Minnows **** the throb out of my eyelids
where I jumped in the great pond and was filled with brine
each fleck, a pebble for them to slurp like soup.
I will remember this moment by the clothes I wore
take it out on yellow ruffles, navy strata
hung attractively on metal shelves but would faint if I were
to wear either once again. The accessories were similar.
Had a fish unbuttoned my blouse he would see
buttons where another female’s ******* would coarsen.
All I had meant to do was water a plant, feed the fish
but their container had grown wool:
I must dive in! It is better to drown than consult a quiet god.
Upon arrival, I realized that this was like entering
another species’ bloodstream. The waves sway your torso.
No wonder these blankets have become pink.
Behind is a freshwater sea, accustomed to the float but not
the dreaded sting. I have even drowned a few times:
I shall curse the flounder who resuscitates me at bottom.
it is exhausting to love something
too far to touch
& like their body is made of glass
when you see it
you are afraid it will crack
but they insist on making you sore
they know what
you want & what you like
even if it means risking their neck
& like you are a house of worship
for a quiet man
he has no name but loves
how you make it sound
on the base of your throat, redness
when you know he has cut you &
gave you something only to
take it away
as soon as you see how exhausting
needing it is.
You never told me your wish
so I do wonder
if I am making it come true
scavenge for your sweet hands
pin them, bite the freckles
I do not just want you
inside of me
I want to digest you and
what you want.
The blonde rain
little daisies from angels say
you love me, love me not
you love me like a stone
we did not skip
but sheltered in a wooden box
plastic holes as skylights.
waiting for Jina;
can't write poems
till he comes back
Endless cars rush by the window
in flashes of silver, black, and white
and almost like clockwork
the bus stops just outside
in regular intervals
and endless people
hobble by the window
in flashes of middle, lower, and no class
and outside the addicts
try to turn the very air they breathe
into gun metal blue
puffs of cigarette smoke
and inside people read newspapers
and try to talk,
over the rough din
of coffee machines competing with
beautiful jazz trumpets and saxophones
and there's an old black man
and a slightly less old white man
they are friends, and they sit next to me
talking about money and work
and how they wonder
if Joe ever moved into his new place
and it made me wonder too
the old black man
has his eye on an old
antique Spanish coin
he's just waiting for the price to go down
and there are people
their faces obscured by the screens of their laptops
who flutter between
their work and social media
there's an energy about the place
that we all seem to share
as if we are all a part of a bigger community
even if we don't recognize it
just a rag tag group
of transient people
who don't really have
anywhere else to be
September speaks in dull sand flecks
and billowing my stiffened skirt to kneecaps
rested on for prayer, grinded on for ***.
It pokes and I’ll awake –
I am just like a ***** in the autumn morn
first torn, the first born of a hundred
encounters of which I would not believe
it could be the opus of.
Ladies lose physical barriers, but they
do not evade a September when orchards are
trimmed and all that’s beneath is unveiled:
see it with my glass eye. No dust inside.
See it with your honey bulbs –
the foothills, the knees married to the floor
where stars first aligned, so I ****** you off.
Don't until you are big
Don't until you are old.
Too much fun will spoil you dear
Too much fun will haste the grave
They say, they said
You can party when your older
Party when you're near dead.
Now we are up and now we are old
The songs we sing are the same
From so long ago.
Put your children back to bed
The night is for grown-ups
Acting like kids again,
They say, they said
The night belongs to us
Human hearts and animal heads.
I know I said I could live off of
Crumbs of your love,
But I'm a man looking for more
Than fish food.
What can we sustain
Living off these flakes?
Is hidden beneath the clay
But even here you scrape for me.
Cover me, Cover me back up
I can't stand breathing
Leave me to my mud.
Put me back Put me back
I made friends with the worms
Found a home in the world.