We spent so much time drawing on sidewalks
with chalk
leaving messages for old friends
threats for enemies
and instructions for our future selves
how many years did it take us to reach the end of the pavements
spilling cheese puffs all over the place
the clues were on your fingers
once in a generation there are kids who always speed when
they turn 16; reckless loose and free like an avalanche
towards the sea I made a bet with you that I could swim to the horizon
but I can’t swim
I’m a body full of empty threats
but I always kept my promises close to me
did it take long for you to forget
so many nights abroad with them
once in a lifetime for everyone
the world swallows the sea
so I didn’t need to know how to swim that night
there was you and you would always wear sundresses when you went out
and when you died they donated all your clothes to the children's hospital
sometimes when I go there I still see you running around outside
drawing on sidewalks

I found myself peeling the skin off post it notes
I was lost
You okay they said, like a statement than a question
People get annoyed like I’m adding oil into their drink water
When I sprout about my sadness
Relax, I’m not asking you to hold an anchor
I’m asking you to listen
Happiness is a bridge on fire with no one on it
Sadness is a metal detector through the streets
Depression is when the roof tops, knifes, and middles of bridges
Start being friendly

I’m stealing thumbtacks off walls
And putting the in people’s
Pizzas to teach them
How to swallow sadness

The problem is I like to pretend,
Which is to say I like to fall in love
We would date for a while
And then I would realize
I’m only in love with the story we made and the ***
Which is to say I was looking for poetic material

Like, Teenage poetry is awkward
And Young poetry is selfish
Middle-age poetry is about my ex-wife
Old poetry is boring
Dead or Near-Dead poetry is what we remember
And all poetry is filled with cigarettes stains and mistakes

Life is short. He says
I hand him a cheese grader
And said back
“Make like a slice of parmesan
and go **** yourself”

Life is long for the people who wait

I was on the bridge with the sun high above
Taunting me and pinching the back of my neck
Do It, You *****!
Around me were families
So I decide not to,
And never again;

I’m happy you found someone
That draws blue flowers on your
Porcelain every night
You leave your lip stick
On his night stand and
Your underwear on his bed
You walk to him like a horizon
like the floor is sand
like you leave foot prints
telling me where you are
just so you could see what
I would do
It’s been a month.
I've been traveling through Montana
It’s cold here, the snow is piercing
And the ice never melts
I’m at St. Mary trying to find
Where the lake touches the mountains
Some time before lunch
Realizing how you found
The world in-between his shoulders
And a history in-between mine

I will call you
And tell you
I love you
Not after when the train comes
Or after when the streets lights turn red
But after I’m done
Finding pennies in
Precarious places
I will call you
With my lips chipping
Like sugar on a glazed donut
My forehead a red neon sign
Flashing Day Dreams

I will call you
When the earth binges on ice cream
She’s trying to form new oceans again,
Trying to get back what the sun took
From her
I will come, harnessing the speed of light
With sun rays for arms;
Lightning in my heart
And oak trees sprouting from my head
And you’ll know
That I was trying my best to find
You in places that existed
When we were younger but no longer
Now that we aren’t

I will hand you all the pennies
I find and though there’s not many,
There’s enough
Because theses—
Are for the wishers
The people who stare at the distant suns
And get nothing back but a wink
For the pessimists who keep trying
To see the glass sideways
And for the earth that keeps fighting
For the right days
Give them two
And tell them all to wait for me
By the nearest pay phone—

I hear you
Through
The gaps
In-between
The splitting oak

Whirlpools of dust
Lift from the steps
You ask me to
Leave
You ask me why
I’m here

I smell you
Deep in the avalanches
Of your mold
They had killed a child
In you
Asking me why I come
Three times now

Cavern of unheard voices
Your cries seep
Into my stomach
Fill it with ash
Enough to roll
A useless cigarette

I felt you
Aching and in pain
Those who touch
Your rust
Pour lemons
On your wounds

I heard laugher
In your wood
The scratches
Of tiny fingernails
And the screams
Of a boy




They told me you
Carried them
Said it wasn’t
Your fault
They have grown
Since the last
Time you saw them

No longer the children
You use to carry.

Our bodies are untouched hallways and finger painting has never been more fun
I was there once and I left believing that swirls were the only good
way of trying to get my point across
But things aren't so subtle when it comes to understanding the physics of how to dance
I move like scattered leaves trying to collect myself against the wind
You can imagine how I am at galleries with a living room full of broken paintings
I accidentally bought.
But I don’t regret it and I think that’s the best way to live.
A mouth full of teeth collisions
A lot of people compare love to an instant but I think it’s more like discovering the warm ghost
of the person still lingering on surfaces in your home like metal bars, the ps3 controller, and the toilet seat
finding the body wash disappearing quicker than usual
Inhale not for the enjoyment of it but the possibility of finding a soul somewhere in all that smoke.
We wear all this black. I bet if I jumped into you there would be another dimension on the other side
Where the people wear nothing but white and all they speak is truth
and I’ll end up asking them what’s the point of everything
and they’ll say nothing, all they’ll do is place their finger on my chest and start swirling

Maybe this is our generation
The batten down the hatches
Singing songs of the east coast kid
With west coast dreams generation
While the A.C. is singing songs for
The ocean sea
And ocean breeze
I could feel
My skin remembering
The blue sounds
And blue piers
Blue hands
I’m blue behind the ears
I remember how much my heart
tendered her
And I wondered
How high that bonfire burned—

On the beach,
she told me the truth
about her arms
That this one was for her ma
And that one was for her pa
And that one was for her brother
Fighting overseas

“What about that one”

“Well, that one’s for you
And for me
For proof that I was here,
That I was alive before all of this”

I don’t know what I’m doing
I have no clue where I’m going
Parts of me are scattered in people
Who no longer think I care
Days melt into month and
I’m being devoured by a girl
That has eaten more men than
Cigarettes
My hands are sticky; been going
Through my parents old photo album
Divorce is hard when you’re 18
You chose who you go with
And I’m terrible at decision but
I wish I could say I didn't have to pick
My mom
Honestly, I would chose either of them

I talked about it once
The place where in the distance
Everything looks like
Dots of light
And where our skin would
fold and unfold
like pages from
A book about god
Not bible—
Because in the creases at night
I could see him dangle on the edge
Of your eye lash—
and he’s begging you
not to blink;
and when you go—
overnight
shifting to the other
side of the sea
asking the moon how to get home—
I’ll come to you—
I’ll tell you how these pages
In your skin are only temporary
And that the crashing coast is only a mile away—
So don’t listen him. Leave him out
Let him dangle like he’s done to us
And when you stop trembling,
When your chest closes
When your heart starts beating enough
To make an ocean
When you’re ready
when he’s holding on by a thread—
blink

I could see Montana in your unopened eye lids
Vast valleys in your chlorophyll

Your fingertips dipped in rust
And then you shook them to
Dry

I love your sky Colorado
Split ends that could spilt
Appalachians

I would touch you if I had hands
Rub our rust like tectonic plates
My ridges are cold like Alaska
New England Industry booms me out
Like bullets

But I found you near the Delaware again,
Like I did back in the winter ‘76
Or maybe ‘74

I can’t remember

I hated the combat but I loved the war
Reminds me of yours

Your crashing Colorado
Runs down your spine
The Mississippi would cut through yellow stone

If it could

But

You are dying, I know that now

Like everything else, like Vietnam

I see your red and your white
But where is your blue?
I’ve seen the hands of America

I’ve lost mine too.

The grass knew back then
How easy it was to hitchhike
On shoes and knees

The Oak tree nearby knew
The kisses I gave her
Underneath its leafless
Frame of winter

The village below
Knew me
The time I stole
His peaches from his
Yard

The graffiti of my youth
Covered up
By Vogue and
Chewing gum

There in the little ancient house
With green shingles,
That knew me

Sits grandpa meditating
In front of her picture
Hung from the ceiling
Border with flowers

Over there, past
The wide dusty road
Yellow from the soil
Stood the brutality
That knew me

Can you still smell the cherries
Over the February gunpowder?
Everyone that knew you
Misses you
Your tone, bells in the wind
In front of service

You spoke the same
But I spoke differently
Now
A battered dream in my voice
But the optimism is still there
Still lodged in my throat
The people are still there
The weight of the peaches
On your shirt is still there
Everyone is still there

Hang your bones
In my closet
While I melt my skin
On to terracotta warriors
So I can learn
How to stand centuries for you

Dust off our ash covered knees,
We’ve waited long enough
Pierce your ancient stone temple
With eroding fingers
I’ll excavate your
Porcelain viscera
And rearrange it
With my tongue

Drunk- half passed out
On the sofa, the cat
itching for a fight
again.
Tea infused *****
A regrettable drinking
game
a full shopping bag
destroyed in a night
stomachs full
scorched eyes from too
much crying
we’re high again on
the steps of a few
apartments
went back in
she was crying, threw up
twice. Once of the bed.
Again in the toilet
he was nice about it thought

I really miss those nights
listening to songs we would
have hated 3 years ago;
talking about
5 years from now
when we were at the beach
sitting on the benches at the pier
when the sun had already
died
we didn't know how
easy we had it
of course, we didn't experience
everything
we didn't fall in love
like everyone else
I didn't think we we're
ready
I don't think we're ready
now-
but we want it now,
more than ever
it's because we finally figured out
what they never told us
or tried to tell us:
that out there is everything you've
ever wanted and everything you don't;
every where you want to be and
every place you're trying to run away from;
everything that you hate
and everything that you love
all together, thrown at you
at the speed of a waterfall
and you taste it splashing in your mouth-
it needs a little more of what we didn't have

Black clothed kissing
in the subway
she smelled like 6 months of
soul searching
digging through herself
with **** and coffee
he grew a bit, not physically
but something inside him
wasn't there before
they held each other
the same way you held
a sinking ship
Carefully at first,
and then completely
as tight as possible

You’re the song that
The sky can’t stop
Singing after the sun
Broke its promise to
The afternoon and left
Inside my head is the
Sound that the rain makes
After a big storm, leaving
Stains on my shirt
Rusting the brakes so you
Couldn’t leave
The sound of subtle bells
I tore it open once
Just to see if I could find you
Somewhere in the storm of myself
I searched for a while and my feelings
Came pouring out like a waterfall
Rivers began to form and you followed
Them to the ocean of my vulnerabilities
Stripped yourself naked and swam through
Me, riding my skin like tidal waves.

And you wanted to drop in to the sea
We’re not rain drops
No matter how much
We want to reflect the impressions
of clouds burned into the afternoon
and you wanted to spend evenings on a roof
around us the cache of our future
embodied in skyscrapers
found near parks where everyone lives
and you wanted me to metalize my organs
store them somewhere cold where only
you can retrieve them;
A safety deposit box filled with things
To make you feel better  
and you wanted us like a locket
sealed by the feelings from the last guy
you wanted.

I saw you a week ago
Your hands in the bread box
Fingers flipping through the slices
Like folders

You pick one
And pinch the barked color crust
You lift it from obscurity
And secured it in-between
Your rose petals

Crumb glazed fingertips
Dirt on your cheeks
You looked around
Made sure it was safe
And then disappear into winter

Coal covered flakes fell from the chimneys
And the snow needed cleaning
Furnaces burned all day like Hanukah oil
Rib cages grew out from their shyness
And your topaz eyes did well
To stand out from the sea of blue and white

If they tell you there are showers here
Don’t believe them
There’s a reason why it smells like skin
On Sundays

Those ******* with their black metal suits
Raising their hands towards the heavenly sky
In front of them
Making gold out of our bones
And lampshades out of our skin

Yesterday, I kissed you in front of the bread box
Felt the grime on your finger tips
And tasted the bread in your breath
I ran my fingers down your brittle
Spinal cord
Climbing and descending mountains
One finger at a time----

We dissolved into the winter

Made angels where no angels could be found
Danced in our skeletal forms

We both had seen death and his attempts
To lure us with hot showers, warm food
And an oversized fire place

He had made this hell on earth
And we chose to decorate it with bread
And angels

We were content with that




But today when you didn’t show up
I went outside

I saw him guiding you into that burning house
With a grin on his face

I ran as fast as my bony legs could
Trampling over the angels we made

And carelessly slipping on our frozen crumbs

All I could do was stare helplessly at the chimneys
Cement and vicious
Piercing in to the sky
Black smoke flooded the clouds like night

Grey and black crumbs rained

And somewhere in the distance
A train had stopped

Birthday cards, I keep stacked that I’ve made
copies near the entrances to my window—
the virtue of having a friend
bitterest of ways, I am daffodils, saltwater.
mason jars of onions, old peanut butter we save
singing together, little notes of you
pieces, bit by bit— scatter into summer

I’m running out of pages to keep myself calm
I’m running out of time
And I’ve only answered so many questions
I am no longer authorized to print
Handle-with-care packaging
And I am running out of blue crayons to color in the oceans
As fast as it takes to finish this Carpi Sun
I’m running out of words to make you forgive me
And running out of Uhms in between sentence
To buy some time—
Maybe, I’m losing my ability
of a first grader gazing among tall buildings

In front of them
Resisted the wind
Against their shirts
Resisted the heavy
Man- women
And pretentious
Jesus with a ****** up
Face from surgery a while
Back
They resisted each other
Went no where
For a while but home
Until they
Came across a road that
They dreamt up on a December
Morning in a living room
No longer there

I want to be able to tell you something
Not sure what I want to say
All I know is that I want to say
Something to you
Something that won’t leave you
Something that leaves an impression
Something from the deepest part of me
Something that makes up for
All the other times I couldn’t
Something to make you stay

I’m sorry that I’m not okay enough to give you what you need
There’s a point when trying your best no longer matters unless
You actually succeed and I’m failing you; I’m not well; I wish
I was but all I want to do is feel something for once know how
It feels to grasp something and not let it run through your fingers
Like sand; I’m not dead inside; I’m very much alive, running
Savagely through my darkness away from what’s behind me;
I don’t know what’s behind; it looks like my childhood, like
My parent’s disappointment in me, the lack of everything; the
Problem isn’t because I’m scared. A building is set on fire inside
Me every day and every day I have to find a way to put it out
And save what remains of that building; charred black oak,
Crumbling walls, a roof torn wide open left on its tendons;
Photos outlined by carbon and touched by the flames leaving
Traces of embers and Polaroid ash; negatives were use as fuel
Every time it’s the same building, the same house; the house
That I grew up in; the house that’s still there; Why do I keep
Trying to put it out when I know what I really want
Is to watch that ******* burn;

I am, will always be, behind your back
That, I will, in the worst time of your life,
Try to be the best part of it, that, you are, to me,
The best thing about here, that, no matter,
How hard, trying, how much it is
I will, spot you, walking across the street.
Running towards, my life like a shelter,
That you are, dumb as ****, with me, at this bar,
At Starbucks with playing cards, at parks, through heavy winters,
Without money, for gas, together above, my house, on the roof,
throwing firecrackers on the driveway, in the neighborhood,
stealing golf ***** from country clubs
you are, a buzz, dank with life, tall as you could be
that so many things have died in my life—
I am happy you haven’t. I am happy—
you are here.

In the summer,
we run around the house
open all the windows
have the wind sing through our rooms—
that you are a wind chime—
and —
when I pass through you
it is my favorite song

That afternoon when the sky
Faded orange to blue
And the sun was tired of us
We crossed that bridge
You wanted one of them
You loved one of them
The one that drove
Her mom’s red bug
The one with the
Big house and the
Big pool and
The beautiful bedroom
That you wanted so bad
To kiss her in
You didn't care
About any of her
Things or what else
She had.
You only cared if
She was yours.
There were three
Of them in the car
One that wanted
Him so bad that she
Fell in love with
Him because she knew nothing else
And that was okay
To be young and fully in love
She wanted to drive to the
Palm trees with him
And imagine themselves
Grow old right there
In front of everything
And she would have
Been happy
She would felt something
For once
The last one in the car
You said not in a
Million years not
If someone paid you
You called her fat
And ugly and I’m
Glad you couldn’t
Get the one you wanted
Because you don’t deserve
Anyone if you can’t see
Beauty in everyone
She wasn’t fat
She was just living the
Way she wanted to live
Until we gave her a label
She started to change, wearing tighter
Pants and tighter shirts
She hated them.
But she was cute in
The way she never
Gave up on trying to fit
In
And if you didn’t know
She loved you then you’re
A fool.
In a million year you’ll
Be dust and she would
Have already learned to love
Herself just fine
Without you

That afternoon we drove
Across the bridge-
In to the island

Do you still play vinyls
rolled up Japanese jeans
you smelled of crushed hibiscus
roads after a thunder, pine needles burst
with the sky-blue beetle
zooming, trampling with blank ink
with white polka-dots,
how to hide a lesbian body with the carpet
rolled up tossed into the closet
it was the day you taught me how to samba
it was a windy day cracking open the side windows
a tiny bit, just enough to lick your fingers
how you breathe with waiting, how you wait until have to breathe
It was storming outside, it was the first time I had horchata.
and the sunlight broke drying the ground,
how you appear - gently, into someone's heart