I'm bigger than a hurricane rushing past,
I'm stronger than the ivy that takes root and holds on tight.

I'm the girl your mother wishes you'd bring home.

Do not reduce me to ashes,
Do not reduce me to dust.

I arise in a sea of tears, salty from the sorrows that drip down like whispers.

Strength is a virtue that little recognize as a force to be reckoned with.

But you will see me rise,
You will see me burrow.
You will see me grow and shrink,
You will see me stand my ground.

Always, with my back turned, to a beating sun that never wanted me.

Imagine your ice cold fingers
Like melting candle wax,
Seeping onto a window pane,
Waiting for the ever looming ******.

Imagine a bed of flower thorns,
Digging into your skin.
Convince yourself it's normal,
Tell yourself to start again.

Wait patiently for the sound of the lark.
Wait quietly for the non-existent spark.

Tell all your friends and your ex lovers too,
Tell me what they think of you.

When morning is gone and night won't start,
Make yourself pull apart
From the demons inside your soul.
I won't follow them where they go.

If you cry before you wake,
Say one good prayer for goodness sake.
And if you die before you rise,
There's nothing left to do.

I am always here and never there,
So tired of the day to day.

I keep waiting for the moment we can jump on a train,
Like the ones I hear calling from my bedroom window.
I like to imagine they are going to far off distant lands,
But I doubt they'll go past Cincinnati.

I keep trying to make something beautiful out of something ugly
And I guess there's some sort of metaphor there.
Well when the train finally blows the whistle,
Tell me who still cares.

When I'm awake, I dream of pears.
I like to think of anjou pears because they remind me of the french word for jewels: bijoux.
I don't have a preference for red or green, I just dream of soft pears.

Speak to me in your honey suckle voice,
Eyes bright like blue lavender laid out to dry;
I want to be drenched in the stickiness of love.

Sticky like a fly trapped in a spider’s web
But unwilling to try to escape.

Croon to me in your apple cider voice,
Lips puckering at the tartness;
I want to be warmed up in the heat of love.

Hot like an egg frying on the pavement
Ready to be eaten with salt and pepper.

Hunger or Anxiety?
My stomach does backflips and I think it's Hunger.
You know, the kind that clings to your rib cage,
Trying to **** out the bone marrow.

Well cheers to you, Hunger,
The kind that makes my eyes hurt and go fuzzy in sunlight.
Your never ending creepy-crawly feeling makes me feel like going for a swim to wash you off.

It's times like these that make me want to live.

"Why do you think about death so much?" My mother says to me one evening as I eat a cobb salad.
My mother is imaginary.
In this dream, I come up with some funny rhetoric and she laughs a pearly laugh and suddenly I'm 12 again:

My childhood best friend snorts milk out of her nose and this makes her laugh more. I don't understand what's so funny.
Suddenly she stops and looks at me with doe eyes.
"Why do you think about death so much?"

In the mirror, there's a skeleton instead with no skin attached
But this doesn't bother me.
I'm not afraid of death.

Instead of a pelvic bone, there are vines growing with pink flowers.
I tried to use herbicide to get rid of them but they grew too fast.
I can't walk without them.

I wonder what happened to my brain.
At least I knew my heart was burnt in the fire.
But what happened to my head?

Baby don’t cry
Momma says to me when the red and blue lights flash and she’s pulled away from me
Oreos at the table with the nice officer
Can’t remember if it’s a real memory, feels like it is

Baby don’t cry
Momma says with skinned knees so dry
Daddy pushes me on the swing so **** high
Why am I afraid of heights?

Baby don’t cry
Momma says as the black and white cat walks past
Promises of broken pieces being mended
Fingertips at my backside pressing in

Baby don’t cry
They all say with kind eyes and slight smiles
Baby don’t cry, you’re oh so strong
Can’t cry if you don’t even feel sad

Baby don’t cry
Momma says, slitting two lines into her wrist
This is how you show pain, not tears
Maybe I should try it myself.

My heart is protected by what God made Eve out of-

Before you, everything was dark until He brought me to you and said “Let there be light!”
Your eyes are so sparkling and radiant; God must have modeled the stars after them.
When your skin touches mine, a million synapses pulse with an electric current as if you are a long-lost memory waiting to be rekindled.
Our souls must have known each other behind pearly gates – I am certain of this when your hands clasp mine.

With you, the melody within my heart is more beautiful than any song sung by birds in the entirety of Creation.
Your voice is so sweet and praising; God himself cannot conduct the angel choirs to sound like you.
When you smile and laugh, I imagine grand golden bells that bellow out down the streets of Paris.
Our hearts beat to the same pattern and our lungs are consistent with each other – I am certain we were made for each other out of clay.

There is no after you, there is only the sound of your voice resonating in my ears long after you have finished speaking.

My hands, made of the same clay as you
When my fingers reach for yours,
Michelangelo could not paint anything as beautiful

My face is peeled and waxed
Who told you of the monsters in the dark?
Bodies of oceans spill out in the halls.

When the door closes, my insides collapse
Until you reappear to fix my foundation.

You are taking 6:30 train
AM or PM, you do not know
Another train passes, going the other way
You see someone, and realize it is your lover
He is going away and you don't know where.

You spend all morning fixing your hair
You've lost count of the time
Your hair will not lay flat
The red shoes sit by the door
They've only been worn once

The pie that you have been baking is done
The edges are burnt but the inside is still cold
Your crust has collapsed in the middle
The timer did not sound.
You did not see it fall apart.

A waitress takes the late night bus home,
Counts all the people on the bus but there are none.
She gets off five stops early to walk,
She hears nothing.

On the avenue a black cat chases a moth
But does not catch it.
A man throws a shoe at the cat,
Yells obscenities across the alley,
Then falls back asleep.

Dig your nails into my skin,
Tell me to let the love sink in
Drag your eyes across my chest
Tell me you love me the best

Twist your stories word for word
Tell me that I sound absurd
Turn my love into inhibition
Tell that I’m your motivation

Spin your web and hold me close
Tell me this is how it goes
Sink me with your fiery eyes
Tell me that you don’t lie.

In the center of the white room with the wide curtain-less windows:
A woman cannot sleep, but her eyes are closed;
Normally it is her eyes that burn, now it is just her skin.
Next to her is a glass of water that is not too far away to reach,
She is just too weak to try to grab it.
For a moment she tries, and she is pulled away from the bed to hear:

“Mama?” Her mother is reading a book by candle light.
The girl has wandered away from the nursery; it is late.
Her mother at first appears frustrated, but her expression warms.
Mama gives her a small slice of treacle ****, plenty of kisses, tucks her back into bed.
In the nursery, there is a toy horse. The girl looks at it and

“Father!” The young girl laughs breathlessly,
As her father playfully taps her shoulder, passing by atop of a horse.
The young girl is learning to ride horses, although Mama doesn’t approve.
But Father believes girls should do everything that little boys do.
His face is red and handsome, and on his other side are

“Peter! Little John!” She calls out to her younger brothers.
It is time for supper and her mother sent her outside to fetch them.
She has been inside all day, learning French and practicing piano.
The young girl has very little time to play anymore, but she knows
Her brothers are hiding, begging her to play.
She starts to run and hears a shout from her

“*****!” She gasps, as her older sister pulls in her corset tighter.
Her figure is slim enough, the young girl decides. ***** pulls too much.
The girl is now a young woman and has no one to help her tie her corset,
Except *****. There is a ball tonight because ***** is getting married.
The young woman wonders about when she will get married and if his name will be

“Nathan Smith” the Priest says, smiling down upon the two young lovers.
The young woman looks bashfully up at her groom. He looks full of pride.
She wonders if Father will cry like he did at *****’s wedding.
As they recite their vows, the young woman keeps thinking about
What sort of curtains she likes and how she likes the name

“Sarah,” the young mother looks lovingly down at her newborn.
Beside her, Nathan looks once again full of caring pride.
For a moment, it feels as if it is just the three of them in the world.
The young mother is so excited and scared at the same time.
She hopes for a little boy next time and she will name him

Nothing. The baby was taken from her. She did not name the baby.
The young woman does not know if it was a boy or girl.
She trusts Nathan will name it properly, and love the child.
For a moment she wishes Nathan was there or little John or Peter.
But they are far now, like Mama, like Father, like *****.
Perhaps it is better this way.

In the center of the white room with the wide curtain-less windows,
The woman is ready to sleep;
Next to her is a glass of water that is not too far away to reach,
She is just too weak to try to grab it.
She does not try this time and she is pulled away from the bed to hear:

When I was younger, I read something that said
If you’re going to bail, bail early
And it made sense, so I became a quitter who gave up easily;
When my dad finally left my mom, I told him that
If you’re going to bail, you should have bailed earlier.

Years later, when I met a boy,
I hated myself a lot. And I warned him.
He did not seem to mind loving a broken girl,
Even someone who decided to quit so often.
I decided to not give this up.
And on my darkest nights, I told him,
If you’re going to bail, then bail.

I guess it wasn’t fair of me, to make him promise to stay.
So everyone so often, I’d tell him:
If you’re going to bail, then bail.
But he refused to, he wouldn’t bail.
Yet he gave up in every other way,
That every time I said it to him,
I was actually begging him
If you’re going to bail, then please just bail.

And 3 years later, I felt weak and still broken.
I had learned that love can’t fix your soul,
But even still weak, I felt strong enough
To tell myself it was okay, that
If you’re going to bail, it is okay to bail.

6 months later, I still wish I could tell him
It was right for me to bail
And all these feelings inside my chest
Are normal. Because I begged him to leave me
So many times and he refused just to
Not love me in the right ways.
And I’ve only told the new boy once,
And he refuses too, but he loves me more
Intensely so that I tell myself
*If you’re going to bail, don’t bail.

the worlds spilled forth from my fountain of a mouth,
and i wished to drink them back down.
the look in his eyes said it down.
tell my lungs to breathe, in out. in out. in out.

the heat swallows me whole, claiming Did you not want fire?
We must be careful what we wish for, to break ice.
I was left upon the countertop to thaw.
tell my lungs to breathe, in out. in out. in out.

ice packs for my back, sweat forming into beads that can't make necklaces.
alone in the look you had that tells me you mean the opposite.
and then i will not be saved in his keeping grace.
tell my lungs to breathe, in out. in out. in out.

I felt his hands, but they were never mine to hold.
Ironically I find myself in cracks and crannies I never expected to be.
My anger is taller than the redwood forests
And it beats louder than a drum.

If I die before I wake,
Will it still matter?
Ironically it will not.

Your ice still clings to my marrow
Will I ever thaw through?
Perhaps a little antifreeze will melt my veins.
If I lay down in the sun,
Can I break?
Will I shatter?
Glass breaks like a mirror.

It is hard to be agreeable when he touches me.
For I am thinking of your lips,
But preoccupied with his.

But I like fire better than ice,
It seems that way in the very least,
And your eyes send me chills that will not set ablaze.

And so now, I release you.
You must not think it fair,
But you will melt and I will fry.

I've been told I can talk better than write
So I tried that today,
Telling you a poem with a shaking voice,
Tearstained eyes told their own poems as I spoke.
After you hugged me like you would never let go, and a poem grew in my heart.

I kissed a boy with a fever in hopes that he would burn through my thoughts,
but the flame did not fill the gap between my ribs.
I kissed him, lips chapped, bleeding after.
I kissed a boy hard, to make something there that was not.
The look upon his face was full of adoration until he saw my face,
And for a second he looked into my eyes and I was worried he would see what no one else knew.
But he did not, he only smiled as I walked away, like he was content,
But I was not.
But loneliness burns hotter and meaner than fire.

I don't believe in blooming roses
Or how the moon shines on your face like wax.
I don't believe in shooting stars
Or how dandelions float in the sun like parachutes.
I don't believe in glittering snowflakes,
Or how trees bend when your name is called like dancers.

But I believe in late-night phone calls, where you tell me "Of Course, Of Course, Of Course."
When you grab my wrist gently, and look me in the eyes and say "Okay."
I believe in the silence between us that is louder than a heart shattering like a broken plate.
I believe in endings. They are the only thing that exists.

Your kisses are more intoxicating that wine
That for hours after, for days, for weeks,
I can not think straight.
But it is time I learn to sober up,
and the learn the sweet clear taste of water.

-One case of ******* in too much water and air at the same time
-2 dashes of cold loneliness on the bitterest winter eve where the candles freeze over
-5 tablespoons of the ripest peach on that July day in Georgia where the skies were golden and the juice just oozed and cracked out the fuzz
-1/2 cup of collapsing into soft sheets of a bed already nice and made, presented well as you sink into the goose feathered pillows
-A dozen moments of standing at the edge of highest tower on your tip toes, as your stomach drops from the fear of falling
-4 really good sessions of laughing where you feel as if you will never breathe again, for that is the best kind of laughter and the ripest.
-A pinch of the sweetest bird calls in the world where you cannot help to sing along, just for good measure.
-1 huge smile, the type where you cannot stop it, it is such a gorgeous smile in all its hugeness

Toss into a pan and stir until everything combines creating a deliciously bitter concoction and throw into the oven forever and never let cool.
And that is the perfect recipe for falling in love.

The street is paved with silver
The moon tells me silently to keep still
Not a sound is heard but I can feel the leaves rustle, hushing me
But I make no noise

I have a steady grip on the melody but it is too quiet for me
The street makes no sound, it is just paved in silver
I hear the moon, calling to me
Telling me to hush but I make no noise

The cold tries to swallow me whole,
Wrap me in a taciturn blanket so the world will no longer hear my voice,
My voice that is louder than the sun but not the moon
But I make no noise.

I reach out to a silver petal, trying to grasp it
But it slips through cracks I've never noticed
And as I realize that the little light is fading
I make no noise.

Sometimes my windows leak when it rains,
And my books get ruined.
One time I made pancakes, that fell apart on me.

I asked you if you would like to get some lunch,
But you said the moon wasn't going to come out that day.

I wonder if you ever really listen
When my hammock is being blown away.

This is an absolute true story:
Once upon a time, a girl wore a paper crown upon her head and declared herself queen of the world.
She ran through the forests, quickly, and she knew how to hide from civilization.
She strung lights across the trees for dusk, so the light danced across the sky when she danced and asked for rain.
She was alone and liked it that way, except at cold nights when the wind blew through the leaves and howled louder then she could ever try.
She could hunt, run, skip, leap, climb, and hide. She was good at everything and she quick and cunning that all the foxes began to worship her.
Once she ran into a bear and stood her ground so well that the bear bowed down to her.
But at night, when the owls had stopped making sound, she would cry herself to sleep, and feel an emptiness in her heart.
It was an emptiness in her bones that no cheerful melody of a bird could ring out.
It was an emptiness that no warm rabbit could try to rub out of her skin.
A sorrow, an ache, a longing for something that started with an l, but that even the little silver fish could never give her with little kisses.
And that was how she lived for all her life.

Come back!
There is so much I did not tell you;
I never told you the time I climbed the tallest tree and nearly broke my neck.
I never told you I was never really angry.
I never told you I was also allergic to plums, your favorite fruit,
I never told you that everytime you kissed me my lips tingled and burned for more.
I never told you that I was really just sad.
I never told you I did not mean a single word that was said.
I never told you that I really did love you.

A second could've changed it
Just one second
If I hadn't had stopped to admire the fallen leaves perhaps I wouldn't have missed you
Maybe you would not have missed you train if you hadn't decided to take the sweater I gave you
No if I had just read one last sentence in the book, I would've said goodbye
But now you're gone
And a few seconds changed everything.

Dearest,
Light is but a fragment of our imagination
It is the hope that keeps the sailor rowing.
It will not fade in your heart, nor in your mind or soul.
Light will soothe your aches and worries.
If you believe in light, the darkness will cease to exist and your world will be brighter than any star.
This I swear with all my heart,
Sincerely,
Your friend

Peal, core, slice
Six apples
Do not cry, keep it together
Oven to 450
Floured surface
Do not cry over the dough
Flour all over your brand new pants
Pearl earrings worn just for the occasion
Cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, sugar
When the bell rings rush to it
Carefully cut slits so the pie can vent
A tiny dough heart in the center
Ding ****
10 minutes then 35
Ring ring
Don't burn the pie
Do not cry over the pie
Carefully put lines around the edge with a fork
Just like Julia Child.

The legend goes that she was spectacular
That she could catch any flyball pop-up foul ball splitter there was
That she could count to at least twenty in fifty different languages,
Not to mention being fluent in fifteen
She could recite to you the periodic table forwards upwards downwards sideways
The legend had it that she had short straight black hair
And eye of a an emerald fire that were sometimes hurricanes and sometimes bluebirds
She could whistle any song you named and sing it perfectly in key.
But the one thing could never do was learn to love someone right.

To the man who was told to sell apples:
I always wondered what would make a man so proud
As to give away apples when he was told to sell them
Were you afraid? Afraid that everyone might've been right about you?
Reach for the stars
A hand full of air
Is better than a handful of mud,
Though some would argue against that
Those are the greedy ones
Who grab and steal and take,
Who sell apples for a profit,
Who don't reap what they sow.
But they never get stars do they?
No, never. They get mud

"Promises are made to be broken"
Words from a young girl who has not realized that promises are made to be kept.
She says that birds fly away for the winter and she is the mockingbird who wishes to go south where it is a sin to **** a mockingbird.
The girl closes her eyes and rocks back and forth in the moonlight sonata.

I gave you my last piece of gum after you left
After we spent an hour alone in my room.
I never threw away the empty pack and now it is sitting on my desk.
On my desk is a few notes from you. Things you love about me. There are 10 I think.
There is a bible that seems to open to the same page
God is love.
I do not know love
So do I not know God?
There is also a broken pencil sharpener.
It was brand new, given in an art kit.
I smashed it with a hammer
Grabbed the piece I wanted
And created two red railroad tracks on my right hip
I hope those tracks lead me to a better place
While you are at the concert
Plans made with my friend
So he can tell you to leave me alone.

Happiness?
What is that? Do they sell it in bottles?
Tell me, if I could ever obtain strange beast.
I think you mean a bird's song
Or a flower's laughter
But happiness? It's nonexistent to me.
If they could perfect the smell of a breeze
Or the beauty in pearl drop tears
Then let me know.
If they sold it as a perfume or lotion, I would buy a lifetime supply and share it with all.
But happiness?
I have no clue what you mean.

Your heart is empty, did you not know?
There is no room for anything to grow
There is not land for flowers to bloom
No your heart is full of empty room.

Your head is the sea, does it ever call?
Ye waves are crashing twenty feet tall
There is no safety for a boat to glide
The waves are the thing that cause you to hide.

A poet could lie and make up his own
Or hers, whatever, and steal someone's home
They could capture ones heart but that I couldn't do
I could never capture the empty heart of you.

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens*

So much depends
upon
a girl who
can
barely stand up
on
her own two
feet.

there once was a girl
who had walked for ages.
it was winter, and there was not much hope for her.
she was all alone.
it was dark.
it was cold.
the path she took was rocky and she ached.
and so after walking by a deserted farm,
she found a spot to lay down.
an angel appeared before her.
"my darling girl," the angel said. "why do you rest on your journey of life? has no one told you there is no breaks in life as such?"
the girl, who was simply tired, replied
"im sick of walking, my feet hurt. i haven't seen the sun for days. its cold and lonely and dark. i forgot what birds sound like, or what a summer breeze feels like. i have decided to take a break now. just rest and take a break. so i have chosen here. and if this happens to be my grave, then so be it. i have nothing to live for."
and the girl closed her eyes and laid on her back.
"dear child!" the angel exclaimed. "look! with your eyes. for the sun is right on the horizion. can you not see spring right there? you must walk a little further. do not give up hope. remember that, when all is lost, do not give up hope."
and so the angel disappeared into the heavens, and the girl turned to see.
on the horizon, was the shinning sun. there was spring,
where everything was alive.
and although she was sore, the girl kept walking, and with every step
the new day seemed farther,
until one moment,
the snow was gone and it was warm.
there were birds chirping and the sounds of children laughing.
the trees rustled with a breeze,
and everything was bursting with life.
it was bright and warm.
and all was well.

What would you have done that day
if i asked you, begged for you to stay
but now i wouldn't want you back,
for feeling for you i do now lack

you are heartless, cruel my dear
you never cared, oh how my heart did tear
and looking back, oh now i know
to the devil you had sold your soul

so close your eyes, lets say goodbye
go on and tell some other grl your little lies
and now im utterly thankful for that day
the day, the day you walked away.

She stayed up quite late many nights
Pricking her fingers raw sometimes
Telling herself that it did indeed matter.
She would thread a ribbon with such care that it seemed as if the ribbon was her own life
And each stitch with such precision!
Lined with words, with nouns, the adjectives kept together just perfect
Yet no one would wear her sorry stories
No, no one read the tear-stained woven fabrics
In such brilliant hues that even a cardinal would be jealous.
Scarlet after all is such a lovely color.

What use of me the world does have is none.
I am certainly of no benefit
Lay me in London and leave me be
The same old cliches will still hold true:
If you are alone, you may not be lonely.

It's going to hail
The phone is ringing and I
Don't know where it is.

I often like to picture that you are floating in a red balloon
My lost love, soaring above my hands
And my head holding on,
While I know you are soaring away from me.

Perhaps when the leaves fall, we fall down as well
For all good does not appear it
Yet take down your sorrows off the shelf,
For you must be loved; it is no good to be feared.

Silence is cold but not all that is cold is silent
For your laugh is often cold
And it sends shivers down my spine
And gives me an ache in my bones which no fire can take away.

I hid in cupboards and hope that you will return
And if you don't, I myself will fly to the stars
And grab one hot one and hold it tight
Hoping that it is I who is warm, and you who is cold.

Your hands smelled like coppery feathers
Which could not bend nor break
You were proud of your feathers
But then you could not fly
You went where your feet carried you
To mountain tops, forest edges, seashores
You walked miles
Looking up at the sky and cursing those who soared above you
And you longed to spread your wings and glide too
But your bones were not hollow
And your heart was not whole
And your feathers were made of copper.

I wish I knew how to get wine off a white dress
It's not so much I wished to wear the dress again
Or that I wish it had fallen into my mouth instead to prolong the feelings,
But I wish I knew how to get that **** stain out
So that maybe instead I could give the dress away or that I may make the dress new
Sew into curtains, pillowcases, sheets, anything
If only I could've saved it.

I wonder perhaps
If I would rather be a cat
Rough toungues licking up milk
Playful with colorful yarns
The only sorrow I would know then is the emptiness of a food bowl.

Do you like to eat oranges still?
You used to.
We'd go driving at your car, way past our limits,
And sometimes, an old man would sell bags of oranges,
right off 55.
They were strung in red netting, that made them look brighter then they really were,
as if oranges could ever be a lie.
You'd buy a bag, or maybe two,
only if you were intrigued by the way the oranges moved
in nets like fish.
You'd rip it open, peel the skin, carefully
You were only ever careful about peeling them,
and you'd take extra care, extra caution
to make sure it was perfect,
and we'd share the orange.

When the man asked me how I felt about the end to our oranges,
I said that you had been left unpeeled,
but I was intact.
Do you like oranges?
Do they sell them in red nets where you are?

Hello, she said, again
Hello, Hello, Hello.
Her voice is always there, it is tricky.
It is soothing but it never calms my nerves.
What do you want this time?
Hello, Hello, Hello.
Echo said hello.
Didn't she?
She was trapped forever.
Hello, Hello, Hello.
Trapped means birds
Birds mean feathers
Feathers that tickle noses and make us laugh.
Hello, Hello, Hello.