I pruned the flowers of my soul yesterday, following
the careful directions set out by my mother's mother. "A little
loving will go a long way, Dear," she would tell me as she pinched
a yellow-green leaf between her dirt-lined fingernails.

I clipped the pieces of myself--
shriveled and yellowed,
dried and dead-- and sought root
among the Roses and Marigolds, Violets and Clovers,
hoping for a companion to grow tall and strong next to.

I radiated in sunshine as bees moved from flower
to flower, tickling petals and whispering
meditations of beauty and growth and the ways of
love.

An English Ivy wrapped its tendrils
around me, encompassing and tender, kissing me
gently until I turned my face from the sun.
And though the bees did not come and I could not
breathe, I felt
loved.

But the ivy crept on to find other flowers,
and the storms had proven too strong
for me.

I've been uprooted and waterlogged,
wet wilting from the soggy, soaked earth, drooping
and hoping for a second season.

And when the sun dries me out,
I no longer know
whether I am dormant
or dying.

El oro, cuando lo golpea, brilla.


I want to stand at 3,082 meters
On the overlook above Machu Picchu — close
Enough to the edge so my timid toes
Flirt with wild columbine and teeter

On white granite stones laid centuries ago.
Speak to me the way the Andes
Breathe cumulus clouds phthalo blue. Seek
Answers in the form of temples. Slow

Down time in the Room with Three Windows —
Hanan-Pacha: bless my fears with conviction.
Kay-Pacha: reject this earth’s mundane affliction.
Ukju-Pacha: watch my seedling-soul as it grows.

Move with me in cyclical certainty from ruin
To reverence, beyond what words can measure —
Even the old Peruvian proverb for treasure.
Our trials make us mountains among humans.

My favorite people
are the ones who
do the things
that I don't
want to do

Lunch rush was hell for the new girl,
stacking foamed cappuccino cups
and stirring spoons in a broken-handled
bus tub while trying not to slip
on soft ice and discarded lemon
wedges. She took our mugs,
and told us about a guy

—Dave, she said. I don't know.—who sat
with his friend, comparing *** to work
over the rusted cabinet tracks
of his warped fork scraping
his egg-caked plate.
Dave's friend was leaned in
with a cocked grin waiting
for one of Dave's "Classic Dave" punchlines,

which I'm guessing are all witty,
the funniest *******
things you've ever heard,
but there wasn't one
this time

because there's nothing funny about
a ***** intern cringing beneath the weight
of fat Dave and his brick
paperweight jammed in her back.

Violets are purple, and roses are red.
Because romance and the color blue are somehow different tonight.
On this one day of the year, the refractions of light
aren't bent to the left, romance just tends to mess with our heads.
So, what I'm saying is, this year let's just watch Netflix instead.
Because why be blue on Valentines day, amirite?

Panic
What have I done?
What have I done??
What have I done???
Was it worth it, the deed I've done?
I spent all day contemplating the chase
When I should have been focusing on other things
I came home anticipating and dreading what was to come
Before I could take off my coat,
it was already too late

The demon had captured me and was not letting go

What's that? Mother went to the grocery store?
Oh no. Yes. No. Yes. No.
Go upstairs. Talk to your friends. Reach out.
No. The demon won't let me.
He traps me at home alone with all these deadly drugs.
I promised myself I wouldn't use as much today
After all, not using at all is a drug in itself
Already tried that
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Vision starts to blur as the possession begins

A piece of toast might be nice,
nothing abnormal
Why not top it with peanut butter?
Why not?
Why not scoop it up with a spoon?
Five minutes, six minutes.
Forget the toast, there were chocolates in the pantry
Seven minutes, eight minutes
Doesn't matter if that candy bar was expired for a year.
It doesn't matter anyway, you can get rid of it
Nine minutes, ten minutes
there goes that pint of ice cream

One hour later
What have I done?
What have I done?
I promised myself this would never happen again!

I run to the only place in the house where I can repent my sins
this confessional session must be quick
no one else must know,
but the porcelain god I am kneeling to
for a while I am in purgatory
I must repent
It will never happen again,
just cleanse me of my obscenities!!

After much effort
my mistakes are sent away
my throat burns,
nut that's the price I must pay for what I've done
I feel better, safer
But only for a little while,
as my unexcorcised demon lies in wait
for the cycle to begin again

So I hear you need a rebel-- or maybe
someone to just hear you out. I like your profile,
your bio, the blurbs you write about your life--
but tell me more about you.

How do you break down your personality
01101101 01100101
into 140 characters or less?

May I suggest we meet face-to-face? Video chat
tomorrow at 5:00, sure, but that's not
what I meant.

I don't want the pixels, the lag, the type face, the webcam-filtered,
LED monitor dating profile.
I want the flesh,
the bone, unedited-- the words before they're deleted
and perfected to the point where you finally feel
comfortable enough to hit
Enter.

But you can't "put yourself out there" if you don't get out.

I want you beyond the screen, disconnected from the Internet
connections and matchmaking engines, filling up the tank
and searching for yourself.

I want you, bumbling and goofy, your foot nervously
tapping as we make awkward eye contact, gazing
not into machines and technology but into
pure, unadulterated life.

We were walking
down some street
well,
I was walking
He had a scooter