i am streaming

like feathers and electric cords

across the floor

my hair is spread
like spilled water
over this persian rug that i lay upon


i spread my legs

jolene
i am naked

and waiting for you


i am
hungry

and i am

weak
from running

but the sweat
feels like a cold shower


and i cringe
and wince
from the pleasure
i tremble


from every flick
and every lick


oh, jolene


i would pay so much more than thirty dollars

for the pleasure you bestow upon me

thank god for the *******.

on a lonely day
on a lovely day


the clouds overhead are promising rain

i'm just waiting
for the water to pour from the sky

so that i might dance in it.

While daydreaming
during my morning
ritual,
           scars aching from
the hot water on my
skin,
         Make-up runs into
my hair
                 my fingertips
start to crinkle
like my eyes used to
                                       whenever our lips met.

I look down on my left
       breast
                    and see a
                    dark brown
                    eyelash
                   resting there
                    it is not mine.

It has a new meaning now.

I pick it off,  blow
it off my finger

I do not make a wish.

to shed one's own skin
is a painful process

letting go of something that was once a part of you
makes you question your existence in the world

who am i

i peel this layer of skin away
leaving paper thin paper white patches all over this house

the skin underneath is red and raw

in some places, i peeled away too much
and the skin bleeds

but the pink flesh is so beautiful

I am so beautiful

i have removed and discarded the shell of me
i will start anew

skin replenishes itself
and i will be a new person

but

i will also be me



the skin will fall away and grow back
and
this new skin will be untouched

by you


but for some reason
no matter how much skin is peeled away,

these scars are always visible


i desperately search for ways to speed up this process

to change into a new person
a person who knows how to be content

a person who has never known you,
and therefore will never miss you




but as it is,
my body is bleeding
my hair falls out in clumps

and my heart aches
for you

underneath these broken ribs

My hair and your hair
     in the sun
appearing to set the world ablaze
               like my heart feels now
like a sinking stone in a clear blue rushing cold river
like bruises on both my knees
like breathlessness, 150 feet suspended in the air
             lowered slowly by your gorgeous hands
breathless
like waking up tied around your hot skin
like hot tears in my morning coffee.

like writing poetry to send messages to you via universe vibes mail

How to tell you i miss you
how to express that my soul has melted
or disintegrated

As if Chernobyl occurred in Northeast Minneapolis

Killing us both -
I'm simply waiting. When
will the green luscious vines and plants, butterflies
and birds repopulate this barren space -

filled with the worst kind of poison

Not for another thousand years
Or at least
not until
Spring
Summer
Fall

Does it have to get worse before
              it gets better?
                            are we going to
                            drown
   before we grow gills?

             or can we depend on each
                other to lift us out
                    of the deepest ocean
                         we've ever swam in

Who is benefitting?
                                     Who is angry?
Who is Dying?
                                Who is surviving?
Who is scared?
                               Who is speaking?
Why
           are
                  there disparities?      S   P        A    C    E   S

                                               between the
                   lives we want to live
                                           and
                                                       the ways we are
                                                                              shot in the
                                                                                         street

it's as if

we have known each other forever.
but i'm really glad we met last week.


because i know that

if you had known me when i was
suicidal
drugged up
glazed over ritalin eyes
sappy dramatic
lonely
teenage hormones
with an extra kick



in the chest



you would have ran in the other direction.

this shirt smells
like sadness
and joy
and home
      in the most
                    beautiful way

and i can't explain it to
you

but you know what i'm
trying to say

before i even part
my lips

I sit in a stranger's kitchen
in the town
we once called home
a bottle in one hand
and a pen in the
                        other.

the things i have done
                                      today
would have made you
                       so happy.

I smoked a cigar
and drank a hot caffeinated beverage
outside of our favorite coffee shop
at an old deteriorating wood table and some plastic chairs
while breathing in
the early autumn air.

I missed you
on the car ride from the interstate into town;
we passed the
park where we saw the
lights
               and you told the
man in the costume that
you wanted me to love
                                        you.

Do you remember when we
picked up trash?
        I do.
   You wore that sweater I
                                     like,
but you were still cold

I wanted to keep you
          warm

Today
I went to that store
you love, the one
you would insist we
always go into.
They moved down
the street to a
bigger location.
They have more games,
more cards.

I asked the owners
if they had seen you
lately. They remembered
                                     you

Because you were so tall
              and friendly:
two of my favorite things
about you.

I bought a card
    with a dragon on it,
the one I always thought
was so pretty.
I asked for it by name.
I remembered the name
                           after all this time.

Tomorrow I will see a parade
and spend time
with our friends.
   They miss you,

but not as much as I do.

I am so glad I
left this place

because it only makes    
        me sad and
                regretful.

I wish I had
           not given up

because your soul is
  more beautiful
             and full of truth
        and connection

          it is a soul I
             have been looking
                for in other
                          people.

You do not exist
     in other people.


You exist

in a town I've never seen

with people I've never met


and emotions I've
                       never felt.


but, to summarize

I had a perfect day
albeit I was *missing one thing

I let some guy **** me today.



I did not know him,
                                nor did I want to.


I simply slid into his bed
       and made myself hard and cold

I wanted, I think,
              to ******* out of my mind

But I only succeeded
                      in splitting myself into
   two parts.

The empty shell of me,

                   and my soul. My feelings,
       my emotions, my thoughts.
                  My strength and goodness

shrunk down to a wet pile in
the pit of my stomach

And it is only now
                          that I will
admit
                    that I am still in love with you.

Maybe that's my problem.
I don't know anymore.

I keep trying to identify what's wrong

                so I can just fix it.

Last week I had low self-esteem.
The week before that I was afraid of being alone
The week before that, I just
                loved you and I was
                scared that you'd leave.

and now you've left
                                     but you were the only
person that knew how to fix me

                                  when I'm broken

It cost her three and a half dollars to send me this white package filled with a bag of raisinets, a few cheap Valentine’s Day decorations, and a note saying “I’m proud of you”


It meant so much to me
She will really never know
I’m proud of her too

2:08 a.m
on a major freeway: completely empty except for
me

pulling off,
i see that only
the streetlights are still awake
red yellow green, red, yellow, green
I passed prostitutes
and pimps, too many drunks
too many homeless


to count.

thought of
How many people
at this moment
           are making love
How many

are getting *****

thought of
How many
are making choices
about what to wear
to work
tomorrow
today

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

This is it.
       I am leaving this
dark-holed up smelly bedroom
that does nothing for
me but give me a place
to sleep.

            And I wake up
and step out of my old ***** bed
        (sheets covered in
your       ***** sweat&tears;)

and I step softly
down the hallway


to the room with the hard tiled floor (chilling my toes )

and into the shower

to begin the process

of washing you out

of me

he seems so much bigger
than he used to
but i know he hasn't grown.
he'll never grow up

but he'll always be my mountain
tall and bigger than the sky
too large to handle
i'm just a little girl, after all.

he's crumbling, crushing me

i need to escape

i'm trapped under the rubble
of what failed.

how many have met you
with their lips
or fingertips

or their pumping blood ***** attached to their hips


how many have seen your redness
how many have felt the blood you bestow
each month

it trickles
like water down cave side walls



my cave
how many have seen you

and not wanted to touch

why do they always want to touch


I curl inside my cunte
on days when my heart stops beating
anvils on my eyelids
keeping everything out of sight


so i don't look
i touch


I feel
the words
the whispers
upon my skin
the hair of my mons crawling like Medusa's crown

snakes, serpents
slithering


around
whatever is put inside

I will ****
if anyone touches me
again

I have to protect
myself

the best sound in my entire world
is heavy breathing
unsynchronized
and the soft swishes of fingertips brushing over back-skin
and little gasps

of pure happiness

and i don't have to wonder anymore
if i am making music

or even if we're making love
because i am lying on beautiful cream colored clouds
in the back of your parents' van
and i don't think it really matters.

And Sometimes I
can't hear voices

but there's this sound--
one hundred people
inhaling smoke simultaneously
today is different than yesterday
      because i'm heavy
my stomach full
and swinging from left to right side
as if i'm with child
but my eyes, all the while
are watering,
they produce silky sweet wetness
a familiarity to me
the gossamer sheets stained scarlet
i wonder when that happened
and how i knew to wake up.

My eyes remember you
   differently than my skin does

I can see you
getting into your little white car
and driving away

blurry

        you didn't look back


I can feel the warmth of your skin
   under thick blankets
your softness was delicious

I can see you sitting at my kitchen table
speaking to my mother, but peeking at me
over raspberry tea
           cheeks pink, watery eyes
    Getting ready to leave
you are always leaving.

I can feel the soft strands
of your hair, my fingers wrapped
       around the nape of your
       neck, smoothing it down,
pulling gently.

I can see you looking at me,
staring at me, exasperated,
frustrated. Your mouth says
I can't do this
but your eyes say
I can't leave you, either


       I can picture you
at your warm and loving home


surrounded by the family I
never quite fit into

I can see you
holding on to your beautiful mother
then,
driving around our town
to look at pretty lights
maybe with your brothers,
maybe with someone new


Months later,
a whole year later ( only one day later) (after a whole lifetime has passed)


when I allow myself to close my eyes for a moment

I can feel your body holding mine

my feet tucked underneath me
my face pressed against your chest,
heart beating against my eardrum
your chin resting on my head

       I can feel your love
       emanating - shining
into me


                                    on this day
                I am grateful to have
                ever touched you


    I am grateful that I
            ever laid eyes on you.

my man has a sweet, soft nature
elegant and warm
he is a sea ~
often calm, but the storm is a beautiful and frightful place to be

my man has delicate fingers
they find pleasure inbetween the strands of my hair
against my thighs
behind my neck
underneath my shirt



my man is like the father i never had
stern with me
proud of me
invested in me


my man is my favorite person
when he sleeps he is perfect
when he speaks he is thoughtful
when he gives he is gorgeous
when he is frustrated with me i crumble


my man is devastating
devouring
deeply in love
divergent

my man is righteous
radical
real
ravishing



my man is no one's man
my man is his own love and his own sustenance
he asks me of so little and he gives so much

my man is a contradiction of too good to be true and standing right in front of me

my tiny cousin
with 8 years of age
compares you to the      
                           old boyfriend

the one that no longer crosses
my mind
                  at all

but you (darling-dear--)

you cross my mind every morning
                                             moment
                                                evening, alone

and my tiny cousin and I

agree

         that we like you so
much more than
we liked him

she awakens to the hum
of her phone vibrating
as usual
        she creeps out of
the room to take
the call,
                so careful
not to wake me.
  
         But I am awake,
a ringing in my ears
                and you are
   on my mind.

In the other room,
I hear the smile in
her voice, and I know
it's her boy
her boy that left for Chicago

She is so happy
for those five minutes
of phone conversation

          Her voice
gives her away.
                       She still loves him

After saying goodbye,
she comes back in the
room,      crawls back
into bed.


I ask, "How is he?"

She is so full of
relief
            at hearing his
voice



            and she has no idea


                              how much I would pay
                      for five minutes
                                 of phone conversation
                  
                                                    with you

my mouth is so full of questions

did you ever love me?
or did you love the things i represent?

did you just love the fact that i'm independent, that i'm a feminist, that i write poetry, that i like video games, that i have a nice smile?
did i give you a clear vision of a future, of where we would live in a perfect little teacup house with our perfect little children

or did i make your heart thump?
did i ever actually make you feel things?

did you ever see something so beautiful that there were no words to describe it
but you wanted so badly to try anyway

not so you could tell someone that you had that experience
but just because it made you feel something




did you want me to meet your grandmother because you wanted to spread love and joy in all directions?
or because you saw a future with me
a future wife
and you wanted to be able to say to your perfect future children
that I had met your grandmother
and I could vouch for you
when you said she was great

was it all just a metaphor

i'm so confused

because you
you say that you loved me
but now i don't think that either of us knew what the **** that meant.

we had *** in the shower, pressed up against each other like some **** movie
******* each other, searching frantically for ******

when,
if we really loved each other

we would have been just fine
making love in a bed, kissing each other sweetly




but then again

i don't really know.
does anyone really know

i mean really know when they're in love

or do we all just think we are


because love is such a big scary thing
that
no one can see it.
maybe i'm projecting.

maybe this is all just how i felt
and how i could never tell you
that i wanted to make myself feel something

but, it's a problem that i've had for a long time.
i can't ever make myself feel anything.


because it's like a high

and i don't want to feel numb anymore

my body is covered
in foam

i run into walls headfirst
and feel nothing

i inject hate into my own blood with rusty needles
and feel nothing

i walk on hot coals to feel something
other than emptiness
i feel nothing

i am just an empty shell filled with only your love
it's the only thing that keeps me alive
and i don't even want it.


i make these mistakes that i can never take back
but it's okay
because i feel nothing

Yeah sweetheart
         I say I trust you

You make sure that I feel safe

But you ugly heart
                 why do you do
               these things

You pant and squeeze and lick
                                selfishly


And you say you're satisfied with
                             just sitting in my presence

how many times have you told me
                     that you're a liar

        your words are sweet
           they comfort, make me smile
                                   and lean against you

but your actions

                           are telling me to run
       as fast as I can

                          in the other direction

because hurting me
                                        is in your agenda.

this year,
i will not kiss anyone
that i don't want to kiss.

i will not let people grind up on my ***
in clubs
if i am not interested.

when my heart races and falls, dead
into the sea of stomach acid
I will scream no
at the top of my lungs

so that you will hear me, for once

I will value
myself
and what i want.


I will actually learn
what i want
and chase it

like horses in
a meadow
running

because they have the most beautiful freedom to do so.


**i will stop being afraid
of hurting you

because, ******

you hurt me too.

men write poems about ******* women
and vaginas and ****
and glorious juices and getting drunk after

and I can’t
because I have a ******
and ****
and I get uncomfortable if they want to drink after.

and if I wanna write about how I really like it
when he climbs on top of me
and puts his **** into my warm hot love-cave,

it’s just ****** poetry.
by a woman
and it doesn’t mean anything
but if I was a “****”
a “*****”
and I said “no”
and wrote a poem about “****”
it would make women love me as a feminist

but I’m not a feminist
I just like it when he ***** me
and his chest hair falls out
and covers my ******* and goes into my bellybutton


I don’t mind having to
lint roll
the sheets

I woke up sobbing
My dream was too good
to be true
and it seems to have
ripped me apart

you had called me
telling me that you
had changed your mind

             you wanted to be
                    together

and you told me to
come over.

I knew exactly where
        to go

you were at my old
house, where I
grew up

with all the people
I didn't know I missed
all my childhood
friends
                  And it was as if
nothing had changed

And you,

you were asleep on an
air mattress on the
floor when I arrived

when I bent over you
to kiss your lips

I felt 20 years of emptiness
erupting from my heart

I just want to stop feeling empty





but my days feel like
a vast ocean, I
try to swim but
I'm drowning

You can't just pluck
the pieces of me
                       out of
                                   your life
like a game of operation

You can't just **** the poison out
because i am not a snake
and I didn't bite you.

Maybe this is like chemo.
             It's painful
                                and difficult

but it makes things better

and eventually your
                         hair grows back

and you'll be (more or less)

just how you were

                         before

i can't write poems unless something happens to me.
something big and profound
******* up my life

or making it heavenly.


so until i **** up my life
or yours
or his

this is the only poem
i can write tonight

my heart will stop beating





i can't
i can't do this


i've been trying
but the grief is too hard


when the rain hits the pavement
and stings my eyes

i think only of how

you always wanted to hold me in a thunderstorm

i hope you choke on your pride

and your cigarettes

I once told you that you are like ice cream.
I want you to know that you're not just ice cream.
You are like sunshine, or air.
You are like cilantro, or laughter.
You are the water I want to dip my toes into,
a crisp clear lake


in which I see my reflection

I have not written
                     anything worthwhile
in months
                   other than the words
I send you,    in bleached white
                                         envelopes

and even though, poetry is somewhat
                                                         absent,


you   are    not.


                  and you are a wonderful
                                      replacement


but now I realize -
                                 I can have both.


Because sweet sweet,
                               you are poetry

you live in my chest and you

ignite me, a catalyst for

      these words-         a place
for them to grow

                      you allow me to be
                        me.
and you do this very simply-

by loving what I do. You

think I'm so talented, but I know

that some of it is just a
self-fulfilling prophecy.

                     You tell me
             I write beautifully -
      that you appreciate my poems.



Can't you see?
                           That's why  I

                               write them.

Can't you see?
                          You are
                                     my poetry.

I'm unsure,
                  shaky
I step onto this bridge
                         shivering, uncomfortable

Leaving what I always knew
                        trekking to a new
        place,
                        uncharted territory


this bridge seemed short when
                           I first set foot on it


Now that my vision is no longer
                                      blurry

i can see that it goes on
             for
                          miles

            I can't turn back.

i never meant to insinuate
that you never feel anything


in fact,
you feel things just as strongly as i do

and i loved you
for those moments


when you painted the music


when you held me as i cried
over and over again
(not always knowing the reasons for each tear)
when you decided to dance with me.
when you asked me for a kiss
and waved goodbye
for the last time.


and now
i'm faced with people
that want me.
that want to know me
the way you knew me


but i feel as though
i still don't know myself
i still don't know the part of me that you loved so much
i don't know where that girl is.

all i know is that you brought her out of me.

you brought out the best in me.

i just need to figure out how to bring out the best in myself.

because the numbness is starting to return
and i have gone back to filling my time with pointless ****

and spending time with people that don't really care about me.
because,
i don't really think i'm worth caring about.

not yet.

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 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

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

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 we just got separated
we forgot how to be together
because when I was born you knew how to be my pops

remember when you would say
here
put this belt in each loop while I spin.

and then you would spin,
with your arms out
and I thought you might fly away



and then things got difficult
with me
and you couldn’t- -
wouldn’t figure it out

but thanks for trying now

The very second I placed the
tip of my pencil on this sheet
of paper,
      I ruined it.
This piece of paper could have been
used for so many things.

A legal document
a beautiful origami crane
or a fire to keep someone’s someone warm.

But it was inevitable that I
would be the one to ruin this
sheet of paper. To press hard
and make thick grey lines inbetween
theblueones. To run my hand
back and forth, smudging these
pointless ******* words
and here they are.

tiny asian girl toddler with dark bouncy pigtails
holding hands with her mother

trips, falls.

face hits floor.

blood drips from nose

little red circle drips on the tiles of Costco
in the middle of a monday afternoon

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

high fructose corn syrup and garlic salt
burn my throat

(i have made a habit of eating ice cream out of the tub after ten pm)

and i kick myself in the shins

everytime i think about you
and smile.

i'm so ****** at you
for being the one person that i can't stand to be away from.

why are you always leaving me

and why am i always happy when you come back?

i won't be your ******* science experiment
anymore




i'm sorry.
i didn't mean that

I had a dream
about a terrifying woman
that kidnapped children
and cut off their faces
and glued the faces onto dolls

she had an entire house full of rooms with half child half doll horrors

and she would lick their cheeks and eyelids
with a crazy look in her eye

the rain

makes me want to sit silently

and listen
to all of the everything that the earth has given me

and i can't really comprehend it
which is why,
probably
the rain makes me so sad

I'm not into politics
i don't care who the president is
if you're a communist, go ahead.
i'm not into debates and rallies
i don't vote for one side, i'm three dimensional
i don't care for democracy, fascism,
or whatever it is you are putting
in my hair, underneath my fingernails.
I'm not into that volcano of
confusion and opinions, screeching for
security of the word "true" but
all i hear is the ringing in my
ears saying OPINION
           and sure, i have a few
I like to think that everyone is
misinformed and my way is not left

but when religious *******
start the stabbing

they're going to go for the throats
of the sad souls that betrayed them

the cigar smoking;grunge wearing;music loving;peacemaking; hippies children

and i will survive the fight

because i had nothing to do with it?

no
i will never be a part of your
war

on policies
and your

****** hating

I will live my life as a lovechild

in a perfect world

where there are no idiots waving their ***** around.


these are
happy days we live in

And when I ask you,
“Can you hear me?”


I want you to say yes.

Yes, muy bueno
Yo puedo te ollo.

Yo quiero tu to say yes
But you never can
Because tu estas en el agua
Floating around
Like a little baby
Before it’s born
Except, that baby has ears
And it can hear me
It can listen
Probably
If I yell loud enough.
Pero, yo quiero
I want
I want you to hear me
To hear me
But you are in the water
Never listening
Except to the sounds
Of the waves
That don’t even exist
Except to you por que
No quieres escuchar a mi.
All you hear are
the whoosh of the air as you ride by on your bicycle
the crackling of the leaves as you jump into that dead pile, imagining that it is alive
the groaning of the door as you sneak out past three in the morning, unsure
but uncaring
and you can hear me
but I’m muffled by that ******* agua
que tu estas en,
aqui.