My worst fear to
be traded for fair
for pixie hair, for
long bony fingers
and an affinity for
paint being smeared
on jeans. I am

none

of
those
things.

I am a bit too loud
without trying, and
I promise myself I'll
stay quiet although
I never have. I keep
in mind the things
my father says to
me, that the wise
never seek chances.
If wisdom is sought
I have never had any. I am
too loud without trying, witty
around the edges, with a cornerstone
made of sand.

Once sun rose on his collar
with baubles of champagne
light twisting above his head,
those cherry earlobes, tug tug
seizing forearms, rippling
So he turns his head, and
the world tastes like a
grapefruit lozenge.
I feel like I have been

seen.

Swapping emotions
like jenga blocks, setting
them on top, aside for later
I'm good at trading one feeling
for whatever suits me best, makes
me a bit guilty for ignoring the
issue at hand. Unless it's really
gone? I never quite know when
things are really gone.

How many people have you let read
the words printed on your heart the
chapter monologues tattooed on your
lungs, to dog-ear the pages of yourself
where they stopped but promised to
begin again, spilled hot coffee in the
middle and stained the title. I'm not
entirely sure if anyone has read the
prologue, did you know who it was
dedicated to? Oh, but you lost me
behind your bed, a good read,
no doubt, but I am long with
many pages. Maybe someday
you say, maybe

someday.

those aren't dreams, those are goals*
I stopped using that puny voice
and hiding behind the avocados
in my cobb salad. and who are
you to to define the space between
my fingers, the gaps between my
teeth? Dear Wyatt, feel honored
because for a moment you breathed
my dreams.

I left my
windows
wide open
and every-
thing dried
up, the organs
in the cabinets
the lilies on the
ribs, the weekend
was the worst and
monday is just an
empty cup.

On fire in a bowl of water
he sprayed me with salt and
I burned on the floor,

but today barbed wire faces
told me what to do and
brought me to the house
only I can live in, showed
me doorways only I can enter
and a baby from so long

ago

The first time we
kissed, I thought
your earlobes were
strange. And I still
remember the way
you tasted. A rich,
new, flavor.

robert slept in the back
enveloped in fresh cigarette
with his green sweater hung
over his face and in the front
where we smelled like lotion
and pumpkin hand sanitizer
we tried the lullabies that
were soaked in old lovers
and you invited me over
for dinner, it's so easy
to say that God has
sent me no one
so even if you
do move back
to New York, I
will be able to say
that yes, I made a friend
all on my own and found
that it is so easy to laugh, that
I can be easy to love.

I saw me
in that. I
wonder
if your
pencil
still
draws
the curves
of my lips
and if it
does I
hope
you erase
in vain,
that you
can't deviate
from the way
my
philtrum
caught all
the shadows

He is not unlike Nosferatu, alone in
company, but company nonetheless
better to be alone in numbers than none at all
He will use honey and sugar, the sunlight will assume kingdom on
his face and accede a high place in your heart, you will
love him
and so, above all else he will be
normal


but he is a ghoul, a rust upon your better
half and all your fruits will lay,
white

Il te détruira.

it's strange;
the farther i
get from everyone
i used to know the
more I realize all
the things i thought
I knew about intimacy
are scattered. Despite
the experience I thought
i had, I really have none.

they had it all.

You spent nearly a year
toiling over my love and
I was cooking an omelet
down in the kitchen just
now when the coconut
oil reached up and bit
my hand, when I realized
that maybe it was my turn
maybe it is my turn. I am
not quite so sure what It is that
I
deserve.

men touch me
like auctioneers--
with moist, fleshy hands
sweating for a bite, grazing
my scars with excuses, *******
the succulents on the coffee table
all under the rug with their
dusty presumptions,
hawking beneath
the skylight
with a hunger
for the bedroom
seventyfiveeightyeightyfive

I marveled at
how small her
nose was and
a tongue that
was the size of
a penny, all I
could do was
whisper, shh
I love you
baby, I love
you.

All men are disgusting
(all men aren't disgusting)

I'm buying bananas at the store
trying to find green ones because
I hate ripe fruit (ironic) and an old
man with his wife stops to stare at
my legs. I want to break every banana on the
stand but that would probably turn him on.
Remember Derek? Who told me to *******
when I wouldn't go to the movies with him
you're like every other girl in this town
Well, yeah, maybe, but not every other
girl wants to slam your face into the
cash register at City Market (or maybe they do)
Remember Ty, who called me a ***** for not
wanting to bake thc butter into my brownies
I sincerely hope you overdose on orange juice, love brooke.
I wouldn't call it homicidal, but I want to slash your tires
and ram into your bumper four (or seven) times but my
insurance probably would not cover that.

I was kind of hoping you'd forget
I was kind of hoping you'd remember
I asked stephanie to double check your
birthday so I wouldn't forget, but yesterday
came and went without a single word from
you. It was only then that I realized I still
have a finger's hold on your shirt, a tiny
grasp on your pant leg, but to be sure,
this morning,
I didn't
anymore.

I want to, so I won't
I'm not good enough,
I'm sorry,
eh, it's alright.

for those of us that
think our thighs are
disproportional and
pick at the skin under
our arms in the mirror
who feel the weight of
their belly at night but
no---we are immortal
spirits--what is more
beautiful than
that?

IT'S
YOUR
CHOICE
TOO

you made
german
****

the milky way is around
100,000 light-years across
which means that, traveling
at the speed of light, it would
take 100,000 years to cross
omitting the theory of
relativity.

I've been dreaming about
going far away.

Will you say

Well done

When I stand before you?

Each breath
kept, a warm timbre,
piano chord behind
finches.

when he was
just bean, a
mere potential
for life his mother
wished for a girl
but instead got the
makings of a man

but subconsciously
unhappy she never stopped
wishing and he began to become
undone as his parts became obsolete

the sun made white
slivers on the wood
table and the trees
behind the shades
shivered a little
which made the water
break its reflection across
my fingers. I saw him there
knelt on the abbey floor with
a hand on my knee whispering
about how much he loved me.

rolling through the
waves, beaten by
the undercurrent
blend in with the
black and blue, make
myself a bruise, let the
echo fill me up, a wavering
sonata in between the grains
of sand that chafe against my
cheeks, thrown like a strand
of algae, swept between
the coral castles, the
fish whisper that
it will be alright
but I have heard
that somewhere
before.

occasionally I
live in old
photos.

You used
to be
different.

write me a letter when
you get to Portland, about
the coast and graying ocean
how the fog doesn't burn off
till late morning, your walks
with God in the forest, you
had a revelation at Voodoo
Donuts in front of the gloss
and icing, this is where
the wax melted off in
broad daylight, you
found yourself amidst
strawberries and cream,
orange nectar and peach


Write me a letter when
you get to Portland, tell
me how much you love
it--the greens and grays
and barely-there-blues
off in the distance in
mellow hues


write me when you get there
and leave the letter in the sun
let your evening tea hold the
corners and ring your coffee
between the lines, let me know
when you get to Portland
let me know
let me know
let me know, love.

Find me
and seal
me

in Nordstroms at the Cherry Creek Mall
in Denver, I tried on a gold dress that didn't
fit around my hips (but not many things do,
including your arms or your eyes or your
honesty) and the dressing room attendant
didn't bother to knock before unlocking the
door to tell me that this particular room
wasn't for me, and her eyes, particularly
her boho hat, made me feel like slime,
like a wet body bag, like a sweaty
creature that crawled out from
beneath the hot stones in canon
city and I eagerly shuffled out of
the hall with the gold dress that didn't
fit around my hips (because nothing does)
and the for the rest of the day I saw myself
fitting my skin over inanimate objects and wishing
I could be beautiful.

Oh, i'm far too soft
in a warm beer kind
of way, won't burn
when I go down,
no heart-of-dixie
kind of wild, and I'd
only climb into your lap
when the truck's in park,
and only then just to tease
because my hips probably
do a thing or two--but I've
never had the chance to
let someone in on my
secrets, on the road map
to my thighs, and how I
hardly keep quiet--
but I got bible verses for
fingers although the holy
spirit won't seep through,
know lots of things about
the revival in Wales and not
much out of the log tucked into your
visor-- I'm not as scared as
I seem, just ***** easily, if you'd
just wait, if you'd just wait at the
bottom of the hill, I'll eventually
come down, I give everything
too much thought, but commit
100% when I've got the answers,
and sometimes I do, sometimes
i've got the answers, so the wind's
whipping up the dirt and pickin'
up my hair and i must look like
something crazy, but I'm not
I'm not,


I go down smooth.

I feel like
a lady bug
in a bull's
stead, yes
that's the
way you
make me
feel.

Gaudy necklace still
beneath my pajama shirt,
they talked about things
till three am but i still
woke up at nine and
ate trail mix on the couch,
thinking about how nothing ever
goes the way i want it
too and how badly i just wanted to
kiss someone when the space needle
erupted into a silver sparkle and
brought the new year.

once when I was sleeping, I dreamt
that light flew from my cheeks in
golden strips streaming like lily
banners that fell upon the back of
a loved one, towards the ceiling
they shot off elsewhere into the
dark and it warmed the bones
beneath my eyes like a maraschino
blush and it made me feel as if there
was something
more to me
more to me
more to me