Way back when
when the porch was
caving in
and the creek had never been
so empty,

I went back
to the rabbit
hutch
kicked the sick-sweet bags, the
sticky cans of
Pepsi

Way back when,
when our love was
growing thin
and your hand could no longer
be steady,

I went back
to the edge of
Deer Creek -
& threw hay
like poverty
confetti.

Mt. Scott never seemed so far away
blue hills and yellow fields
flowing away
(like the moon pulls the tide)

North Umpqua Highway never
felt so short
and so filled with agony, the same
cracks and fissures and *** holes in a road that leads to you.

I would have stayed with you
even though the patio was falling through
and you never kept my secrets
and your heart was full of hate from
1000 pasts of bad goodbyes
and neglect
and flies swarming in the heat of summer
because the trash needed taken out

where I had never had asparagus
and I learned how to feel the cadence
of a song

where you birthed a beautiful soul
and also broke my heart

Mt. Scott never felt so far away.

The flower of once was
the leaves of all
the grown
the leaves and petals and stems and stuff
of all the things I own

And what is it,
I own on Earth?
if not the lakes and seas.

The flower of my time on Earth,
a time that own
not me.

I walked into
the concert
hall
and saw you
on the
stage, a glow
of amber
light filling
up the night- a
sparkling fleck of
gold in
the river
path of
life

There you were,
such home to
me
such a wonted
sense
to me
a quiet type of
thrill that's like the
hatching
of an egg or the
stirring of a bird
making her way
through
Autumn's leaves
to ride with
dawn

There you were
on stage,
immersed in
October's Sandaraca
and I thought
you were,
I think,
you are,
I hope
you are
at home with me and
every sunset's
encore.

Love is dark
floral dresses
cut into skirts
for your daughters

Love is
borrowing tables
for children to
eat their
lunch and carve their
initials

It's writing her
letters when
she's lonely
in Spain

and it's
putting chapstick
on your sore
dry lips
when you can
no longer
move your hands

it's holding
onto the cold
steel bar
and hanging a
dreamcatcher
above your
hospital bed.

When I cried
that I was lonely

and I knew that
you were far

I heard your breath
against the phone

you told me,
"you're a star,"

And I felt your
every pulsing

and I heard my
every sin

so alas I had to tell you

That you're the sky
that I float in

People are always
saying
be brave,
like it's something
that
I can
control-

and at night, when I lie
in my bed
and I'm on my back, quieter than
a branch
or the floorboards
beneath my frame,

I want to tell you
that I am a bird-
who does not know
that she is
brave when
she jumps and trusts
the fall-

who knows no difference
between courage and
instinct and
is not brave
at all

We had to take
your rings off
because your
fingers
were swelling up
and I cringed
because I knew
you'd never
put them
back on.
Death
steals your jewelry
when your hands go cold
and the fever comes
and the morphine drip
is dripping slow,
dripping slow
and steady
I hope that somewhere
in your morphine
dreams you knew
that I was there
to hold your rings
and rub your
shaking hands.

when you lie
in your death bed
and the dreamcatcher
danced its solo
song

I told you that I'd be ok
even when
you were gone

But I only said it
because I had to
give permission
for you to
go

There are too many birthday cards
Christmas cards
letters carried in the snow
to be ok
in any way
and you will
never know.

The Flowers bloom in Spring
and it is evident
That I'm not one of them.

For in the rain,
I drown
and drown
my voice gets muffled and
I can't hear myself speak
think

i know what it's like to be like he.
to be like he who
cannot hear my
desires
and fears

for i haven't strength to
share them
to push them past the
soiled ground.

if flowers come in May,
then I am leaving.

and if you cannot sense my sorrow
i am going.

if you cannot see me
stuck inside
a seed
or hard, raw earth
passion trapped like
an avalanche

then I know you
wouldn't notice
if I bloomed
[a flower]
in front of you.

So the fireworks went
off anyway
and there was still yelling in the street

and the ball still dropped
and the night went on.

Firecrackers still went
off without you

without your kiss
and touch
and that weak feeling
in my knees
and gut

and time is going on
anyway
it's moving ahead and
it's harder to hear
your voice in my head

So,
the fireworks went
off anyway.

To feel like crying
wouldn't feel so sad
so hard
and rough

like that cemented road we walk down.

It always took too long
to trollop to the shade

I cannot bear the heat so
you hold up a hand to shelter me.
to block me from the sun.

and
I only remember blackberries
and those little white flowers
that always overgrow the path.

Tell me how you do it,
tell me how you can overgrow
overpower
fade
a rolling path
of memories.

To feel like crying wouldn't be so sad.

I haven't made
the mistake
in so long.
the mistake of watching
you move
and twist,
lit like a cigarette.
I haven't let my eyes follow you,
wander to you,
search for you,
like the way
they naturally
do
[I haven't let them find you]
in so long.

This was supposed to help me heal.

I'm easy-
I'm as predictable as a bud
about to bloom before
the summer sun strikes her
heavy blow and smokes
the flowers with a

deep inhale, a canon.

When I come up and
I go down
so quickly, I know that
I'm easy
and I know that I
must be a fool

a coward,
conversed in the pull back
the push ahead of
a tide I'm
cultivated in
conceding when
my toes can't touch the
ground and I'm feeling
my familiar fear

I
know
   that
      I'm
         a
      fool

and I'm telling you that
                              there's a war,

there are wars,
there are THESE wars:

where I'm the soldier
I'm the commander,
I'm the nurse,
and I'm the civilian,
the gun and
the sword:

I lie like a flower
in the trenches of
civil war.

People've always
called me a
bird,
but I don't sing
for song's sake
or inspire

I go south
for the
summer, predictably
human
   and instinctively
drawn to
fire

Patio swinging, my legs
     up to push me
back and forth,
     a cover of sun-
  light dancing and
swooping in
  all of the arches
     the dips
        and the bows
the silent shapes
     of physical
       existence,

a jar of tea
in hand and a book
   of poems,
open like a corpse for
dissection, a body
to study, to poke,
   to pry to
              find
the way that
      insides make
       the outsides
       move along, shh
come along with me.

It's patio swinging in
   Oregon summer
where the mud wasps carry
   heavy,
    drooping legs like
     tired sunflowers who
     can't bear to see the sun
         overwhelm another Indian
                                                  sky

so hear, I lie,
where I'll always
lie
my bony legs pushing back the
patio swing
my doll hands performing
autopsies on
Ginsberg and Bukowksi
bathing in sunshine and
prosecting poetry

You are empty
cups of
bottom-stained
tea
and grounds
on the counter

***** bath water
and mildew
a
mint-stained sink

You are damp
linens
drying
dishes
cigarette butts
and resilience

How you are so quiet
when I know you are
so tired
I don't know

but let me hold your head
up while you
waste your day for me
while you draw
the complex
pattern
Arabic or Spanish
pattern
and you follow it
for me

I keep peppermint
syrup in the
cupboard-
the top shelf
because I know
that you don't
like your coffee
without it

And though I never see
your face these days
and I'm already
drugged out
on caffeine,
I'll reach for another
filter anyway-
to feed
my broken hunger-
my empty,
tired,
longing,
deep-seated
hunger
in my bones
and I'll see your peppermint
sitting
on the shelf
alone.

Bookstores &
confetti have a
peculiar thing
in common,

confetti is the
final form of
  trees.

It has been
3 years since
some
        thing
buried me

3 winters
3 falls
3 summers
3 springs

I've felt so
guilty
  since I left
everything

The people
the places
and most of my
things

It's been 3 long years
and 12 mind-numbing
    seasons

But I think I am back
and that life has
  a reason.

You taste like caramel
and I don't even
have to
open
my
    
   mouth

When I was
a kid,
I'd lie out on
the broken
deck,
never afraid
I might fall
in
with
the
rotting
boards,
but scared
instead the
Big
Dipper had
moved from where
she lied the
summer
  before.

Stand by,
feel the warmth,
of the flame
burning like a
bulb in
me
My love,
stand by,
put your hands
out, in the
night to
warm your
frozen
fingers
against the
fire,
Oh god,
pull your gloves off.
Your hat off.
Your jacket and
your scarf.
Pull back your sweater and
all the blinds that keep your
love contained,
your love
hidden from
me-

I know you're in there.

Where there's a match,
there's potential,
an undeveloped inferno,
the conviction of
a heaven draped in
light that fills the
spaces in your
wreckage.

I'll strike you 1,000 times
to
pull you out
from the dark.

Dreamy veils
  or orange
in which i
spot the sun-waves
through-
a spider web i
sometimes see
when i slant
my head

I'm aware that
silence is golden
  and there's nothing
   quieter than the sun
from
     where I stand

Like a flower I will
  tilt my neck
    to touch the sky
     and blindly
  shadow
light.

I saw a trail
of flowers
leading to
the stairwell

as I brought the
groceries in,
through the building's lobby

the plastic handles digging ditches in my hands

I saw the fallen
geraniums, pink,
coupled by old,
and drying leaves
and scraps of stem,
buds who
never had the chance to bloom

I saw
the perfect path
to follow,
or a path to
walk away.

You're digging ditches in my hand.

It's been days out
in the desert
in the no-end
summer
when I wish
now was
then
and then was
always
keeping up with
later

I can't deny every thought though
   for every vision is given through the things I have liven.
  And every petal's not a petal without
  you inside and every thought has no meaning
'Cause only you are in my mind.
  I can't touch your heart anymore than you touch me now
  For every breath isn't breathing, when my heart isn't beating in you.
  I can't explain every song sang
  For every melody is holding me, your memory hurts like hell in me
  And every star isn't a star without your love
  And my heart has no healing when push comes to shove.
  I can't kiss your soul anymore than you kiss me now,
  For every smile isn't smiling, when my soul remains dying for you.
  You can't regret the way we were
  For everything is a blur when you're smiling at her,
  And every tree's not a tree, when you've forgotten my heart
  As either a tree or a heart, it can still fall apart.
  You won't talk to me anymore than I don't look at you
  So it be that every planet stops spinning
  The end the beginning
  The won can't be winning
  When I am not living with you.

The sky is every
shade of grey since
I've been loving you

it's gorgeous and it's
moody
and it's every
way I see
you too

the wind blows in
sheets of frost
where the world is
dressed in snow

& you're behind
a winter's birch
a silver bark
a peak of sunset glow

how long I've loved the
thought of you,
the cello's neck
and song

a hymn as soft
as nightfall comes
and gently turns to
dawn.

And this I know:
when I am out
  and I can see the end -

I'll never approach the cliff
and give myself
              the other side

and that
   from far away
I can pretend
it's all
a free fall
into
nothing

I haven't been saturated
in rain for
some time
or bathed in soapy shades
of color -
I haven't touched my hip-
bone
to a ballet barre
or even
talked to my
    mother

I haven't felt the tiny hand
   of a child touch my arm
or ran without the need for speed
    or been to my best friend's
farm

- it happened a few years ago
and I really am not sure why
I fell into a sleepy spell
between now and when you
died -
  I moved to the desert,
and I hardly said goodbye...

It's the hottest place I've ever been,
but that's not what made me dry.

Apples keep falling
they're falling from
a silver sky
a frothy blow
of snow
pouring,
trails and trails of
white

Petals keep falling
they're falling from
my chromium eyes
of hope,
blinking,
in and out of
love

Water keeps falling
from titanium
pipes that bend
and twist like
where I'm told
I store my
memories

everything is falling
failing
flailing to
survive,
back in the water
treading to stay
alive
but you're going
to hit the ground
and darling,
so am I.

So it's midnight
and the tv's
on
the electronic
glow of
people on,
I'm ignoring words
and sounds

It's midnight
and the cake is
gone
my birthday
cake with
pink and
purple
sugar frosting,
metal fork on scratchy plate
in the quiet dark where
I celebrate behind
its veil

It's midnight
and the candle's
done
consumed by
heat and black
a river of smoke
and I'm ten again
you're my friend again
and I'm able to love without end,
again

It's midnight and I'm a year older
and you're a year
further behind.

I imagine drinking the
world up in one big
gulp
a swoosh of angst
and all of time would
fade away
diminish into
little hopes
and dreams.

Then I remember stars
and the blackest
blacks with
purple
flickering and
the
gold flecks
in your eyes

The sun!
a charcoal shadow
of a cave
beneath
the plateau where
you plucked a
yellow flower and
you pinned it in my
hair.

I'm too full to
the top
to drink anymore.

I wish I could say
I've found the
beauty in
suffering-
the zen
part of
accepting
what's
received.
I know that
deserving doesn't
dictate what we get or
need,
but I can't shake
that thought on
out of me

I pressed the flowers
from your funeral

I pressed them
to my cheeks
where I could smell
the hyacinth
the sweet honeyed
smell of hyacinth

I pressed them
to my fallen
eyelids
my dampened lashes,
my eyes that
hold the reel
of the last 24
years.

I pressed the flowers
from your funeral

I pressed them
to my chest
where my heart
wouldn't stop beating
and where yours
wouldn't begin

and finally,
into a book.
Into a book with
maps and
artists, with
paintings and
with
so many
words for reading
where you'll
always exist.

like paint
underneath my fingernails
that charcoal
which looks like
dirt

[I've washed my hands a
THOUSAND
times].

and still you linger.

like oil
never dries on skin
it smears
and smears
and smears and is
eventually
blended in

you linger.

that oil that won't leave my brush
it dries
hardens
crust over night
[a weekend]
you linger and

I can't paint anymore.

The sun makes
all the
girls
beautiful

tan
freckled
sunglasses
smiling

but I
stand back in
the shade
and long

for days where
the sun doesn't make me
sick anymore

sweat
sweat
sweat
I'm fainting.

It's romance
like a cow in a field
kind of romance,
like when a mountain
is everything
cascading over
everything
and horses
and I can't
tell a person from a tree,
It's romance like
a silver storm
a violet blast
eating all of the stars
away (thank God
also your eyes)
It's romance like
I will never see the sun again yet
it'll consume me all the same
And you say you never knew
romance from a palisade.

And I knew there was no place
better than here

more air than here
that I could [free fall
in]

and swim through
endless pastures of gold
pure gold
[a thread through a sequin]
and tiny shards of glass
where I can see my face
sparkling

there is no you
no individual you
or me
or dust devil to destroy us
[a volcano]
to melt the gold

you and I and dust and coal
and that strip of pink
in the sunset's sky
we're all made together

And I know there is no place
better than here.