i'm struggling between
the halves of my soul
that grow out and away
upholding a frayed doctrine
that shudders and trembles
on its string, unable to be
on its own without a divine
voice to soothe the cracks
and speak sweet truths
place definitions over
ragged cuts and
stitch together
stone to stone
with nothing
but water.

I've been twisting apple
stems hoping to come up
on your name, but i've
seen it written every
where else.

we're down to that
point of the year where
I spend a month filled with
anxiety, wondering if I should
wish you happy birthday or leave
well enough (this really is well enough, right?)
alone. Are you well enough? is this well enough?
Are we well enough? Well enough? Well? Enough?

you're the first honest
thing I've had in a while
and I'm keeping myself
at bay because i've been
known to swim too fast
or never get cold, i'm
calling you Michigan
in my head because
I like the way it
comes off my
heart, my apologies
are real, I just don't know
how to act, I've gotten too
good at having tact, because
my silence goes up as walls and
I'm sure we could be friends, but

but

I've been known for swimming too
fast or never getting cold, never getting
cold, never getting

cold.

i remember
all your scars
even the ones
on the inside
the ones you
tried to hide

am i still your
rose or just another,
one of the many who
blushed in lieu of the
little prince's words.

I am going to school
to teach myself when
no one is teaching me

i wrote in my diary:
where are you? where
are you? I click on pictures
half-expecting them to be
yours, with the full intention
of looking. Hey, how are you
doing? How many people have
you kissed? I try not to dream
about you anymore but we all
know how that goes.  I'm making
new friends, just thought you should
know. We used to tell each other everything,
why should I stop now? Both parties do not
need to be present for a vote, not for this vote.
not for this vote.

not for this vote.

too often i am
scared of the
love I will
not have
on some
days

And furthermore, why do
I have to be so mean? why
do I have to be so selfish? why
do I have to say such awful
things? I really am horrible
and not even the worst
person deserves my
company.

really,
all you
have to do is make me laugh
the kind that is so sudden you
have to cough, as if the force of
unexpected happiness was all
too
much.

You are too
crowded for
me

I'm not
entirely
sure you
will bring
May flowers.

I said, "I hate how I open-mouth
breathe when I sleep, pretty girls
sleep with mouths closed." and
you replied that the way I slept
melted you down to your core.

My grandmother wakes
before the sun and talks
to God, I wonder if he is
listening and answering

we threw down
with clenches and
all I could think about
was how good you
smelled when i
hit elbows first

he put himself there
because I let him and
left because he could
and the explanation
he forgot to give
has enough
salt unsaid.

on a north dakotan winter
they hide up high -- heat rises
but not on a rig, he takes it with him--
you've seen a farmer save a calf
kneel into a half foot of snow
and fold the babe into his coat --
he takes the warmth and kneads it in,

his hands rough as hell but reach for you like you was
made of clay, like he fixin' to touch you but too scared

so he takes heat up like that, like it precious
and he's the sheath, he travels up the steel backbone with cords
and vitals o'erflowing,
the land is blue and black and glowing

the moon's a dusty desk lamp and he's not the
flying type -- meetin' place said porch light,
dim lantern, sunset. This cold is cruel and he the
only one that know what it does, and you can't
heal with no bloodflow.

have we lost the moon to moths?
you've heard why they gather 'round --
floodlights ain't the real deal,
neon's just the same, campfires barely
warm,
this way is just a false summit
as honorable as all this seems --

have we lost the moon to moths?
i hardly know, she's still there
there's not enough proof we can
navigate on our own.

my dad speaks to the
birds in the evenings
while he trims the
grass--if you stand
in the doorway
hidden by the
cabinets, you
can hear
them
speak
back.

i ran away today
I guess that's a cliche
but I did; got in my
car and drove two
hours to Colorado
Springs because
I couldn't stand
my own thoughts
got out amongst
the people so I
could hear
theirs instead

for the first time
I was a little scared
to go

home.

we so worried about
bein' left or how little spaces
are even bigger with just us
the way
er'thing looks starin'
at our backs in the future
'cause we spend the days
hopin' someone'll stick
close, and when they ain't or aren't
we rubbin' sticks together
watchin a lot of TV and stars
things are alright
already, we ain't dying or
nothin', got clothes and food
just like that bible scripture
but one question always
on our minds-- why are there
so many people, then?

why there so many people, then?

I hope she has my hair
I hope she has my hair
that when her curls fall
across your face you hear
my voice, my sigh, a laugh
that when her curls fall
across your face you hear
my voice, my sigh, a laugh

there was once a group
of girls who used my name
as a verb, and the boy I loved
smoked **** with them and
forgot about the times I cried in his
arms asking what I did wrong to anyone.

i get lost in the
valleys but You
always bring me
to a clearing

It's strange how I used to
trust you so much and every
other word that came out of my
my mouth was Chris would never
do that but I was never snide about it.
Always with a smile.  Back then I could
touch your skin without flinching and
it didn't feel like you were bruising
my shoulders when you kissed
them. But now every silence
is a joint  every phrase
is a lie, and I can't
bring myself to
believe that
anything
you say
is the

truth

They hung chimes in my soul
and told me not to make a sound

how long did I love you?
yesterday Chuck just said
stop,  because I told him
about that green trellis dream
and the one where I chased you
through Nepal, and he leaned in
close and smiled at me the way
he does when he's about to cry
and told me to let go, just


let



go



















so i did.

Your voice always sounds
A little deeper across an hour and five minutes
Through wetmore and up hardscrabble
You say you've been trying a little less
That's okay, I think.  I'm so different to you and
You're so different to me, you say maybe I've never loved and I recall how weightless Chaz felt on top of me on his sheet-less mattress and
wondering if love would always feel this way--quick and dry, as if i
were a speedtrack and him a flippant driver burning rubber
and spilling his load on the side of the road.

you can always say no to me
What I meant is if you kissed another girl and
Started that long descent, falling for some irresistible wile--
I would know that you were finally touching someone who might know what she wants

If it's meant to be, it'll happen.
You're explaining something about the plant in Salida, chocolate chip cookies, Bulls. Your voice is gravelly and tired and about us--you begin, with a pause.

About us, about us.  

before you even hang up I'm considering
The dynamics of waiting and patience and changing,
have a good night, dakota. I say it twice, you've already
confronted my fear of losing you.

we had ***.
you said
'thanks for the experience'

there are places i
want to                               go
and places I want to
see oh please god won't
you grant at least some of
this wishes                  for

  me

i a m
s    o
scared

I sometimes wonder
if the reason I can't
love myself is because
I only loved myself through
your eyes and you never saw
a single flaw.

can you see
the candles
f  l  i c k e r
through my
sidelights, I
am trying to
let that light
shine before
them.