Look at us go. A gang of four awkward-toothed boys dragging our red bread wagon around. Hometown heroes with bouquets of flour. For a little green, you can slice the cellophane. Yeast in your nose and warm butter dripping.

Biking down Delaware. Left on Broad. Autumn’s vermillion blanket on the ground. John Deere and Orson Welles. Maybe in some fanfiction they were ******* behind the Casey’s General Store. Turning the soil to bury secrets. There’s an art in that. The rottweiler’s snarl is pulled back inside as the door closes.

My cousin lost an eye and I saw it floating in a jar like a marble on his nightstand. When it snowed I wondered if he only saw half of the flakes.

Before you left we each took a sharpie to a dollar bill: “FRIENDS 4 EVER”. Thirty years later it’s still tucked away in a little white box with a Michael Jordan valentine and mirrored blue marble. Something plucked from my childhood and I only remember half of it.

I found an old letter I wrote to you. November 8, 1993. 11:24 a.m. Nineteen minutes after my grandmother died.

“I miss you and hope that I can come visit sometime”

That winter was lonely. I climbed our sledding hill in my moon boots and as I looked across the tundra, I thought: I’m the last hometown hero.

“Ever since you left things have been pretty boring around here and I’ve been stuck in my house reading books”

I flew down that hill in my plastic saucer. The wind pulling every tear from my eyes.

“My pictures are in the envelope, when you write me a letter please write neatly”

When my sled hit the curb on Ridge Road I swear I kept flying. I’d say I never looked back, but that’s all I’ve been doing these days.

I see that microphone. She’s pressed to your lips. I watch you sink her deep deep deep into your esophagus. Choke on your ****. Will the crowds cheer when your very own throat…you split? Wide open and soakin’ your southern cross. We are ripping and shredding your hate into floss. Teeth so clean and ready to sing.

You think you can attack my family and hide safely in the weeds? No no no, you silly goose. You’ve dug your own grave. You’ve knotted your own noose. Justice is an arrow already in flight. The soapbox soon to be kicked out from under your feet. Your horror left hanging there…forgotten in the night. A human quiver of self-destruction.

Now please welcome to the stage…they need no introduction. The people who LOVE. The people who LIVE. We will not forget. But maybe. Just maybe. We can forgive.

the curve of
unattainable
things
your jaw
arms
lower back
& lips

i lap them up
like syrup

in the witching
hour
of my sleep
your fingers
they
c r e e p

We candled up the country road at dusk. An attempt to stretch the glow of the sun past its expiration. We laughed when the sparks withered. Then rallied and piled the heat into the backseat. The twilight on your crooked teeth. Lines less defined than the stallion I longed to ride. In my mind. I saddled and straddled the curves of your spine.

Forbidden dreams aching like curdled cream. You’d think it would wet the wick, but instead, ignited the stick. Someone call 911. I’m done like the sun. Bury me in the horizon. Ring the Fire Marshall and squelch the flames.

I am
u n t a m e d .

Finished by the hands of a Roman god. I’m far too dazed to notice the field ablaze. Scars carved into the charred limbs of the trees we planted. They tell how we survived. I’m lost in the brilliance of your summer skin. Your sweat, a song. Every drop a chord plucked…singing and begging for my licking. A forest of treasure. Your morel, my pleasure.

G.I. Joes exploding
With a pillow gripped
M80 in my hand
Becoming

A Cobra Commander
Villain in the making

Hiding behind office walls
And bathroom stalls
A bomb maker
Tripped breaker

Flip me back
& forth
But I’m 15 amps
When I should be 20

Empty

So toss me out
With frozen fingers
Forget me
In the warmth of
A kerosene heater

I’m back in summer
Like bitter tea
As you disappear
Into the grass
Screaming
Like a banshee

You’ll never be
Proud, it seems

Alone
In this city
Still
Soldering wires
& exploding
S a d l y

you had the
a u d a c i t y
to walk in with
  green hair
& a grin


        ****, boy
bowl me over
i’m your pin


wash my mop
buy me a whiskey
drunk on the couch
getting             risky


peel off that blazer
  hand on my thigh
bleach blonde
        open wide


but when my
eyes are touched
by morning light
i’m alone
            no nirvana
in sight


i sigh
   & think
fantasies are fun
        juicy like
wet dreams

     w a i t
why is your
b r a c e l e t
on my sink?

Cranberry bedroom
a l l    f o r    y o u

Incense dust
Brushed off the
Small stone
Ring on my
Fat finger

Let it linger

If it was bigger
I’d don it ‘round
My neck &
Sink into the
River

LeBaron maroon
I was (not) meant for you
2,000 free
Minutes from a
Bag phone
I’m a practical
Joke laid bare
By the moon

Wine cooler berry
As wild as the
Unholy cherry from
An herbal cigarette
Held tight by a
Plump Mary

No one sees
Me when I’m
Neck-deep in
Water blue

I rest my head
On *****’s bed
I know she’s dead
But I
Still do

the wind in my hair on the drive to you
replaced by your fingers at night

( d e e p   s i g h   v o o d o o )

summer sunlight caught
in the mesh

i can’t cut the
u  n  c  u  t
silhouette

from my eyes
from my flesh

the same shape
along my arm

sink slowly
my treasure

milk down
the drain
             no harm

Dirt-poor and Balbriggan born
Into the arms of a mother
No longer breathing

Raised by a stone-hearted
Man with a catholic core
Finnian’s soul was gentle
As his ship left the port

He flirted with death
And French boys
Sipping on
Cigarettes and skin
In the alleys of cafés

He found a home
In Marseille

Less of a home, more
A small rented room
With a bed for a
Half dozen men
To break his heart

In a small mirror
By the window
Of his room
He sees the decades
On his face

Time is not
A boon

His glass overflows
With homeland spirit
As he raises it up
To the night sky
With just enough
Air in his lungs for
An Irish goodbye

The ice cube cracked when kissed by a tepid spirit in the glass. A small triumphant sound to mark the first time his tongue tasted scotch and the lips of another man. A clarinet sleeps on the shelf while the crystals continue to melt. Like the bodies on the couch. Two piles of paint swirling into a color he’s never seen. This is a milonga. A gathering of souls. Forever fleeting.

is this foundation
made of
salt or sand?
either one ground
between my teeth
hurts
& demands

either one
duned against
the curb
succumbs

everything in its path

no geometry
no math
can undo
the backlash

may the stars
grant us grace

may they forgive us
because we **** at

existing

the strangest
thing

the dust never settles
it compounds and
pounds on my door

(like)

wine that’s
been decanted
only to be poured
on the floor

i don’t know how
to unmaster the
lock

fumbling with keys
upon keys
i keep circling the
same block

always back to
the porch light’s
warm glow

from a home
i’ll never
(again) know

the villain in
this story
he exists to
sustain her
glory

(all the while)

she fills
her chalice
staining them
(all)
with regret
& malice

i saw a man
who held a garden
in his hand

i watched his
skin break open
like a plot of land

fractured root
sprouting into stem
a bead of blood &
the blossom began

tiny tomato
then two
spiderwebbed
in twine
a pepper grew

the sun shone
(too) brightly
that summer

a culling

razor wire
across the
dermal plane

“bring out
your dead”
she said
her cart
overflowing

i saw him look
back one last
time with
tired eyes

he witnessed a

poison apple
devoured
seeds and all
a new harvest
and a curtain call

as he was wheeled
away he thought
“i once held a
garden in my palm”

&
when the soil
encased him
he recalled
a living room fire
echoes
of a warm
song

Every cell a living thing. Boundless ripples of autonomy. My cell is venom. Birthed to sting. No form of evolution will twist me into something good. Fang me up and set me free. I poison everything. If the universe could shift and reverse. Maybe then I’d find my home. Slurped back into the infinite. A place before the bang of time. Where absolute chaos was not my design.

our love was a gaff
a two-headed calf
suckling on the monotony

i laughed
uncontrollably
as you clipped my wings

the irony is
i’m a jackalope
a prickly freak

the velvet of
my antlers
is powdered &
shedding
onto the apple
of your cheek

a masterpiece
                     of grief

It almost went unnoticed
The 10,000 stones you
Bouldered upon me
Kind of a weird flex
I thought as my
Shoulders cracked
Within the breath
Of that thought
A new thought
Actually no
I breathe
And say
“No”

I like to call this thought the
Great Unencumbering
As I take your hands
And move them
Very very very
Far from me
I’m talking 10k
Miles away
Just gone
With a
No

A great power I hold
One that you will
Never ever
Own

He stood at the window
Hoodie unzipped
& hair a mess
As the snow fell

He thought
“Wow, you’re a
hundred miles away.
Do you even remember
my name?”

Yours is carved
Deep in my veins

“Can I extract it?”

Pull the power out like
Rolling blackouts
Free for ten minutes
Or maybe it was fifteen

Roots, buried deeper than anything, entwine and constrict until the sap of self-destruction begins to ooze from the seams. That sap spreads into the innermost reaches of the soul, coating everything with a shiny glaze that seems harmless at first... Yet over time, tendencies are created. Inclinations that become part of the trunk of this ever-growing tree of the self. Memories, people, moments... All of it becomes embedded in that sap over time, buried beneath gnarly bark and pain. Because that's all the sap is, really. Pain. Pain which manifests as the careful destruction of the self, even as the tree remains desperate to grow.


[The sap drips and laughs. Man, look at him seethe. We’ve mausoleumed him well. A belly full of poison and a head full of hell. Wait, wait…remind him of his failures and how he’ll never amount to ****. Just a fossil, long forgotten in the amber. Buried in a pit. Don’t let the waters reach his roots. Don’t let the sun kiss his leaves. Drip thick over his eyes and watch his hope disappear in the breeze.]

///

He hears that distant voice... Mocking. Taunting. Reminding him of all he fought to keep, and yet lost anyway. It's a familiar voice. Somehow comforting, despite its scathing words. Because after all, it's a justification for his vices. It gives him freedom, even as it chains. He remains kept from all light and water, and yet convinces himself it's precisely what he wants. He deserves the dark. He deserves to be parched. He deserves a death which refuses to come.


[Yes. Yes. Yes. Let’s put our hands around his throat. Bring him close. Make him play a game. A liver stress test. Edging death. Squeeze him tighter until he’s gasping for breath. His blossom is withering with all of our slithering. Oh look, now he’s crying. Drip, drip, drip…one more glass. Once a tree of life. Now riddled and rotted with endless strife.]

///

Everything spins and goes black once again, as he succumbs in full. No amount of pain, nor sickness, nor consequence can ever make him stop drinking from that chalice of self-hate. It refills again and again, and he guzzles it, only to find it tasting sweeter each time... Like the embrace of a toxic lover, he will return to it always, as his roots had planted themselves so long ago in tainted soil. They tangled themselves so tightly, and so impossibly deep... he could never hope to right them.


[Hurry, quick…grab the blade. He’s too faded to see we’ve fated him into a grave. His wrist is shiny and begging for a kiss. Two or three inches vertically, surely he won’t miss. His fingers wrap around the hilt as he lifts himself from the floor. His shoulders widen. There’s a fire in his core. The roots beneath him shift, as “time to end the pain” departs from his lips.

The razor, it moves swiftly. A shrilling scream echoes, as from the edge…sap drips. It gathers at his feet in a pool. He takes one more sip and laughs: “I may be wretched, yes. But they mistook me for a fool”.]

seasons greetings
and estranged feelings

no hearth
to light the dark

not on the back porch
or through a window, peering

your chair is in the lake now
drowned
blacked out

happy new year
my dear

you’ve been erased
sheared from the frame
a blank space

a pebble cracking the mirror
skipping across the body
only to sink into
the core

deeper and darker
the riptide

am i alive?
i’m not so sure

why do we
even try to
codify the mystery

an ocean
a fault line
nothing less
nothing more

all of the gravel
disappeared
with a smile

lips smacking
on a foreign
shore
i’m so ******* bored

he called from the edge
of a cliff
             “look to the stars”

a peach pit
or plum stem
in orbit

adrift

he thinks
about
being forgotten

in the garden
overgrown
no chemical
in the memory

and the room
is more open now
halved
with nectar
dripping

the cosmos
exposed
and he
enters
through the
stone
of a
lychee

father,
bless me
and press me
into the dirt

plant me
like a seed
moon water and
honey

sanctified
like a prayer

unrecognizably
a son
shining

i never asked for this
a living tomb of wounds

scrap of fabric
edges too weird
for any pattern to hold
destined to be alone

but i’m okay
no, sincerely i’m fine

swallowed by sad songs
surround sounded bliss
a solitary tear
and ****-eating grin
while *******

A rap on the door and a lift to your hip. Heels in your back and that uncontrollable laugh. The summer sun burned holes through our love. It slipped from my fingers like an ill-fitted glove.

I guess you had enough.

Never a door to be knocked again. Never the flames in your eyes. Never grocery shopping and dog walking again. My ankles around your neck…never again…no more.

You abandoned me like your socks on the floor.

The bewildering crispening of a cold shoulder. A subtle shift of your weight. Like a gearbox and an acceleration. Away from me. This is a freeway. All chaos. With no way back to…us.

Blood red mother, hold me close. Let my pain transfer to your hem. Hold me. Hold them. When the foolish men pray for the dead to rise. Shield me from their lies. Make them cease. May the car crash victims find their peace.

Blood red woman, hold me tight. When the bike tire meets the t-bar and the skull greets it too. Rubies poured from his head. I think he thought he was dead. Hold him with a hymn. Cool the panic. A crown of jewels. Paramedic.

Blood red saint, hold me fast. Don’t hate my future or romanticize my past. Your womb, she blessed you. Is there a blessing left for me? A son who’s not your son. Bleeding out on the lawn. Let it be.

I once yearned to be close to god. Whispering prayers and ******* through violent pages. Spirituality comes in phases.

Would god look away as I thought of another man’s nectar on my lips? Pooling and dripping from the eclipse of our hips. Would god gasp at the flesh within my grasp? Would god leave me alone in the dark as the seed is spilled into my ark?

I no longer think of god. Or liturgies. Or of words on pages distorted to manipulate through the ages. Turn your eyes from me, oh god. For I am close. Oh my god I’m close. I feel the truth erupt from within and it’s sweeter than fructose.

I’ve touched the heavens. It’s gates are pearls on my chest. Sanctified in sugar. Baptized in a batter of leavened bread. I am holier than I’ve ever been. Prove me wrong when I’m dead.

Some tethers cannot be severed. I remind myself of this amidst the distance. A ******* doctor and his husband stitch. Sometimes a father impedes the celestial bond of a boy and his mama. And that’s a *****. That’s a trauma. But the stars can heal us. Mothers. Sons. Papa’s too. I want to shatter every tradition. Let the blooded cords renew. I’m here. I never left. My honesty is not a theft. I just want your love…not a miracle. And there is nothing more biblical than that which is umbilical.

Somebody wipe the oil from the stone. The bubbling blubber is too thick over the bone. Spare tire. Rubber. But what if I’m four-wheel drive…with enough traction to thrive. I’ve traversed terrain that could **** a ****** of crows. Jet streams and moonbeams guided me home. Cavatappi and pink sauce to thicken my gloss. I don’t need more loss when the grease on the whetstone provides the perfect amount of sharpening. One hundred and eleven shimmering blades on my crown. Every false structure…severed. My enemies bow down. Lapping up the lubrication as my wings are re-feathered.

Visions of Gideon
Bite your heels
As you flee

This is the mystery
Of love
A retreat

My name in
Your throat
A futile device

On repeat

Or so he said
The god of my youth
Was a haughty friend

Let your sorrow pool into
The gaping wounds
Of my stigmata
He proclaimed

What was left
Was nothing more
Than a watered-down
Bloodstain

Yet I sustained

Another two decades of fears

And while no longer friends
I attempt amends
Recollecting my tears
To ink the story
Of my years

The wind from the
Cracked window
Is crisp
As it shivers
Along my
Eyelashes
Then
My lip

This boreal dance
Awakens me
Every morning
Until early spring

As one who hates
The sweat of summer
These brisk mornings
Are my everything

And when winter is birthed
The widow’s crack
It narrows
But never closes
I crave the frozen air
It blossoms something
In me
Like eleven dozen
Fresh roses

Your ivory
Was devouring
First as a smirk
Then a ploy
Grazing a nape
I was your boy

“When will I
See you again?”
You said
“C’mon over”
I replied
So you made the drive

We were lovers
s o m e t i m e s

A birthday card
Now gathering dust
In a bin
I often think
Of what could
Have been

To have your teeth
Grasping my
Whole being
And your
Primal scent
In my nose
Lingering

“When will I
See you again?”
. . . I wonder . . .

Knowing the answer
Is never will we be
More than a secret
Every bead of sweat
Locked up in memory
Safe from your faith
Safe from your family

Which makes me
Sigh
And cry
And die
A little inside

This is purgatory

Your purple satin
Slipped through
My fingers like the
Sands of time

s e v e n
years
since
you
disappeared

And still a part of you
Is always on my mind

Talcum powder
And water
And a few
Other things
Something pink

Smoothed onto
My innocent cheek
Like a mask
Fancy

The sneaking
Into your closet
The blouse
Falling off my shoulder
High-heeled stumble
I’ll understand this
When I’m older

The curiosity
Testing borders
Pushing limits
It’s always been
In me
This glimmering
Faggotry

Don’t make those eyes
I’d sooner carve
Out my own
Than let yours
Meet mine

Don’t smile
I’d rather
Disappear
Completely
Than curl
My lips

Don’t think
I didn’t notice
Your hips
As I drift away

Don’t think of me
Like I think of you
It’s all tarnished now
There’s nothing
I can do

The owl outside my window
Doesn’t hoot
He screams
Which sends me running
No, tiptoeing
Through dark rooms
Until
Into your doorframe
I lean

Father is snoring loudly
I shan’t wake him
Instead I silently
Crouch then crawl
To your side
Sweet mother

Your sleeping breath
I observe
Then my finger
Softly taps
Your slumbering arm
As you
Wake gently
To shield me
From harm

Your kind eyes open
And quietly
Slip out of bed
To lovingly take my hand
As we walk
Through dark places
Until
Resting my head
Upon the pillow
You hush the owl’s bellow

Curled up by my side
To cradle and comfort
Panic retreats as
You usher in
Peaceful sleeps

This selfless act
Is repeated
For years

Through every dark room
You guided me
And erased my fear
I see this now
And eternally
Feel you near

Autumn leaves burning
In the backyard
The scent accented
By a nearby
Lilac tree

What a weird thing
Memory

Like the shack
Closed door
Dusty sneakers
On the floor

Exploring bodies
And fantasies
Galore

Don’t let the hinge bend
Keep it shut
If they don’t see
It didn’t happen
I mean…
We’re only friends

I’m sorry I was late
But you waited patiently
Then stood tall
In your black leather jacket
I was enamored and
Felt myself
Just a little bit
Fall

Into your grasp
Against the side
Of my car
You raised me
Until my neck
Craned over
The luggage rack

Then into the back
Seat we sprawled
Entwined like
Tasting notes
Of a fine wine

Your touch was
Divine
Your lips
Gracing my spine

You never responded
To my texts
I’m sorry I was late
La Grande Bellezza
Now forgotten
                        forever

This cabin smells damp
Tucked away in the timber
Backroaded
Secluded
Welcome to Deer Camp

It was wintertime
And we had to ***
Into a tube in the wall
PVC

I’m at that awkward age
Not lanky
But frumpy and weird
So hand me a rifle
For the slaughter
Of a creature I revered

Man, what we do
To make our fathers proud

My secret was
I hated guns
And loved boys
I really only went on this trip
Because I heard that John
Grilled some mean potatoes

Accented with caramelized
Onions and garlic
The rumors were true
The fire crackles
Against a sky
Of light blue

I watched these men
Bearded and loud
Would I ever be like them?
Did I want to be?
My quiet heart
Felt alien
A freak

I wasn’t a hunter
Instead I gathered
A harvest of me
Thoughts and emotions
Into a cauldron
Of poetry

But I kept that part
Hidden
Tucked away
For another day

The men in their
Camouflage attire
Yawn as the sun sets
I try to fit
Into the cabin
We retire

The lantern’s light
Flickers across
The walls of the room
Sam’s Club candy
For dessert
Distant thunder
Booms

It was bedtime
And a storm was rolling
In the atmosphere and in
My head full of fear

Can someone please
Get me out of here

I cried from my cot
“Please take me home”
My dad glared

What a disappointing
Drive that was
Have I ever not
Let you down?
I think
As blankly ahead
I stared

We pull into the driveway
Ignition turns off
Headlamps extinguish
He unlocks the door
By the light of the moon
I feel
Relief and anguish

Mom was annoyed
This was supposed to be
Her weekend alone
Grieving the death
Of her own mother
She hugs me
While wiping
A tear from her
Cheekbone

Steel Magnolias
And a box of Kleenex
I ruined that

You brought a fairy
To deer camp
What did you expect?

I stood over the sink
Scrubbing our negroni glasses
Wishing the ginger-scented soap
Would wash away the cancer
Because the chemo didn’t work

I was wearing eyeliner
When I first met you
We’d laugh about that later
Over a bottle of wine
And patatas bravas

We always had our weekends
Movie dates and inside jokes
We would guffaw at the
Fuckery of it all
My god your laugh
How it filled a room

I remember when you said
“I love you, Christopher…
because you just GET ME”
You expressed appreciation
For how I carved out time
For our friendship

I reminded you,
“I don’t carve out time for you,
I shove everything away while
screaming ‘I NEED MY HEIDI TIME!’”

*******.
I need my Heidi time

For years you were
The most consistent thing in my life
Always there for one another
We were each other’s touchstones
I realize this now more than ever
During my weekends spent alone

Wine tastes different now
Something’s missing
Going to the movies feels strange
It’s like the hero has
Left the frame

Remember when I smoked cigarettes?
You’d *** a drag as we crept
Through early evening traffic
On our way to get gelato
Or if we were feeling sassy
Maybe an affogato

I switched to vaping
When you went into hospice
Then back to menthols
When your spirit left this world

I’m addicted to our memories
More than the nicotine
They bang around my head
Like a song or a scent
Nostalgic  
And
Lingering

You tattooed
“CEDENDO VINCES”
On your wrists
“By yielding, you will win”
My finger traced those words
While I held your hand

Last breaths

But what are deaths?

Transitions
Energy
Shifting
A spark
Returning

/ / /

Those letters live
On my wrists now
A reminder of her
The sister I never had
And sometimes
I still hear her laugh