America you
you are mine
my place
my stuff
                            
                            you are where i belong
                            in your belly and your
                            fire between us is a devil
                            a ***** and saint
                            you're america you are
                            me, we are a thing
                            greasy and clean
                                                                                   grass and leaves
                                                                                   and plumes o' glowing
                                                                                   smoke in the fair
                                                                                   and the smooth
                                                                                   enchanting lips
                                                                                   of night(you've got
                                                                                   her dirt under your
                                                                                   nails you've got
                                                                                   pretty caked deep
                                                                                   under your nails
                                                                                   )you're faces lines
                                                                                   of them cheek2cheek
                                                                                   pressed and biting
                                                                                   loving and *******
                                                                                   you're america
                                                                                                                   (and that's why i love you)

unravel all over
your bent back,
   salute,
to the brunt force of nature,
  fire so ravishing
    atop, maybe a little more adjacent,
similar to yours, my long, but not forever long, lost dear -

cut it out,
  spit it to the foggy mirror image
of your vulnerable self
splattered all over this ******* room,
prancin’, yellow in grip,
         around these basic things
you call yourselves master’s to,
                                            of,
           ­          (u n d e r),

“say it again, baby,
                   say it again,”

      ‘didn’t catch that (tone) the first go ‘round -

   must be rough on the skin,
      skin aching to mend
     from the splitting of your tainted souls -
   in to mend
  that softest spot
   where no stranger’s **** can console,
   no love that does not want love back
            can control,
   no cry, just shy
              away
               from that being the rescue..

   even still,
     wouldn’t it, even if I could it

I've got a case of something great
It keeps me bed-ridden and turns my hair grey
I can't tell you much, don't mean to be vague
But you best avoid me like the black plague

Black magic don't show up on autopsies
But I'm on to you like pods on peas
You serve shiny apples with insides of grease
But luck gave my lifeline a different disease

You may have your **** cult, your secrets, your juice
A Romeo's charm and a drug dealer's boost
The keys to the castle, the rich man's caboose
But down in the basement, you'd reach for the noose

In the woods, with the black doves and mourners
Would you still have the strength to scorn her?
Alone in the woods, with no sight of the border
Would you tough it out or be the sojourner?

You think you know black
But you don't know jack
You think you know white
But light is a different stripes

Her bare skin is painted on
Her carcass is so transparent
Traversing the cellar door
Her whimpers would outrun the roars

we are
all plagued
by some churning remnants
of haunting pain and shame
but we are not to blame
for repentance oft falls short
no matter how much we try to exhort
these murky maddening memories to depart
they flow yet in even the purest heart

for me
my crimes, too many to enumerate,
will all cause me to self deprecate,
but of the ones I seem to recall
the deed that taunts me most of all
was the simple thoughtless movement
of two five year old fingers
I used
to crush
two sublimely blue
robin's eggs
in a nest
on a promising bright afternoon
in the dark land of memory

Strange the weight a date
can hold, when what you've
lost just can't stay put
as a number shut in a box.
We are in the same city
under the same noisy sky,
and a year ago we looked up
and held hands outside. But
now we are not, and all I
can think of, is you red lipped,
smiling and twirling,
of men lying and you purring,
as those ******* flowers
boast and explode in the sky.
And to think of what I said to you,
or what you said to me,
of all the  I love yous and tears
and sweaty beds
and poetry.
Strange the weight a date
can hold, when every bleedin year
fireworks remind you why.

my type breathes ink
pressing said ink against sky
holds it, sticks it, stains it
each letter pushes
and stays

every mistake she makes is crinkled
and college-lined
freethrown in and around
an endless waste basket
later,
we'll call it her greatest work

because my type
type: writer
alphabet ingester
idea inventor
stainer of sky
believes in a world
where the world believes

she dots her eye-contact
and crosses her teachings

she sees old folks as encyclopedias
and children as ear to ear echoes
of all of this beautiful ****
that makes us shout
out loud

she sees fairytales
as tomorrow's scientific law
and travels this crazy world
via lopsided butterfly
whom by nature
always take the scenic route

because my type
type: writer
freelance flower grower
with watercolor wordplay
breathes, believes
and redrafts

breathes, believes