you’d see her on a cruiser bike in your dreams
that girl, on rapt beaches
—that girl has more to her than perceived
guys elude me; each his
own but still the same
we delude—our name
is the one he’d sort of cry
in his sleep, or even say
i’m just that southern girl
not even—
i’m that other girl he keeps
to himself and no one else
but i was a girl
not your belonging
and not your world

I knew I was falling when you said,
"let me take you out," and I smiled
you give me paper knees, my dear
my balance is all thrown off
each breath fills me deeper
with perfume and a cough
can any air pierce winds
dragging me from blue, even oceans
trace all imprinted breaks, my dear
may keeping pieces make you whole

-c.j.

put your eyes on them
skin and whiteness
and sheen
lovely hair, they
don’t see the lack-
luster life we fear
gucci on sight
yachts, mazdas
shots at midnight
hyatt in the plaza
to dream on roofs
but we sleep blanketed
they speed, shoes thrown way out—
at least our thrills are felt—
not ersatz,
not lost and dreamt
or counterfeit.

my blind eyes didn’t follow—
moments pass by in the rear-view
margalo, the happy years
life’s just a pool of draining shallows.

I was never vivacious;
Pétillant girls giggled
So did I
I was dissimulating,
Pretending at points;
In school, secondary—
Yet, after having chased reveries, flat dreams, insipid ends, and
having ruled all aims vain—
To them, I think,
I was, still, positively,
vivacious.

what an abysmal life
me, beveling down its side,
you not existing,
me searching.

our weariness is waxing from these
fiery, hellish universes—
these same sick, fiery, hellish verses
rendered out of vile fiends’ lips
liar, liar—the price required
is a mere soul’s harrowing worth
satan’s spires, hounding hell-fire—i wonder, does he cede the
cost of his hostile mirth?