(she likes watching herself cry, it’s hilarious)

i
found the mirror stage
in a fireplace. alone

-

god lives in my bathroom

-

abjection
devil gaze

existence                 as a form of
violatory

-


(you’re, like, so exotic)

god

i am this close
to vomiting my
classic impoverished american
upbringing
all over this
classic impoverished american
room

-

poemform
bodygenre

nobody understands
masochism

hands
or deep water

they will say they do
don’t listen

[diptych]

i
the women
in my fiction
are always
taking off
their shoes

ii
how strange
to find
a chick
in a frying pan
how strange
to find
two

-

(“spider goddess, needle boy”)

really god
are we all just your love letters
to the universe

the ****

-

[who is forgiveness for]

man who took a belt to your
four year old face

sends you a birthday card
every year

still spells your name wrong
you wonder when he’ll die

you know what you’ll bring
to his grave


[my grandmother said she saw jesus]

so, what does someone do with a stolen ******?

fire, maybe?

and then further
                                                                   back

but not really

that far?

there must have been so much fire   when jesus

got here.

-

from

[sleep studies/ or dogs for metaphorical rapture]

braced against a demon
like the last tree on a flooded plane

the dream changes

-

god isn’t in the dreams, but that’s because god is the dreams. if that doesn’t make sense it’s because i’m a waitress. anyway, chaos. but, also not so much chaos. math, migratory patterns, circadian rhythms, menstrual cycles, lunar phases. god. can’t get it out of my head. i need to sleep. i sleep so much. sleep is the last thing i do. wake up tired. where did you go last night. what did you do