5/31/2015

lately I have found
mostly everything
of mine's simplified

and my breath rattles
three or four steps at
a time, keeping in uniform

with my eyelash batting
and i have so much to say
like speaking of the G train

or the wooded ravine
in Prospect, the sandy
spurs stabbing shins in cape may

and so something that
would have been so
delicately put only

some months ago
seems like only a wasted
little movie reel in my head

as i sit sedated,
suicide watch girl
grey and sleeping.

5/30/2015

today is your birthday
and although it seems just like
four words strung together, a
part of me wants to say happy birthday, we haven't spoken in 5 months, but it's ok, because you're not who you were a year ago anyways.

what a hallmark card.
I have spent the past 48 hours staring
at the beams trying to imagine
a happy death
because of unrelated events.

i woke up with dried blood on my
face for some reason or other today,
in the cavernous trash pit of my room
and I declared this a sign.

5/26/2015
may 23rd, 2015

night of my birth
black brackish lapping at the boadwalk and the painted
hermit crab shells for sale with ****** fencing cages on the boardwalk
i can relate to them

holding your hand was nothing i had to consider
i just did it
and as we look out onto the wild woods
on the top of the ferris wheel i glance at the moon.
1/4. last time it was a full moon

5/10/2015
Brooklyn, NY

the smarting sun on my
neck nape (this was built for me)
and the crook of my back
building subliminal ponds and
dripping little monsoons of salt

and you held me while different
little ponds were flying this time
out of my tear ducts and it is monsoon season in the countries they get salt from, after all

the heat of the sun on my skin of
course and the unfairness of it all but the security like a little latch or something. Lots of water today everywhere except the dry sky.

5/6/2015

may 2nd,2015
Lying in the dried gutter with White
by the 11:30 light of the
may moon

  It seemed, to me,
a quiet sylvan scene
the dried out cat tails in the mooreland
bordered by the soft tufts of forest grove.

I drop my cigarette stubbed now into the half empty Heineken
"Yeah I finished it" throw it at the cemented bank
its ember stained glass church body
shattering into pieces
"just a smattering of a
headache," she says, her cigarette finger pressed against a bottle (multitasking)
"the surgery is next week," we lie down on the grass now which is cold.  

Since when do we care?
"i kind of hope i die." a million stars
dangling over the heavens
I envy the ones who burn out unspectacularly.

I'm in my backyard
spinning wildly
around and around and around
shouting lyrics out to the sky.

I am free again
the grass pressed against my back
every flower grows above me
and I am alright with growing smaller
shrinking myself into the leaves
and I am flying.

I'm in my backyard
spinning wildly
shouting lyrics to our song
and I'm starting to stumble over the words
and my own feet
but at least I'm beginning to forget who you were
and I feel alright.

5/2/2015
In the golden light through the window
Of July I could imagine how I looked quivering and the premonition of my betrayal months from now a maelstrom.