I don't remember much:
There was a great crash
and a sense of falling.
There was a sinking feeling
and an instinct to leave at once.
Then there came a thought,
that I had been here before.
How many times,
Walking on broken glass
It seems no matter how
soft my steps
or care to position
I still come up with ****** feet.

I don't want to be that girl:
who sits and assures
It's all right!
I don't feel a thing!
The truth is, I feel everything
(only)in dark hues
of blue and green.

I'm not quite sure:
whose fault it is.
You've given me
thoughts
like cuts to the bottom of my feet
You've given me broken glass
for my thoughts
You've given me a love
for the color of a rose
best when seen out of my veins.
You've given me everything I've wanted
And you want it back.
Tell me whose fault is that?

Open palms in passenger seats
Waiting for warmth,
the familiarity of the cracks--
calluses--that map routes
In your palms.
We go for Sunday drives,
Get lost in Daisyville.
It's romantic to say,
so you and I never could do.
Open palms in passenger seats
Waiting for relief.
Open palms in passenger seats:
close to fists
When Neon Signs are Lit,
(When my mind goes to ****).
Open palms on steering wheels,
Open eyes to Open Skies:
Still hopelessly lost in the dark.

Sitting in a circle--
though I do not take part.
A picture of youth,
a caption of distance.
A constant reminder:
things get passed around.
Like circles.
Never starting,
or ending.
On and on.

It would be naive to think
I had learned all there was to learn
Of life and love and death.
But, oh!
I never thought
I could be so mistaken
On any subject ever.
It is a hard lesson to learn,
That every lesson you have learned
Is not based in fact at all.
It would be such a relief
To have never lived at all.
To have loved at all.
To have never known the death
Of our loved one's lives.

I could count the bodies, the kisses, the stolen glances, the cotton mouths, the goosebumps, the shivers, the articles of clothing--


But I don't remember much-- that is I've tried so hard to forget-- about those nights. It's working, it's working, it's working. Just don't dwell for too long.


I never liked the way those nights painted me: Confused, embarrassed, and on the verge of insane. I can remember that room and that bed and that couch.

Had I known
When you called
We would play
I would not have
Spent the time
Figuring what
To say
Or wear

Blue Jay, you fly so bold and true.
Blue bird, I’d do anything to be like you.
You’d do anything for me?
Even if it means losing your wings?
I’m a black bird,
I will wait for the word.
Then I fly.
But you’ll perch on the branches so close to me.
I’m sorry, but it’s hard to see out here
I didn’t think I was nested near you (I hope I was).
I was?
I was!
I’m glad. I’m sad, and all in between.
I’m black and blue and teeming-
With few words from this blistered beak.