i think of kentucky when i think of love~
of who we were before
not because of him,
or what i what i thought was happening up above
i think about you standing there, in the library door
or about how intensely i stared at your floor when
i was working up the courage....
i think about how i missed him every single day
                                                 everything was grey
then you played your accordion
and it all went away
                                            *kentucky has the greenest grass i've ever seen
                                                            ­     ~
i begged you away from the edge of the roof once.....
whiskey was heavy on your breath and
the world was heavy on your chest and
you sat next to me and
you didn't jump
i really thought you might....

it was one of the only times
i ever felt like a useful human being in this
                                      whirling winding world of poetic energy
                                                  and compassionate synergy,
                                                        
       ­                                                (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

so.... if talking you away from edges of roofs,
if warmly burrowing in your truths,  
makes me feel like a useful human being in this
                               whirling winding world of self-inflicted lethargy
                                                     and romantic anarchy,

                                                       ­              ok

"you're the sky sky, the gem in my eye"
i smile
because in a way you're right,
but you have no idea who I am
and i'm  t i r e d  of  p l a c a t i n g  raging men at ungodly hours

while proclaiming how much I’d love to ride the curls of your careless
             whispers into the black night
                                                       I really would like to admit that
I’d rather be lying in my twin futon
                                                            (alo­ne)((without you))
                                                           ­                                         or dreaming....

and i’d tell you that if could
                                    i would.......

but i just                 can’t            seem                     to breathe
cause you keep on keep on keep on *******         
                                             ­                   kissing          
                                                                ­   me

i, a textilian*,
politely clambered up the faces of mountains
as the valley revealed herself to me
her ready desert face, waiting
to be devoured by ravenous, wandering eyes
the nape of her neck, her chest, her thighs,
slowly~ and all at once

but i, the textilian, drowsily slipped under soft shade
it was only a brook but, it felt like a wave
and the deep creek carries me away,
then brings me back, to this sacred place....
it is nice to wake up to the sun
in your face

until slowly, and all at once, i was awake
and my clothes were on the ground
letting sweet redemption crawl back into my pores
beneath that sky, between those rocks
giving my self away
no mystery, just us three
just hello

hence i, the ex-textilian,
like a newly-molted reptilian
more like an undressed chameleon
in all my ecstatic toughness and alcoholic delirium
have learned more about what it is to be naked
than i've known since i was born
slowly~ and all once

i cannot tell you who i am
because then that will mean
i am everything i am not

i am reminded again of why i hate hospitals,
                                        especially when there alone.

maybe it's the scuffed floor or ugly upholstery of the chairs,
             or the doctors half-attention,
             or the way everybody stares,
             or the way i try not to....
             or  the way that one guy just needs to ask me what book i'm reading.
"it's... well, it's a book about these writers who are deceived into isolation
    and they write all  these stories of life and desperation"                              
              (he doesn't actually care)
              i hide in my hair.
              at least we tried to have a conversation....
              and then we just sit there,
              until she calls the next patient.
              i hope i'm next.

i am reminded again of why i hate hospitals,
                                       especially when there alone.

maybe it's the stale air up against the smell of warm blankets,
             or being fully clothed but feeling totally naked,
             or being wheeled around to some other location,
             or that being wheeled around kind of feels like
             a ****** up vacation....
             (you just get to lay there)
             ((and be numb))
but i think it's the way she rubbed that gel **** all over my tummy
                                                                     and that when i say tummy,
                                                                     i don't feel like a woman i feel like
                                                                     a baby
             and the way those plasticky tools let her see right through me
             and the way men just do not know what to do when
             women are bleeding
the nurse named jeff asks me, "oooh, which palahniuk?"
  "it's... well, it's the one about twelve writers who fall into the clutches of
      this crazy guy who locks them all up! this story's about guts n stuff,"
              "nice," he weirdly smirks,
and thankfully gets back to work.
jeff touches my arm a little too much,
and i didn't really want him to have my blood,
and maybe that's just vain stuff
but the conversation was... good enough...

and i am reminded again of why i hate hospitals,
                                            especially­ when there alone.

only got mister palahniuk*
trapped in a purple book,
this paper-bound blood work,
to keep me company.
i lay back with the iv drip next to my bed
as i sweetly surrender to his gory head....
this book, it's called haunted.


*i wish i had chuck's guts ~ literally and figuratively,
he has no ****** and incredible creative bravery.

once i was told
by a man,

                   oh wait. i don't care.

my dear dear  d e a r  boy.... .. . ..

her eyes are pretty
her smile is wide -- & white,
just like yours
she's tall, she's slim, and
she takes good photos of you on her instagram
her small brunette bun is annoying....................ly cute
her little legs & little arms too
i'm sure it looks like something out of a magazine
when they are wrapped around you...

another hip kid from some northeast city
little Connecticutie~
did she know about me?
does she know that you live right down the street?

she hid behind your shoulder
that's how i knew
that she is in love with you, too
& it feels like someone shoved a grenade down my esophagus
and i'm just  w a i t i n g  for it to ******* in a billion bits
so i can just get over this

and then all the dads will bring their little girlies
and all the ladies will raise their strawberry daiquiris
eyeing the loose shards of my dignity
hoping that they could somehow help with their jaded seniority
going,                                  "lesson number one:
                                     love is never  always fun."

1.
i know how                                 to feel joy when you feel blessed
                                                      to love you from this side of my LA fence
i knew how                                 to fall in love with you
                                                      to over-use my grin with you

i don't know how                       to be in love with you

2.**                                        
i know that falling in love means                         you like it when they call
                                                            ­                                  and then you're all
                         c           u         h                
                               a           g          t          u p....

i know that falling in love means                     specialized tic tac valentines
                                                      ­                        customized tactical be mine's
                                                          ­                                     and then you're not
                                                      ~so tough~

3.
i know that love is                                              breakfast in bed, and coaxing  
                                                       ­           the bad thoughts out of your head....
                                                        ­       sending them somewhere else instead
i know that love is                                                            lay­ing yourself down
                                                            ­                                                  finding rest
                                                            ­        ....not treating everything like a test

4.
and i know that   the fact that    i keep tripping over and into your shadow
                                                        &  re-attaching it to your feet so
                                                         you don't feel so alone,
                                                         has left me in the dark                  
falling in love was easy
because it's exactly that
falling                                          in the name of "us"
flailing                                         in the name of........whatever gets you off

             (losing your balance is easy when you forget to hold yourself)

5.
                                  i am guilty of being especially curious
                              so i hopped on over to your side of the fence,
                                       and i didn't feel "that togetherness"
                              ......isn't that part supposed to be the best?

6
                                              so, i just don't know how                                                                                        to be in love with you

i am a runaway

i forgot to bring my toothbrush

i left my mother
because i had to leave my father
i left my sisters
because i had to leave my brothers

i don't use toothpaste because of fluoride

i deserted my sorrows,
so i could grow new ones
i let them plant seeds
became tumbling little weeds

i forgot to floss

but they were mine
and so were you
and you
and you
until you weren't

menthol makes me nauseous

i still curse your name when there is no one around
i can still taste your stale lies
rising like sewage
lodging between the cracks in my teeth

my jaw grinds in my sleep

some people claim halitosis is not a real condition
those people don't know what it's like
to be left alone,
with a belly full of acid,
tobacco on your tongue,
and a mouthful of anger

past simple praise:
he loved me
but he loved his pain more

i pulled him into the bathroom once, it was dark
his warm fingers gently plucked at my heart
for some time
the way we kissed was art

his rhetoric far surpassed mine
every time
he asked me how my day was,
i proceeded to word *****
i talked about the most useless ****
when i asked him about his,
i got a shakespearean ******* sonnet

present perfect pain:
i have never been good at thinking things all the way through
and that is why i've fallen so deeply for people like you

i have always found myself
in the middle
actually born
in the middle of the day,
                                       month,
                                       year,
                                       decade
                                      (6.12.94)
very well-versed in
what it's like to be
simultaneously rich
and incredibly poor
living in other states
sleeping on the floor
sure

i walk a generational fine line
this gemini primetime,
of insoluble crises
the holy oil floats to the top
we learn
that feigned warmth cannot dissolve
the calcified ego of a leader or their god
you proclaim the name of jesus
but still cry out for someone to lead us
from gray
          gay
          awareness
          today

it's taken time and distance for this to be easy to say.

this is for the ones
who have always found
themselves in the middle,

america, honey, will you meet us there?

now it's come to this,
my sweet marijuana miss.
ugh i cannot sleep.

i have watched the two
of them love each other,
from too far away
for far too long

they stand, struck
by a venomous paralysis
inflicted by the fanged promises
he begged her to make. she made them to him,
because she wanted him to make them to her

but that was in the jungle, when they both were younger
when they both had a little too much sacred acid in their bellies
and adulthood was a struggle

now their love is stuck in the dunes
everything has changed
but still the same sand
no end in sight
anything that grows here
is sharp and puts up a fight

their conversations are a barren, cracked plain
they tread carefully, fear bespoke
her mother's back already broke

watching them love each other
has been like watching two north poles try to make the other south

he's standing by his white pick-up
she sees him swaying there,
something was off, for example, his balance
she engages him, and invites him to our sidewalk
boy staggers to our side of the street
drunkenly, i asked him if he was trippin'
she reprimands me for pointing it out
she insists that we help him
he looks terrified, or feral
we tell him he's ok
he pulls her in, desperately
she holds him, possessively
bile from his belly escapes, stealthily, from his lips
it drips it drips it drips
onto her head
"It's ok it's ok it's ok"
she holds my joint to his mouth to settle his stomach
i don't want her to because i can see the gloss of bile still on his lips
he told us his name was Savannah
it wasn't
he staggered away from us
while he walks away, she finds another circumcised **** to latch on to
after a moment of:
drunkenly watching the flirtatious introduction begin
Savannah pulling open the car door
my brain pings
she's doing the thing with her eyes to the circumcised **** guy
*******
i run to him
"you forgot your jacket, and please don't drive"
i approach him like a stray dog, trying to earn his trust
he lets me hold his hand as i explain it's not safe
he tries to kiss me with his acidic mouth
has he ever done drugs before?
"no"
where are his friends?
"i donno i donno i donno i donno"
he cranks his key into the ignition in all the wrong ways
windshield wipers start going off, blinkers, headlights, the horn
i have the thought that maybe he thinks his car is a Bop-It
"walk with us, don't drive, ok?"
he steps out of the car
"ok"
i lean into the car, finagling his keys out of the ignition
his face changes
he grabs every follicle of hair inhabiting the back of my scalp and throws me into the middle of Haight Street yelling
"who the **** are you who the **** are you"
my body bag of bones smacks down on the pavement
i've never been assaulted by a stranger, only by people close to me
i want to hurt him before he could hurt me again
but he's strong, and more dangerously, paranoid
his fear magnifies mine  
there's no one around to stop him from doing more
she's there, doing the thing with her eyes, she doesn't see me
"i'm trying to help you, Savannah"
his eyes are black
his mind crowded
that chest heaves like a rabid dog
not quite a boy, not quite a man

when there is a raging white male
who sexually assaults you
who uses violence against you

RUN

i have the keys to my car, i can just go
i don't want him to hurt me again
i want to go, i want to go, but i can't leave her
i can't leave her
i scramble to my feet while Savannah watches me
he takes slow steps in my direction

she's on the curb, talking about nothing
they stand so close to each other
i tug her sleeve
"we have to go"
she's not hearing me
"please, let's go"
she waves me off like i used to do
to my younger sister

Savannah is staring at me and in that moment
i believe he could rip me apart at any second

i'm begging now
"if you love me, come with me THIS SECOND, please"
that line always works in the movies,
but life is not a movie
it catches her attention, but not in the way i want
she hunches and steps toward me,
"how dare you say i don't love you?"
"i'm scared, we need to go"
"do you know what i've done for you?"
circumcised **** guy leave
she's stepping towards me angrily,
Savannah steps towards me tentatively,
i'm tripping backwards
"that's not what i meant, please let's go"
my eyes are shifting between them
it's 2am in San Francisco
we're yelling, in front of a bar called Zem Zem
"he threw me into the street"
she's tripping on her own feet

when there's a raging alcoholic
who questions your loyalty
who can't see the bigger picture

DE-ESCALATE

"i'm sorry" / "i'm so grateful for everything you've done for me" / "i really need to go but i don't want to leave you behind because i love you"/ ego stroke / ego massage / ******* deep tissue

we woke up in my little sedan on a San Francisco hillside
my shoulder and ribs were a bit sore thanks to Savannah
my mouth tasted like the darkest parts of humanity
she said we were both in the wrong
"it was the alcohol"

i could have left her

it's not a bad thing at all.....
it's beauty,                        not evil
the way that  i  f a l l   i n   l o v e
with so many different places
          so many different faces
          so many different pieces          of so many different people

we always said we'd make history....
...now i'm just repeating myself

always take your shoes off before you cross a threshold
              you've been carrying your dirt around with you
                leave it at the door
         
wear your face mask
wash your neck
ask for no sugar
hold yourself center                        
   
                                               this city's crazy, child

be grateful for the sun, and getting to be outside
       buildings do not satiate the wild within
         when the sun kisses your face, feel loved

don't drink the tap
try to keep your bones intact
keep your eyes open
wear a helmet

                                               this city's crazy, child

speak and laugh as loudly as you want
      set the bar high, so that growing up doesn't make you silent
        the world should know that you are here
          you're so beautiful

wash your dishes
sweep your floors
grant your own wishes
lock the door             

                                                thi­s city's crazy, child

 try not to breathe in the fumes
don't go to school for something you don't love! ....
                                                                                           or do
                                                                                           who am i to say
    but from what i can see,                                      
                you have patience for your elders, child
                              i wish they had patience for you

airports remind me of you
the smell of recycled air, and sterile plastic, remind me of you
getting the window seat reminds me of you
Bon Iver as we slip into the clouds
the clouds
the ******* sky

it all reminds me of you

today i made a wish you had loved me
and i held my breath as long as i could till my cheeks turned blue
cause they told me, that's how you get what you want

i don't know if that's true...
cause there's still no you

there's just this "me"
in these stiff high heels
and my sad little ****** up
lungs

i read
and re-read
your poems, over and over
i burn through them like cigarettes
rich, mellow, and solitary
risky, euphoric, and momentary
lots of people think they are bad for you,
ya know, that classic nicotine hate
but there are lots of things everyone does to get thru,
like loving someone in a different state...
but i know a chain smoker who is 82,
and have you seen jessica lange?
she's smokin' up in every frame
and she is not afraid
and he is not afraid
so i am not afraid
but i do smoke an awful lot these days....
and this turkish royal that hangs off my lips
has nothing on the gorgeousness of your semantics;
the genuine complexity of your consciousness
the only difference between you & cigarettes,
is that i'll eventually put smoking to rest
but my love for you? will stay the same
i could puff on your words for days,
and it doesn't even hurt

i am dripping in blankets and warm light
laying here, with you
in this puddle of humans
regurgitated by the Earth herself
i am happy to be here, with you
        happily decomposing
        rapidly recomposing
my ways
        rearranging the staves
        no rest
here, in the dirt
with you
giggling and twiddling
the stars have been swimming
above your sweet face, which is hidden
and i am tripping
on mushrooms