i need this listerine for my bad
breath he said, but i knew better
than to give him a quarter.
he begged me with blue eyes
and every puff we exhaled into
the back bay that grey morning.

i’m here to help
i answered him
and i’ve been there-
at McLean in ART, where the girls
didn’t like me cause my music
was a trigger. but
i pulled through, sometimes
on my own, with help
from a court appointed drug group
(even though i carpooled
every wednesday in a baked
out mini van).

i’m here because day after day
i dragged my spinning
body to the toilet, sun dawning,
to spew bright yellow fluid
into the waiting water.
and i’ve hit the ocean floor:
i used to sniff the bowl to make
the ***** come up faster.
i’d say if i get up again in less than ten
minutes, it’s gonna be a rough day
(but yesterday started this way
and i ended it with a beer
in my hand anyway).

i’m here because when
officer spirito dragged my racing
body through the hallways handcuffed,
because of the purses
missing from the locker room,
i still spent the night on the
closet floor rocking back and
forth, knees to pounding
chest, a hollow
voice on the phone saying i’ll be fine
(but i know that ****’s cut
with ether and i’m gonna
need a hospital).

i told my sponsor
i wanna get clean cause
dope is taking my friends one by
one like bowling pins, and i’m lonely
cause all my ex boyfriends
are still locked up
upstate. she just told me
to pray to god
(but everybody knows
that prayer only works
in emergencies).

i’m here because that relapse
my first year of college got me
pretty close to death. i didn’t know
i could puke that far and
the emts didn’t know
a heart could beat that fast.
but **** the past
and **** the future. i can’t
say much about the rest
of my life, but i can
make sure i’m sober the rest
of this night. you can get through
centuries one hour at a time, so
since i know what you want it for
why would i give you that quarter?

no response except a drop
of spit hung from his silver beard
like a pendulum, and the smell
of the chicken i left to cook
too long inside that soup kitchen.
if i didn’t laugh, i would have
cried the whole
time that he said to me
i need this
listerine, baby,
i need listerine
i need this
listerine for my bad
breath.

this is the finally finished poem that i had uploaded last year as untitled:


wake up inside a faerie
ring, sun probing
between canopies,
a musty odor leaking
out of the Styx, the dark
Master waits in hollow,
aching trees.

from the stumps
he calls to me, he wants me
to play hide and seek.
he can't hear, but he smells
and feels each warm, hungry
step bringing me closer
to the river.

a stew in my chest,
a stake for my shoulders,
i know he is my ancient Master but
i though i was released.
now i drip down like the slugs,
i scoop jelly out
of my eyes and feed it to my children.

like the bite and bark
of a Celtic Oak, i slice off calluses,
stratum by rooted stratum, till
i have a full basket of raspberries.

i just want to slide this naked, dead
weight body across the pointed treetops.

by the light of starving embers, i eat
my knotted hair and cough up muddy ice.
i burn down teepees at night so i can see
the souls of screaming children
rise like red dust to Andromeda.

last night the Acid burned
a hole right through my cauldron,
and when i could see
the other side,
i sat there- speechless, dumbfounded,
at all i had
forgotten:


a ball of mugwort, still aflame,
a purple spiral galaxy,
ten micrograms of safety,
and an echo
that escaped from me
every time i tried to pet it.

when my faith is tested
i recoil into the lurid nest
by moonlight, by the sound of a lyre
whose blood whispers dank currents
into the low hillside.

and over the hillside
pour screaming maenads
who pluck from the damp ground
snakes for their altars.

a timid peak out of my grotto reveals
a crawling sailor scattered on the rocks.
Apollo’s choir releases hymns
from underneath dark sediment.

i am secure inside the den
the man writhes on the shore for help

but even if i let him in,
i will consume his rooted soul,
so he dies one way
or another.

foot
steps

does he really wish to
become absorbed by this
dark cloak? where he will kick
and drool and never again
see rain stretch over the Aegean?
as i have not seen past this
constant haze of lead,
an infinite bang on a finite drum i
played long ago into infinity?

and the swirls
of infinity
shedding outward like the
tresses of a fire haired fae.
a sprinting sugar fae,
the wind inside the hair
outside her head,
blowing behind her.

she dashes through the wood
until her feet fossilize
within the rock below.
one day several naturalists will find
the slabs of granite
and make a map of elegant
collarbone etched into hardened stone.

all the while i will guard this cave, alone.
and if my foes send winds as
messengers, i will saunter in
amusement, with an olive
on my tongue

the wind cannot destroy
the seashore,
the moon and sun
command the tides.

a thirst for the divine inspiration
which is probably hidden
in this coffee bean.

structure & form are reflective of
meaning & function,
so what does that make my body?
what does that make my face?

other people's opinions are always
teasing like they were brushes
and the strands of my hair were days
but the 80s are long gone and
i've got bigger dogs to wrestle.

if you compare a strong mule to a
peeping baby bird
you've wrapped up the history of thought
in two corrosive words.

i want fervently to have hope in my species.
but i walk a path that weaves tight
between compassion & contempt.

if structure &
form are reflective
of meaning & function,
then i am trickling down
with the fresh melted snow,
pouring myself in a muddy stream
filled with silver gold spirals that span
the visible spectrum, elongating & growing forever

just feel this rush of happiness
about the mushroom on my neck
remembering a cold criminal past
as i walk the path of a
sun-kissed, auspicious future

in a field that never ends
in a field that stretches out and
kisses the dirt roads where i used to
conduct my wretched business.
i still visit there,
only now my head's on tighter and
i have numbers in my pocket and
patience for the bus

never knew there'd be so many gains and losses
that came with growing up

but i think i'm getting the hang of it.

woke up in a pile of dead leaves
sun peeking in from canopies
an earthy odor dripping down from above
the dark master waits in the hollow trees.

he is divided among six trunks
he left his ears under a striped rock
i traveled out to meet him when i heard of my demise
all i can do now is watch my flesh rot.

and he calls to me
he wants me to play hide and seek.
he can't hear me but he smells me
and he feels every step that brings me closer to the river.

a fist on my chest,
a knee in my shoulders,
i know he is my ancient master
but i though that i was freed.
now i droop down like the slugs,
i take the jelly out of my eyes
and feed it to my children
i slice off callouses, layer by layer,
till i have a basket of raspberries.

i just want to slide my bare body
across the treetops in this jungle.

i keep eating my hair and coughing up muddy ice
i keep burning down teepees at night so that i can
see the souls of the screaming children
rise like red dust to the three witches.

last night the acid burned a hole through my cauldron
and when i saw what was on the other side,
i sat there, speechless, at the feet of what i had forgotten.
a ball of cotton, still aflame,
a purple spiral galaxy,
3 milligrams of safety
and an echo that escaped from me
every time i tried to pet it.