I found this love
like playing tetris

Anxiety at the falling of pieces
too fast

There are still holes in there

And I stand like a brick wall now
full of peep-holes
and glory holes
all places to let the cold in

And maybe I held you like a blanket

And maybe we played each other like Jenga
pulling out bricks
to restack somewhere else

A smaller structure
But stronger than we are

These days, there’s a whole lot more than
a telephone wire separating us.
Blame yourself, you were beautiful.
I cannot handle such intensity in
small doses, like hard shots in tiny glasses.


That sort of proof just finds
me spilling my insides on the floor
of some rich fool’s apartment
in the lonely 7th district.


He came on too strong
I said ok, but no
Call me a cab
I’m no longer sad and he won’t make me happy.
So I’m leaving if it’s only his hands that are open.

I feel as if I left my old mind
backstage in the concert
of a spring that tried too hard
to be a winter.  

I didn’t say goodbye,
it just left.
& I don’t miss it,
that season where I played the pilot fish.

The endless rain and grey skies
kept us all trapped in boxes,
well above & well beneath
the sidewalks that almost
seemed to cry.
I drank my weight in liquid
to keep it from spilling out of my eyes.

From a bird’s eye,
I suppose the streets bled together
like last night’s make-up does
on a Puritanical ******’s face
when she swallows horror and shame
at 8 am, riding the train home.
Her throat burns and the line
just keeps on buzzing.

You can’t play with fire and not get burnt.
I thought myself the Phoenix,
but I was blind.
What you ingest, you expulse.
Indeed, in the end, it was me who retched all the ashes

I once said I was melancholic
and knew black was the best color
because I thought it held depth.
But there weren’t ever any holes, just shadows
dancing to a dreary song that
I never really even wanted to sing.
I let it sing me, nonetheless.

So life goes on.
I crawl forth.
You fold and move on.
The past falls asleep inside of our skulls.
I still see a thousand faces when I dream,
but now that’s enough for me.

I grew up,
upside down in a place
where numbers
reigned supreme.

Who are you?
I grabbled for words
and they responded
quantify little girl

Well okay : 16, 27 inches,
a 95 percent,
45 miles per hour,
in the 5 signs of a zip code

I never felt as if my sequence
meant anything really,
what about volume?
Measure up or move on they insisted

As the people paced
back & forth, palms open,
putting their digits on display,
I counted the number of empty faces.

Their pockets are blooming green,
Their houses, the envy of the Jones,
& yet they hide 10 something-odd pills
in the back of a medicine cabinet to hypnotize

Now, they don’t yet know there is no
divine ratio for satisfaction
and the number that matters most
is the one they’ll put on your grave

Seeing you
makes me homesick
for a home that was never mine,
but one that you allowed me in.
And welcomed me in,
and ushered me into.

I smoked my cigarettes slower around you.
I don't know what that means but I know
that I like it more than being around
someone who subliminally makes me
smoke quicker.

You were left open
dusty, a bit tattered
like a book that has
perhaps,
spent too many days
on some forgotten shelf

I like to think
I was gentle

I like to think
I made an effort

I swallowed
what I could
& fell 5 stories to your spine


Could you feel my hands
trembling
as I turned the page ?

Perhaps,
I skipped to the end.

I certainly missed
the ******,
and never got the plot

Oh but I feel regret
for my impatience

You slammed shut.
I had papercuts
on the tips of my fingers


Somehow,
despite the words on pages,
the volumes read,
I feel only ever illiterate

Excuse me,
but sometimes my teeth feel tight
as if the space between weren’t space enough
It’s not,
It never is at night.
Excuse me for speaking freely
but I think I’ve earned the right.
I think
I’ve earned the right


Let’s just be honest here.
Let me just tell the truth for once
More often than not, I feel confused.

I grow impatient,
when my phone doesn’t ring,
when your name begins to sound far away,
but I won’t ever call you
and even speaking about you makes me feel *****,
like my tongue just finished tracing the some rotten peach fuzz.

(I’m allergic to pit-fruits but I love the taste,
I love
when the juice falls from my lips
then my skin turns red and I itch.
It makes me feel special
but then again I’m stupid)

Don’t spit in the left-over soup.
Oh but I do
Don’t bite the hand that feeds.
Oh but I do

I’ve got two plants in my room
but I can’t bring myself to
water them.
I just leave them under the sun,
hoping they’ll stay green
and grow.
It wasn’t me who put them there to begin with
so don’t act as if it’s my fault when they die.

I ask myself, aloud,
then silently
over and over
why can I not walk down the stairs,
why can I not check the mailbox,
why is that bottle of milk you bought
still rotting alone in my fridge?

I’m not responsible if I didn’t act
but nothing occurs if I don’t.

Christ, I curse myself.
Be a woman,
not a girl,
Go, go out in the world
and stop living in your head.