quietly out of sight;
it may have been a trick of the light.

My backside hugging the grass cushion
His face above mine
Flushed like a child

Quick motion
He somersaults over my stomach
Landing awkwardly on the other side

Distracted boyish grace
Has my eyes closed
Has me frozen, like the seed I lay waiting

when you eat
too much dessert
you feel sick

there is still a taste
in my mouth
that does not belong to me.

Star street Mickey Mouse
lemon balm ice cream jellyfish in jars
Distance Hollywood
Feed the homeless skip the bars

She finds a sidewalk square claims it her own
And we come back years from now
To assess it
Menus on the boardwalk spend too much
We’re stressin

stress is sneaky
it grabs you from the back
pulls you
out of your skin
muscles grow tighter as
you grow less aware of them
brain clenches
stress will try to
compress you
shock and overdrive
in the name of production
things need to
get done.

when you stay
because you are afraid of losing what you had
you do not lose
the past
you lose
the future.

be brave.

there is a girl I
love
but don't really know
she is always
bent
over the table
her hair is
ash brown unbrushed
it creates a frazzled
blanket
over her head
sometimes she lifts up
for a second
makes some cynical remark and
giggles
and puts her head back down
in a sea of runway wannabes
in manicured eyebrows
and dior shoes
she wears
tattered sweatshirts and
not a smudge of makeup
when you are beautiful
you do not need to be
pretty

He said that I was the day
And you were the night
You nodded, I was flattered
But then
You were unprepared for my sun to set
The darkness behind my eyes
Full of galaxies
You would not allow yourself to see
Friend of mine
Let me revel in your light
Let yourself dance in my darkness
I didn’t know how to say it
So you pulled back in disdain
Afraid to see the mysteries unraveling in me
Said I was weak
For weeping
‘Cause you were born with
A steel throat and steel behind your eyes
Life is a blaze
You thrash through the world
Believing so strongly that you are in control
Unattached
Iron beneath your skin
You wanted me to be light
You wanted to take a feather
From my wings
To brush your skin on mine
Take it with you into the black
So unprepared were you for the sunset, the galaxies, the dancing
That I may not be flying above you
But sliding beneath
Ever soft, in love with my own night
You are afraid to accept all that I could give
Will never see my sunrise
‘Tis a shame: how lovely it will be!

inside of his stomach
there is a furnace
but you don't notice it
when you put your hands on him
you feel only a dull warmth
which you mistake for
blushing
someday I will accidentally see
the pain in your eyes
I will not recognize his face behind them
only feel a jolt of nostalgia
if I could only find you now
take you by the shoulders and tell you
impish smiles are not worth it
and you're better off
unless
you're
different
how can I love that for you

I had a dream
you and I stood leaning over
a wooden railing
gazing at the ocean
the scene was colored like
a vintage movie
and the wind was
playing with our hair
you smiled at me and
I touched you
it felt like a future.

Leaves rustle like paper
I saw his body lump
over a street heater
I heard his voice cutting through the air

Halfway from the crosswalk,
a warm section of sidewalk
The lopsided blanket, he said,
was the roof over his head

So I sat with them
late that night
while one finished his joint
and the street grew quiet

He said the obscenity
came from his culture
He said his life
was all past and no future

I know that
we are from
different worlds
but
perhaps
we can
create one.

what if
you're just
an idea?

When I awoke
In the back of his car
I closed my eyes for
The fifteenth, hundredth time
Was afraid of splintering supernovas,
Smashed metal
Was afraid for my body
Was afraid of the heat center in my chest
Watched the rain watercolor tones of grey
On the car windows
Encapsulated, fetal
Wound still raw
Body shaking with affection
Trust and damp windows
Mellow and trust
Trust and music
Grey-toned streaming
Grey-toned banner way
Unwashed hair
Tender smiles
Car ceiling
Promises

part of me really digs this place
the straw roofs and whitewashed walls
the girls in their long painted skirts
the sand in the arches of my feet
the internet's up you try to tell me things
the seeds hanging from the lamp
every ant crawling up my shirt that Annette
with her tiny hands tried to brush off
tea in the morning, tea in the evening
when I grow up I shall live
in a tea palace