if i have a nature
it is the eucalyptus forests of california,
of portugal. the forest whose burning
seeds and bark fly like spittle from
the mouth of a rabid raccoon.

if i have a nature
it is the trees in central park
living on a token plot in a
jungle of someone else’s design.

if i have a nature
it is the evergreen that
chokes on holly, smothered
by the weight of its peers.

but nature is always changing.

and so, if i have a nature
it is a conifer heaving a gasp and another
despite the hands at its throat.
it is the grass growing in the cracks of
the concrete jungle, reclaiming its home.
it is the flower, clawing through the ash
of those who came before
to turn and face the sun

if i have a nature
it is dreaming
it is pleading
it is vowing
alongside the germinating green

Upright. Upright.

was it for the lichens
growing on my pleached
entrails that you came,

scavenging like caribou
on pilgrimage to the
wintering ground?

I sit and stare at blank white
what, I wonder, shall I type?
Is there anything that can set me write?

Until static fills my head and
cosmic background radiation drones through my
radio station fingers, I have nothing. I am
nothing.

Why do I have to drink to right?

my thoughts are peanut butter
sticking to the roof of my head
when i can’t find a glass of milk.

my voice is like syrup
sticking in my throat,
never pouring out of the empty cracks

anxiety’s tendrils coil around my ribs
and spur my heart to run another year’s drag race.

I woke up to a checkered reality
and the absolutes of abandonment
three hundred miles from a meal
From the red velvet love I craved

From cream cheese acceptance
and everything bagels with
horseradish guidance, the kind that
stings in your nostrils and
goes down sour, but resurfaces years
later. From the memories that taste sweeter than
ice cream on my tongue.

I woke up to empty pantry lies
The kind to which self authenticity dies
and I fought on, hungrier than I’ve ever been,
skinnier than I’ve ever been.

I woke up lying in bed, puking on myself, and lying
to everyone around me
“I’m fine,” I say
and it’s true as long
as the bile stays in my insides

I bruised myself on a baseball
one I had to throw and catch and
catch and throw
Alone for hours
before I could come inside.

I licked sweat and bile
from my face.
I swallowed my dried tongue,
I ran until I couldn’t breathe
for the father who told me to
for a glass of water.

I choked down the bitter pills
I choked under the bitter hand.
And last night,
I choked down a bitter bottle
to feel something a little sweeter

All the while,
I dreamed strawberry milk dreams of
a future spinning like blue cotton candy,
dreamed of the blank white canvas of a life to live,
dreamed of your lips, stained blue with frosting...
Dreamed dreams of bubblegum,
passed from your mouth to mine.

I have a smile on my face
and it feels right, too.
A smile so big it makes my cheeks hurt!
A smile I can’t erase
because you, because you, because you

I’m almost always sad
but I talk to you and the world seems brighter;
a world so bright it’s like walking on the sun.
Around you things never seem as bad,
and I feel like my body’s a lot lighter.
Because you, because you, because you

You only see me as a friend,
but I love you so dearly I
kiss you every morning in my mind’s eye.
And every night, I pull my sheets close to me
in crude imitations of your embrace.

Even so,
it really doesn’t matter to me
because the brightness of the world you’ve given me
lives in my body. Dimly, faintly it shines.
It’s you, it’s you, it’s you

The ember of the earth itself
has been placed in my beating heart,
thawing old permafrost wounds.
And thanks to its warmth, the old
buried seeds of my joy have been coaxed to growth.
Because of you, because of you, because of you

As my new feet take root
in the soil of my life, the light of
my love for you makes me a flower
that breathes the same warm, restoring
flame that I tremulously blew from the
ember you gave me.

It won’t matter
if all I have left someday
is an amber hued ashen ember, and
if the fire in my heart burns to nothing at all, or
even if I am lost to glowing light of the world.
It wouldn’t matter if the petals of the flower you turned me to
wilted and fell. Still all I had I would give you,
Because it’s you, because it’s you, because it’s you.
And maybe on that day, I would make you a living, fiery flower too.

white hot ecstasy
                                    molting skins grinding slower,
i                     puttering to halt.
remember:
                            the grubby larva
                            sawing its way out of my
                                   putrid flesh cocoon.

                after worms love,
                we rotten husks
                never know one
                another.

     silence is all ever known.

somewhere
on the isle of my dreams,
under the palm beach leaves,
between the sea, the breeze,
and the golden darts of Sol;

i will find your fingers,
thread mine around them.
stay close to you evermore.

maybe it’s the way you


glued together
all the broken pieces i
would show you.


                        maybe it’s the way
                        you shattered them
                        all over again
and told me




“I’ll be back when you’re whole.”

i used to dream
of you

bursting into
the hearth

shivering as
i drape

a red blanket
round you.

i used to dream
of you

leaning into
languid

eazy gold warmth
from the

crackling fire built
for you.

awoken to
dead ash

i wished you were
buried in ice.

I pull open the top
of my head like
a refrigerator door and
scoop lumps of my cookie dough
dreams out.

Fold in bittersweet love,
chocolate chips and a
pinch of the
things I don’t know how to say.

Make them
my friends’ favorite shapes,
with cookie cutter words
and bake them by the
dozen

When the rain clouds just
won’t go away on a
dark stormy day, I’ll be there
to bake you cookies
your own special way

Blackened, raw, ruined cookies. Never
what my recipe envisioned,
never a good use of the things
in my fridge. Things I can’t
just buy again at a store

So my hands scrape against
bone as I go further in;
pull more of the dreams
out for them, for you
to chase the storms away,
to make light that I hope will stay.

The bakery room
tile is cold, my fingers blistered.
Not a single cookie has been delivered.
My clothes, my floors, my walls...
Stained with burnt cookie hopes,
and raw cookie dreams

My fingernails bleed as I
scrabble at the floor,
claw at my hollowed out skull.
I’m desperate for
one more chocolate chip
one more kind word
just one little batch of cookie dough.

But I know there’s nothing,
only the sound of scraping nails
and the echo, echo, echo
inside my head.

last time we
saw each other
we made love.

now we don’t
even make
conversation.

tfel ot thgiR
ꓵbƨᴉdԍ doʍn
Misread signals and


a torn up note sitting at the bottom of a
x̴̙͖̙̲͕̋̐͠mͤ̄ͫͤ̆҉̻̬̫̞̠́͞h̯͉̱̣̠̫̪͓͌̆̍ͤk̡̘͓̗͐͑ͦ́͡r̟̘̻̰̋­̪̮̠̤ḵ͉̦̣͖̜̭̓̐̌̆̇͠e̸̫̬͎̊͂̀ͬ̐͒ͨͥj̴͇̜ͪ͑ͩ̔́ͨ̂̕3̦̱̣̼̣͆̊͒͒̍̓͐͒͠4͂͗͐́͂͡­̲͍̘̻̺̫̱̹̳8̩̦̘͙̼̦̫͂̑ͨ͋̑̃̽́̚ͅͅ6͆̄̆̿͞҉͚̹̙̟̗̠͉4̸̺͉̠͇̝̱̎̅͟9̯̮̤͕̙͓͓ͯ̌̕͞­̼̱y̬̤͓̙͔̲͑͊̅͂ͩ̔́ȩ̜̘̺̱̭̖̺̝ͧ̄̏ͨ̑́͞ṙ̶͍̮̜ͬ͂͛j̥̠͙̪̙̥͎ͣͫ͊̀̍̏̕̕͝g̟͓̐͂͡­̼͇̟͚͚


It couldn’t have been me
An angsty teen,
a modern artist,
some idiot with a spray can I’ll never know
              I only read
the writing on the
w̷̢͖͕̦̘̳̙ͮ̋̍ͤ͒ͮͫ͘X̷̱̱͕͇̤̝̲͉̂̊̎ͬ̇ͣ̽͌̌̓͐͂̔̓͘͟͢&̑ͫ͒͑͢҉̡̢̹̹͓̙̪͖̮͉͖͇̗̭̱n͌͌ͨ̌͐̄ͪ̏̇͊҉̛̠̦̝̦̻̝̭͚̼͔̭̫̺͔͈̳̬̩̰bͯ̔͋͑̀ͫͦͭ͋̅͌­̨̗̱͙̟͕̮̟̜̲͋ͤ̀͋ṡ̷̹̘̦͍̥͔̯͚͖͕̬̫̇ͬ̐̔ͯ̒͋̑ͧ̇ͥͯ̀͝͝ͅp̶̸̷͇͈̃ͧ͋͑̎̑ͫ͐ͤͯ̔̂́͝­̘̗ȧ̶̢̲͙̙̪͈͎̫̩̥͈͔̺͉̥͖̲̊ͮ͗̊͊ͫͬ͂ͭ͆͂̂̊́ͪd̸͔̞̮̲̋͛͒ͫ̎ͯ̍ͥ̂̓͂͐̌̊͊̔̂̒̀͜͟͡­̥̭̹̯̝̲͚̮̠̟̰̝k̴̢̨̢̦̗̦̯͖̙̮͉̟̮̪͎͚͓̼͗̽́̀͋̚͝f̸͑ͥ͊̇̓̿͛̒ͣͦͪ̿ͫ̉ͩͭ̊̚͞͏̖͍̘͈­̙̗̳͕͕̳̥̹̟̟͓3̵̛̭̭̤͖̯̣̼͔͖̬͕̖͚͖̰̪̺̟͑̍͋ͥͧͯͮ̑̕4̷̧̭̹͚̬̙̻̜̗͎̮̆̑ͬͯ̂͛ͤͯ̽́ͅ­̤̬̟͚̻̙4̡̯͔̙̻́ͮ̀̏ͤ͋̍ͨͯͪͥ͛̓ͭ͘͠͡l̴͙͓̱͈̠͚̻̰̮̭̝̘̗͈̊́͛͊͊̎̌̌ͮ̐ͯ͗̒́lͭͦ͋̑̑­̳̝͉͔̯̠͔͔͗̽̕͢͡͡


Late at night, I imagine
the taste of your mouth, me i̢͢f͜͢ yò̶͢u҉͏ ̸n̡e̸v̛͏͡e͢҉r̨̨ ̴t͡ò̸͞úc̴͞h͜͡e͞d̨͢ ̵̢̕h͏͢͜e͝r̛͢͡
counting the number of your teeth                                    i̵͢f̛͝ ͞͞i͘͞ ̢͘ş͠a̶̵͜iḑ̡͘ ̶͜s͝ơm̴̕ę̀t̢̡̛h͠i̷ng͢͡
with my tongue i̷͝f̸͞ ̸y͏̶̕ou̷͘͜ ҉̨h̨͡a̴̧ḑ́
the way your breath would slow, down to a grumbling putter as sleep took you.       m̧͎͉̜̙̺͍͇̪̞̘͎̖̜͙̑̐̌̔͂̒̂̔̇̇ͦ͘͡e̷̽͒̅͊̽̅̀ͬ̿͛̋̄̔̐͂̚͠͏͇͖̪̼͙̠̙


And even though it isn’t me,
the tight, heady pain where your love should be
Brings me to sunrise, where I can bury
all of what should have been,
wash away my dreams like graffiti on a wall, find peace
In the place where my sleep will take me.

I feel so empty.
I have no will to live. I
will have to live on.

My thoughts, they’re
nestled between carapace and wax
in the spaces between the dancing
hymnals of a worker, telling her sisters
where the sweetest nectar can be found.

My head, it's
hollowed out; don’t you see how the larvae
fall from my ears? See how the worms
drip from my nose like snot? Can you see how
teardrops of raw honey roll down my cheeks?

The freezing lion winter slinks forward,
lays a heavy paw on my chest.
One that pushes the drones away and leaves
my skull an empty hive with scattered thoughts
slowly sponging out to fill the empty spaces.

And somewhere,
nestled between honeycomb and four wooden walls
I find myself growing into the hive;
making ready to share the honey the bees made,
wrapped in my thoughts and bone, from the nectar of
my mind.

my thoughts are peanut butter
sticking to the roof of my head
when i can’t find a glass of milk.

my voice is like syrup
sticking in my throat,
never pouring out of the empty cracks

anxiety’s tendrils coil around my ribs
and spur my heart to run another year’s drag race.

I want a moment,
one the world can give me without
missing. A velvet moment that I can
rub circles into when my sleep is dreamless.

I want a moment,
of insignificance and of meaninglessness. One
I can replay in my head over and over until nobody can
ascribe some import and pattern to what I’ve
done, to who I am.

I want a moment,
a sharp little moment.
Something for anyone
made to be
            something for me.

A moment that comes boxed
like little gas station razors,
one that will weather
cut
smooth
my sandpaper skin
like waves.

Waves.

Waves smashing against my cliff face and
Crashing against my jagged rocks and
Smoothing my sharp breaks
until nothing is left


until all I am is miles of soft pink sand
for you
             to dig your toes in.