men see me
little more than a face
legs
****
*******

to you
i am only a hole for you
to stick your **** into.

i am so much more than that.

i have eyes and fingertips
ankles and feet to hold me up as you kick me down.

i was 12 and naive
when i was *****

i was 17 and in love
when i was *****.

i was 19 and moving too fast.
when i was *****.


did you know that you ***** me?
did it ever cross your tiny ball of grey matter that i meant no when i said it?
that the look on my face was not pleasure
but pleading
for you to stop?

no, it may not have hurt my beautiful little cuntgirl
but it hurt the girl inside my heart

and she hates you

she never wants to see you again.

did you know that you ***** me once?

i was 12
on a tattered couch
reeking of cigarettespotandcatpiss.

and he pushed my head further down
until i gagged
and i gagged

over and over
did you know that you ***** me?


whatever reason.
whatever reason you gave me
will never
could never
heal this anger
and disgust.


i was 17
when he assumed
that i wanted his **** inside me.
and he granted me the favor
over and over
and i loved him too much to say no
but i cried
when it was over.
and i left him in his sad armchair
with his pants around his knees
and my heart on my sleeve

but no more.


i was 19
and i was no longer stupid
i knew that two weeks was too fast
i knew that if he asked, i would say no

i told myself, if he asks, i will say no.
i will tell him no if he asks.
i knew that if he asked, i would say no.

he never asked.

he penetrated
and shoved against me like bulldozers

and left me feeling so cold
with my head on his chest


but you were not the first
and you will probably not be the last
man
to see ME as a hole

for your ****


did you know that you ***** me?

you did.

if you were items in a box

you could never be
boxers
and old photos

because you wear briefs
and we never take pictures together
and I love that.

you haven't yet realized?.

i don't need to separate you from everyone: two three four twenty six boys and girls that once loved me.

do not ever be offended
by the memories of them that i keep
because the memories of them
made me into the girl that you fell in love with.

can you understand?

you planted a whole *** of red carnations in my heart
never dying from cold snow
or too much rain

you will never be an old heart bracelet

because moon earrings will always stay in my ears


you will never be a shoebox of letters

because i keep yours under my pillow.



you could never be
a christmas box of tears

because i could only ever cry into your chest.

to put you in that box

well, i couldn't.

i can only think of our roadtrip and our laughter


i could never put you in a box

do you get it?

i used to slide razors across my skin
and watch the blood run
down my fingertips


i used to steal things from drug stores
and laugh at retards


I used to pull my cat by the tail
until she ran away
and i got so heartsick
i cried on the front stoop
calling her name, begging her to come back.



i used to hate children
and i made money babysitting.

set the kids in front of the TV
and raid the kitchen.
I'm serious. I used to do that.


I used to be proud
when i told people i was an atheist
and

i hated God

and I used to think


He hated me


too.

i'm so sorry
my dear little darling

that i couldn't protect you
from the flame and the cold


maybe you could come home
and live here with me
in my closet
and you could make my dresses smell like your cute little perfume bottles
and your sweet deoderant sticks

i miss your skinny body, holding you in my arms
girly
you were my daughter
my mother
my sister


don't ever let anyone tell you to stop being you

I should write,
                 I keep writing about
Men
                  In my life
and they tear me apart

I want to write about
my ****
                    and my feet

and my knuckles
                                because those

          are the things that matter;;

                                                                 today.
I should write.
                    I can't write
about anything that doesn't involve body
parts or some sort of
        soul connection

and, like gonorrhea becomes
resistant to antibiotics
                                        over time


you, are
slowly


becoming resistant to
                   my *******.

Déjenlas ir a sus casas
Sanas y salvas.
Paren la contaminación
En nuestras personas.
Nuestros niños están llorando
Pero hay silencio en los campos
Nuestras personas
Tienen hambre
Déjanlas comer
Nuestras personas
Tienen sed
Déjanlas beber
?Que están haciendo?
Ustedes beben con vasos de cristal
Pero nuestras personas
Beben con las latas sucias.
Nosotros estamos hacienda una función
Pero el público es ciego
Y algunas cierran los ojos
Abran los ojos
Las pesticidas están matándonos
Paren
Y no les importa
Tenemos el poder
De levantarnos.
Vamos a trabajar
Para nuestra libertad.
!Den la libertad!

I remember when
ice was glass and the sky flew
That line makes no sense

Haikus are dific—

Haikus are quite hard.
This poem is total crap…. now.
….
refrigerator.

I ponder meaning
and the purpose of haikus.
A watermelon.

Seven syllables
what is the point of these things?
I am so bored now

just saying the words
omitting lines that make sense
‘cuz of syllables

I should just give up
But it’s finally easy
Okay, maybe not

he can't build you the world
                       no purpose
                                    or magic mirror
                    show me the truth
                                       !
                              a feeling
                           a bigger boat?
                                go ahead
here's looking at you
                    and me
                          together

**** up
***** up
make up
make up stories
make up lies
lie down
lie with you
you're still mad
i can tell

i have rugburn
on my face
and on my heart
from you

dragging me around
this old
               putrid
house

We’re running out of time, wasting it
On *** and money and food and sleep.
And we sometimes forget to be happy.
We forget about important things
Like crowns made out of dandelions and kissing in the rain.
But I think I have figured it out.
I had to retrace my steps, start from the beginning

“When I was a kid I used to cut my wrists”

and if that’s not bad enough

I finally grasped that everyone else did too

And I can’t even remember why I wanted to die

But when YOUR daughter is found dead

pumped full of pills

and hate

How do you tell your wife?

do you even remember to cry?

Light up a cigarette

Pour yourself a drink

you try so hard to feel something so you won’t have to think

about the mortgage, the baby, the unemployment checks that stopped

coming last month.

And you’re bored.

But LIFE is not something that you watch.
I get confused when I hear complaints
about the kid next door
because he’s playing his guitar too loud

But his neighbors
never sit and enjoy the music.

There was a dark Friday
When eighteen thousand people were buried or never found in Japan,
and I heard people safe in America saying,
“well, the earth was really overpopulated.”
While I shed a tear for every single soul that would never get to go home again.
And it still didn’t feel like enough.

I’m still trying to figure it out but I know that
We’re just complex connections
of molecules and nerve endings
and blood cells, protons, neutrons.
And we’re NOT going to live forever.

And it’s not our fault that we can’t understand that there is no time to be worried

There is only feeling.
Scared feelings and blue feelings and numb feelings
and the blending of these things,
FEElings

finally create this thing we call love
and no, we don’t understand it.
all we know are
*** and money and food and sleep
and sometimes love gets lost in the days
and no, we don’t always remember that it’s there


I am forced to watch Hate being passed around the circle like a bottle of cheap wine
and everyone takes a sip, because it’s what you do.

And that’s when I plug my ears

contemplating why God didn’t give us instruction manuals

but I’ll try my best to figure it out

i wanted you to know
that the other day,

i went ice skating           in St. Paul.                      

in the middle of the city.

                                             (there was an old man that looked like Santa doing beautiful graceful twirls,
                                                         two teenage girls holding hands, one was blushing
                                                                         lots of little kids falling down, and laughing as they got back up)

and i thought "you would have loved this."

you would hold my hand
like all the other couples
and i wouldn't be cold

                                                           ­     at all



you would have looked right through me
with your jaded eyes
and smiled beautifully




(i would know that it was me making you happy)

your hair growing back
and your lips all mine to kiss


and i wouldn't miss you so much.

i've been cranky
as hell.


i have not been laid
in three weeks


i'm looking for an easy fix
so tease me
tease me
squeeze


lick
slip fingers on my hips
nibble on my lips

                     draw lines on my stomach
                      and underneath my *******
                                                         ­            with your tongue.

full lip kisses on my freckles
smell my hair
-----just how it is

slice me open with your fingertips


moan into my love button
make me cry


someone



excite me

letters to boys
in boxes


i am done with you now.
your poems and pretty words were read many times


letters to boys
in boxes
shoe boxes

filled with sweet missing and coo coos and little lip kisses


i really like to read them
more than once
and picture faces
of boys

and smiles
smiles and kisses in little folded notes in boxes

i keep some in a drawer
in my big blue house

some under the floorboards
of the cream house with the mean neighbors

some under a dorm room bed

and some in a desk, yes.

i have boxes and boxes

one for each boy.

none of them
mean any more
to me
than the next.

but don't tell me "what a waste of paper"

because each word

soothes me
like a new hand
touching my spine
in the dead of night

each word is like a new soft whisper
from a something someone

that makes me feel
so warm


so

i'll burn them all.

and make a bonfire of lovepoems, sweet kisses, your sweet ******* earlobes

and create a sanctuary for
myself
in the fire

I could hit you
Because How can we
                        Make love
if I don't know You

You *******

                 You stranger

I'm supposed to be happy with

                 you


But you just make me

want to
               hit my skull against
the air conditioner

                    until I pass out

from loss of blood fluids


and you are so oblivious
                               to this.

I am oddly expected
to understand and
            enjoy learning about
scientific experiments

when all I can
bring my body to
            think about

is long tanned legs
******* that jump out
at me, like happy birthday michelle
she's so dripping wetmoist, shiny like a windshield
red pink and lightly browned
and I am so glad to be female.

wow
        biology is a waste of time

                           i should have taken anatomy

tall and soft,
strong and low
exciting and down to earth
quiet and thoughtful
kind and sweet

shy
but
so very

honest

and

smells like
lying in the grass

my first boyfriend, Jimmy Brennen
whose sweatshirt always smelled of cheetos
and Axe

or the man who sat on the waterrushed rocks
and kissed me,
tongue tasting of
lake water


or when i held a girl's (Debbie's)
breast
cupped in my hand for the first time,
pressed closely together in secret
how wonderfully soft and warm


but
this person

doesn't even have to

touch me

and i smile from

ear to ear
just looking at

his

hands
.

communication is always a plus.

late at night when i finally tell you
that i don't know you.

and i want to.

and you respond in the perfect way;
you just talk to me





about the **** that matters, for once

not about our plans for the day or the monotonous "i miss you, do youmissme?"

but about the inside of your soul

you take it out of your bellybutton
turn it inside out
and show me,
everything

i needed this


to make sense of myself.

he thinks about it minute by minute
month after month

and how sweetly he craves
ravenous for its wetness and **** taste

and sweat that will pour out of her
he wants that too

and he thinks “I would be gentle, tender, loving”

but he passes her--silently on the bus every morning
contemplating her ivory thighs
and sighs into a tissue when he gets home every night
and wishes for something more than his wife can give him

something new

but God made all vaginas alike

we've become accustomed

to a beautiful schedule

of setting alarms for

three in the morning

and we preview how

it feels to sleep together

we intertwine our naked

bodies

yours, wide and tough, smooth

mine, curved and soft, round

and you said to me

that this is your favorite place

in the world.

how sad; to think of emptiness

when you leave

each night

I remember every inch of you
and those memories come
back to haunt me now, while i
toss and turn, attempting
any semblance of rest.

but there is no escaping you.
you are so clear, so fresh
in my mind that, when
i close my eyes, i imagine
i can hear you breathing in
this bed next to me.
i feel the warmth of
your skin. i feel your
hands on my waist,
pulling me close while
your full lips press against
mine, my fingers in
the hair at the back
of your neck

I can see every tiny detail
of your face.
the mole near your lip,
the tiny scar on your
forehead, the skin tab
on your eyelid, the little
hairs on your chin and cheeks.

the softness of your skin
how it was perfect.
plush to the touch,
not skinny or hard
but not fat

the way your ***** hair would
have the most perfect tiny
curls, how it felt between
my fingers. Soft, unexpectedly

the hair on your legs made
you manly. your calves
so strong. Anyone could
see that those legs
were going to take you
places.

How- when i would
straddle your stomach and
you would pull your arms
above your head,
                 valleys would form

valleys would form in your
armpits, where your glorious
scent was the one
smell that let me know
i was home.

You were my home.

Valleys would form, craters
would appear in your
collarbone, jutting out in
a way that i couldn't
resist touching.

your *******, tiny
hills. you would always
complain, but
you were so beautiful.

the toenails on your big toes
were broad and flat
hair growing on the
                        top of your foot


if only you were here
      tonight

I would kiss every inch of you

until you truly understood

how much I miss you.
I miss you.
You and only you.

mi Alejito,
                mi amor

thank you.

you know me so well
and you know that my past
has been filled with a lot of mistakes

like an open umbrella sitting outside in the rainstorm,
the only thing weighing me down is the rain i've caught
without these mistakes, i'd simply blow away in the cold wind.

you know me inside and out.
we spent countless moments in each other's arms
in your warm comfort and wise words.

you made me feel amazing.


you
are
the one
person

who could truly change me.


you knew who i was.
you knew who i wanted to be

and without knowing,
you helped me become that person.


you helped me understand who i am.
i'm the girl that plays ukulele
and writes poetry
and does amazing things for women.


i don't know how my life would like if you had never walked into it
i have an idea, yes.
but i don't care to describe it here
for fear
it would upset you.


i will never be the same.
i will never ever go back to
who i was

before i met you.


and for that,

i could thank you
a million times
with cheek kisses and a lifetime of happiness

but it would never be enough.

so thank you.
**thank you for being a part of my life.

We teach our kids how to use keyboards
But we can’t make them want to write
Anything meaningful or important
Like (love or peace or hurt or hearts or good or bad or taste,sight,touch,smell
FEEL)


We teach them how to use computers
because we know that most of them
will sit behind a desk for the rest of their lives.
trying to pretend that they are satisfied with themselves
trying to ignore the fact that this paycheck is just a SLIP of FANCY PAPER with not enough numbers on it.
trying to forget that grey hair they found on their crown in the bathroom that morning,

They’ll sit at their mahogany desk in their black tassel shoes
and think “at least I got a job that I can use my degree for”

But when they went to college,
they always wanted to major in English

But they knew that they couldn’t get a job
With that degree
So they took the easy way out
And studied technology
And now,

They teach kids how to use keyboards on weekends

the geese are leaving minnesota

they are gathering food for their long flight across the country
and i wonder where they will go

i hope, that

they might make it to you
down south
or wherever you are

and maybe you will meet the geese
that i pass on my way to work

the geese that i give a part of my bagel to
in the mornings where the ground is too hot for them to find food


maybe you will give them
some friendly love

like i always try to


maybe you will wave hello to them
if you see them

when they migrate to where you are
the way i wish i could have
six months ago

in seven and a half days
you will pick me up (from the airport
and i will pick you up (from the slump you've been in
and we will hold each other there
in the air

in seven and a half days
my mind will finally be at rest
i no longer have to snap back into focus
after dozing into daydreams of
your sweet skin

in seven and a half days
my heart will burst from the feelings you elicit
inside of me, you keep me afloat
the world tries to pull me under
you save me

in seven and a half days
our worlds will collide
after remaining seemingly separate for months
I will know the people you know
we will share

in seven and a half days
i will not worry about grades
or missing the bus or getting fat or being alone
you will extract the ****
replace with beauty

in seven and a half days
your arms will become my safe haven
your body envelops mine, covers me
i have never felt so safe
in my life

in seven and a half days
our bodies will melt into each other
waking up next to you
kiss your forehead, toes intertwine
yours mine ours

in seven and a half days
I will love you
-in person.

i found a letter that i wrote to you
stuck in the case of my favorite cd.

signed

i love you,
          -michelle

when i saw those words
i thought about
                 standing in your driveway
shaking as you held me
               we were fixing the mistakes we'd made
And I thought about you pushing me
                                    in that shopping cart
hair in my face and laughter in my mouth

And I keep going back to the
time we slept on the floor
the snow falling heavy like blankets outside
                       your neck was a magnet for my lips
                       my fingers were glued in between yours
                       my eyes could not blink for looking at you



When i found the letter i wrote to you
signed

i love you,
          -michelle

at the bottom

I tore it into a thousand minuscule pieces

my tears inking my own ****** words
                into my fingertips

It is such an enormous privilege
to have access to fresh, wholesome, healthy food
at my fingertips,
the garden I built at full bloom in
my backyard

fresh spinach basil kale lettuce onions

much like your love is on the tip of my tongue

to eat and drink in the presence of You
is to experience pure pleasure -
                                           pure joy

a bowl of fresh strawberries
         a warm omelette bursting with sweet and spicy aroma

they tell me I should open a restaurant
        they tell me that my cooking is like a meal dipped in gold

but the food never tastes as good
      without you smiling at me

without you holding me in a soft sway
                to the music
                                           in our mouths

     without you
                                     life is bland

i made love to myself
on the bed where
we used to sleep
next to each other
just last summer

at first,
to get myself off,
i imagined random men and women in my life
pushing against me
pleasing me

Then,
your face
and your body
intruded into my soft and vulnerable mind

and my moans
quickly turned into
very different sounds

and I felt tears in my eyes

I started to sob
my body grew limp
and i exhaled, pulling out of myself

turning onto my side, pulling the blankets over my body


the makeup from last night running into my eyes

I sobbed

because you are more beautiful
than i

and although months
(which felt like years)
have gone by

I still miss you
                       like we said goodbye
only yesterday


and my fingers
are ugly and sharp
compared to your

gentle slender ******* hands.

All
That I can
do is smile as
I look at you, and
this pen runs out of ink.
You make me feel so warm inside,
so wholesome - so worthwhile - so
meaningful. Love is such a wonderful
experience. I close my eyes + I don't
see anything, but I feel everything. Moments
like these, I never want them to end.
I can't think of a good metaphor
to describe how my heart feels, but I'll
try my best to explain: it feels round,
heavy -  full with caring, the desire to share.
It wants so badly to
touch yours. I
feel so incredibly
wonderful.
Thank you.

love always ends with someone getting ****** over-

you said.

well, i guess i want to know-
-need to know-

was it worth it?





     before you go
allow me

to slap that cigarette out of your hipster mouth


and whisper

"when you grow up,

i hope you're better than you are now"

If I wrote a poem for
      you
              every time you crossed
                 my mind
I would never be without a
           pen in my hand.

But as it stands
        my mind has stopped

   finding words to  put on
      paper

but my heart knows

how
       I feel

and how
                I think
about
     you

every time I
     take an order
             for a Left-hand
                     Milk-Stout
    at the restaurant
         where I now work

Maybe the finches were a
sign that I can't fly
anymore. Maybe you have
clipped my wings






****.

                         I told myself

that I wouldn't write about
you

                            today.

When you achieve perfection
                      in your own
sense of self

           you will never again
   need      to
                         seek it out


in other people.

your sweet moss covered
lips
caress my aching wide hips

your hot chocolate breath
flows through the fabric of my dress

sweetly
              sweetly

we lie
       in our nest


once again

i had to shove my fat cat into a tiny kennel that was too small for her fat ***.
we took her to the vet.
she ****** in the kennel.
it wasn't her fault.

the visit cost 165 dollars, out of pocket.
so basically, we paid them to clean the **** out of the kennel.
and to clean the ******* of her tail.
and to tell us that she's fat.
(i already knew this.)


when we got home, i opened the door of the tiny kennel.
she stalked out,
looked around as if she didn't know where she was.
she squished her fat ***
BACK into the kennel
and peed.
and stood in there.

just looking at me.
this scares me,
does she need to go back to the vet?

you aren’t here
and you don’t know that i
love you countless ways

in a different way than how
we used to kiss in that tall tree of hope

I love your thing
your whiskers
your coarse black  hair in the
    nest of where I spend my nights(a slugabed)
your trunk, rooted deeply
in your strong muscular back
and I love your
feet.
your
wide
toenails

c o v e r i n g   t h e   e n t i r e t y   o f    t h e   t o p   o f   y o u r    t o e.
I love your words
and I know that they mean what they are
nothing more

and I love how I trust you
I trust you with the,
Frailty   of   my,   sickly body
and my cardiovascular device
and you hold it with those fingertips that
--so often hold me

mistakes are mended by your fingers
hands are held by your fingers
mysteries are managed by your hands and
each finger does its duty


and ever and again you don’t understand why I do things
why I push you away
like a baby that won't open its mouth for medicine
I cannot make sense of these things either
and I wish
(on every kiss, sweetness dear)
that I didn’t do them
but sometimes life makes
--you wonder what am I doing
driving on the left side of the road

You were the ocean
infinite in some ways
mysterious and dark, impossible to reach the bottom

Powerful, pushing me and shifting my weight from standing to floating

You were the ocean
large, expansive
But so soft, a carrying presence
I knew you would never set me down

That fateful day
I was standing on the shore, picking tiny shells out of the sand to give to you, lifting my skirt so as not to get it wet

I saw the wave growing in the distance, but I didn’t think to move
As it grew closer, I did not panic.
10 feet, 20 feet, 30 feet tall. A wall
and when your freezing cold wave crashed over me
I still didn’t think to move

You could never hurt me.

Under your abyss, I could see my red hair turn to kelp
Thirty feet long, rooted in the ground

I begged you to release me, swallowing salty seawater
But you held fast

You were so beautiful
you could never do a thing like this

I always thought you would be the ocean under my boat
The wind in my sails
The love in my heart


But I drowned that day


I am still trying to determine
If I will ever grow gills

working here,
  i get the sense that everyone
is a little ****** up
   Either insecure or vain and
full of themselves
         too quiet or too loud
  too trusting
      or they're constantly getting  
    ****** over

Am i the girl that will
    break you or make you?
will I build you up
or tear you down

I want this to be a mutual decision

black
navy blue with white laces
scuffed
ripped
            i have so many pairs of shoes
they have seen my pain
sipped my sweat
protecting my sweet feet
my hairy toes with thick toenails

those shoes
          little boats
i sail in them
                 letting them take me where
they think
     i should go.




why are they always right?

I have no idea
if you're reading
this and

if you are
I would like to apologize

for causing you pain
which would have
inevitably come

           from
my love for you

which,
           I have tried
to make disappear
             but so far;
                      no luck.

and by that i mean
i am in complete awe of you.

and that's probably why i get quiet when i'm around you.
my brain shuts down
the only ***** in my entire body that works anymore is my heart
the beat quickens and
i can hear my own thump thump
desperately wanting to hold you close enough
so you can hear it, too

blood pumping to my fingertips,
wrapped around whatever i can get a hold onto
to keep from falling---

I get quiet around you
because
i am too engrossed in the feelings that you inject into me,
when you speak
when your gorgeous ruined torn up fingers scatter themselves across piano keys

just the sound of your voice
it seems to resonate in my ears


and i can't help but feel as though my heart might explode
from all the beauty i have stumbled across
in this otherwise, very lonely terrifying world

here's the thing
about self mutilation



it kills me
slowly softly

gives me what i need


and here's the thing about self mutilation


the red neediness
the cold pane from windows

raining outside
raining inside



i'm covered in it


i'm covered in red
red covering


my red
smeared


across my eyelids

dripping from the scar tissue
and scars to be made,
this year


and next year and next year


yes.

self mutilation
how I've missed you

with my heart

        and my ukulele
on my sleeve

            i beg of you
just finish me off.

                  just fill my
lungs with black tar
                  and muck

cancer i welcome you


i'm sick of these scars
         i draw on my skin
                          with safety pins
and swords

                     i may as well
        just cut off my limbs

        hang myself from the chandelier
bury myself in the snow in my yard


                                                                    Don't come
                                                                               looking
                                                                    for me

In the beginning all I wanted to be was a dancer
An astronaut
A genius  
A teacher
After that an architect

I remember being young and wanting to be a firefighter
Then scientist
Then a football player
And after a while I wanted to be a novelist,
Later a musician
And for a bit I even thought I might want to be a senator
Then a vagabond
Wandering the ***** streets and paved highways
Then a poet
And here I am


Writing these words,
pretending that they mean something,
and of course, they don’t
and they won’t until I

become
beautiful
a model
a mom
a *******
and these words won’t mean anything until I have lived them

YOU
Know that these words don’t mean a **** thing
But I gotta write them anyway
Because otherwise my thoughts will drown in my head,
Kicking and screaming for their lives,
while this blue ocean falls and crashes over them
And I want to be a fighter pilot.
I wanted to be a star
That shines brightly in the bathed black night sky
I wanted to be a hero.
I wanted to save and be saved
From the ground that keeps falling on me
After my fair share of dreaming
I soon became an artist
I became silent for a while
Developing thoughts
And movements
Developing myself behind closed doors
Empty spaces
Screened windows
In the end all of us become what were supposed to be
Not matter how hard we try that’s the best we can do
In the end, that’s all we ask for

And in the end, I was a friend.
I was needed.
I was there.
I am here.
And I can’t keep wishing that I was something, because this is what I am.
And this is how my life is
Every day, brushing my teeth like it’s the most important task I have ever been given.
And I
AM
Nothing important.
that's alright with me

They were scattered all over my house,
                                                      in a mess. An explosion of you, everywhere
I took the old plane tickets to Texas
                                 the movie stubs from a year ago
      these letters, in smudged envelopes

                          I found homes for them.
Tucked away safely in places I can find
                                                  them again.
I like to take them out
              hold them in my hands,
                                        feel memories wash over me

of warm sun on my red hair,
of tears salty on my lips
of your beautiful fingers around mine


I put my music in its case,
        my poems on the shelf,
              my love on the windowsill

Taking the parts of my past that I don't like
              giving it away;
                                        some goes in the trash.
                                                (but I know I won't miss
                                                                ­  any of it.)
I need to make room
     I need to make space
               for the letters, movie stubs, plane tickets
I need to make room for
                       new memories
                               with you.

A new future

                         with you.

i never want you to know
how needy i am
                             (you will run away,
                                                   with your superfastsneakers)

But I wonder
                   if being needy
is the one thing that makes
me human. In that case,
I want you to know that I need you all the
time. And when I PUSH
you away, pull me right
back in. It's just a test.

There will be times when
I seem mad. I am.
Kiss my nose and my
cheeks. Don't let me
stay mad. Let me cry
into your button-up shirt
until it's stained
with my make-up.

I will always need you.

ten words
I simply can't
   escape you
but do I want to?

haiku
you caress my mind
delicately with soft words
    I miss your hands more

10 words
difficult to imagine
your grace and charm
wasted
               on Texas.

haiku
chairs and warm coffee
I sit obsessed with letters
your envelope, brown

10 words
I want you
to move back.
Home- be with me

haiku
I can't really press
you will make your own choices
But I stay hopeful.

10 words
maybe
someday
soon, you
will come back around this direction.

haiku*
confession of mine
I dream of your voice and hands
startled, awaken.


I've said some things
to you, in the past
in that space/time
     continuum that

have whipped me into shape

            why I thought
I could do better than
                               you

I have no idea


but I hope you dance
                    more now

      and I hope you
never lost your sweet
                            smile

Because when I can't
   sleep,      I
throw the blankets off of me,
and I think hard- imagining
a perfect relationship

                      and realize
that perfection does not exist

      but I always
think,
                     "I got pretty
close to perfect
             with you."

i met a new friend.
we get along pretty well.

one day, we were walking through ikea

and he called me a train-wreck
and laughed.

he probably thought that he had said it in a way
that was convincingly facetious
(joking.

but there was a note in his voice
that made me realize

he was, in fact, serious.

and i still don't know him well enough
to tell him

that no one has ever found a more accurate word
to describe me

So right now I’m confused
Reading Howl is a lot
of work
   But I’ve heard
that it’s worth it.
But I’m distracted
by the stubble on my legs
and my sharp toenail digging against the
inside of my fetid weakened shoe
and how my mouth tastes
like sour milk


I should have
brushed my teeth.
I’m distracted by the macabre yellows and
emerald greens swimming in my head
I’m being thrown off by the ads
and the sadness
and the media
that is inescapable.
by the *** and the commercials and the products and the stores
so inhuman
like I used to be
before I learned how to breathe.
I’m vomiting.
I want to crash through the ceiling of the people living their
maddening
bitter lives in the apartment below mine
and I feel light in my head
like it might float away,
filled with air.

But my legs are so heavy

Like anchors
just begging to break

through the table that I’m
sitting on


And now I’m thinking
about death.
how did Ulysses S. Grant
feel about death?

It makes me wonder
I hate wondering about things
because I never come to the right conclusion
I can never figure it out
how does death work?

does it hurt?
is there
a period of time where you
know that in a few
moments, you will cease to
exist.?- - - (except to those that
find your body, naked and wet
on your roof top)
How did you get
up there?
I floated
you can’t float
Yes I can.

Every gorgeous living day
I feel alive
          When I wake up.
I look around when I walk
I don't stare at my shoes.
There are pigeons that coo
           from the roof of the
library,        purring happily
                            from the height
I look up at them with
                       a smile on my face
fully knowing
         knowing fully
                           that people
are "staring" at me
         because I'm smiling
into the sky with my
head thrown back.

And I pass lovely people
who are fully unaware

that they are unique.
that they are truly worth
     something.

But other days, I pass 20
different people
        and I feel as though
I have just passed

             the same person
                      20 times.

This town is a bubble.
         I hate that I'm
the only ******* person
that loves those pigeons.

I need someone
         anyone

to show me that they're alive

:that they're not too
           BUSY

to appreciate the fact that
the air they're breathing
        is clear like a wine class
                      and that the sky is a gorgeous
metallic shiny brand new blue

I need someone who
         will

prove it to me.

                  Prove to me that they deserve to
walk around
on this ground.

While they
don't write poetry
don't feel much
don't contribute

                               because they're
                                    too BUSY.

**** BUSY people.

I want to meet people

that appreciate that
they're alive.
I want to meet people

        that scream
                 laugh
                           cry
                      love

People who pick up trash on the street

People who spend time reading books to kids

People who sew their own clothes

People who clap at the end of a great movie and stay until all the credits have rolled

People who will look up
                   when they hear
                           the library pigeons.