There’s a 55 gallon drum
in my yard beside the deck
half full of empty bottles
black ashes from burned poems
worthless words, regrets, bad
checks, the busted up scorched
bridge of Kurt Cobain’s Martin D-18E
half finished lyrics, melted Nirvana
vinyls, suicide notes charred and scared
every-bit as sincere as when written.

From time to time
I sit outside
and watch the night sky
deep in its shadow
and dreaming
of a dusky woman
with black hair
and a sequined dress
riding high on her thighs
until my eyelids
grow dark
from the starlight.

Once I used to drink
with this girl who told me
we could live on an island
if I never touched her

she had this way with words

sit at the foot of my bed
she said, like a ghost

watching the boat in the cove
lose hope for its shadow

these days she hides
behind the shades
still wanting me to find her

somebody to love.

I don’t know how to feel because the silence is buzzing too loud and I get ear infections really easily but you didn’t ask me if it hurts because I’d rather hear you scream than ignore me and next time I tell you it’s okay maybe you should ask again because I’m really good at pretending and I’m really good at changing the topic to things that don’t matter like my windows that I always leave open because I like to hear the rain and the storms and everything falls down and my mom gets mad and my fan is really loud so I keep it on so I forget that I’m alone but none of that really matters because I’m too busy anyway and I’m not even home so it’s not like I notice when you don’t respond and when the power goes out and you’re not here to protect me from the monsters under my bed and inside my head but it’s not like I asked you to so why would I even be upset when you don’t notice my big bruises and scratches but I don’t like attention so why do I want yours because it’s not like I’m dependent sometimes it’s just too quiet

"where love is a ghost and a star"

play with me,
loosen my hair,
let me sing to
you a sea song
where the waves
somersault and
crash to the shore,
where the wind, wild
as wild, faints to breathe
in the darkening sky.

Wipe your eyes, my baby
Marlboro and shotgun casings
Pound piano keys and feel it in your bones, this fear you’re facing
Because Debussy can’t take away the sound through unsubstantial apartment wall spacing
Of neighbors screaming, growing skill in the use of debasing words
We’re growing sage to burn alongside the memory of heart-breaking firsts
That didn’t bring any fulfillment or remaining seconds and thirds
We are witches, searching for potions to provoke hard spells
To forget these troubles which were heard from the mouthpiece of hell
Our black cats and crooked hats don’t hide the fact
That these highs don’t last
And soon we will remember why we left yesterday’s December behind
Ice crackling softly in window panes becomes enough to remind us why—
These things don’t leave the solitary, unhinged mind
When there’s nothing else to replace what was once chased
On agonizing below-zero winter days
So wipe your eyes, my baby
Wipe your eyes
This won’t heal, not like the bullet wound and cigarette addiction
That you always lose
(And somehow manage to re-find).

milky way
provide a way to consign mischance behind to them who stray
earth is but a minor stain in lightyears’ expanse of stratospheric disarray

I’d love you violently if I had you
I’d watch your violets turn to dust and seem like new
(Until I had you)
The ones you left behind with your ever-seizing dialogue
This is a mere apocalyptic log in which
I tear apart those moments before turning crazy
I went crazy for
you,
your dead violets
and like petals—strewn, your
disconcertingly
violent mind.

sugar-drunk,
i was looking at you
to remember when life was just slow dances, expanses
of time
when we laughed, when I didn’t eulogize forgotten guys,
then, I saw no one but you
super drunk,
i was looking at you
just looking at you