I started puking birds-
I watched them fly south for the winter,
toward warmer pavement and fuller trees.

I started stuttering butterflies-
I watched them take giant sips from birdbaths,
We both know my mouth is so, so dry.

The thing about wings
the thing about things
the thing about trying to focus
and listen and nod while
My mouth is sticky and
my brain feels clogged, like a real
mess worth of paper towels
bunched and flushed in a panic
all the way down my throat

The electricity in this room is so loud
You keep talking, I look for outlets
You get annoyed, I turn off the lamp
You say stand still, I say I’m still listening
You say this is what I mean
I say I’m listening
I repeat what you said before you got annoyed
You say that’s not the point
I switch off the surge protector
I say it’s still there
you say that’s not the point
I say I hate this sound
You say it doesn’t bother me
You say if it ever does I put on the lofi-hip-hop-headphone-girl channel
You say think about it
I think about birds in trees instead
and if power lines are so so loud
or if it’s okay because they can drink from birdbaths
and fly south when they want to,
not just in winter. not just when the pavement is warm.


I say sometimes listening to you is like
watching a show with subtitles;
sometimes you are the audio and the electricity
is the subtitles, sometimes the
electricity is the audio and you are the subtitles,
and other times you are the electricity as well as
the subtitles and maybe there’s no audio at all,
and maybe the video is a few frames behind the audio
and maybe the subtitles are projected in reverse
like when you take a picture of a mirror
and maybe another electric note harmonizes with the first
and also maybe you’re having a stroke or at least
you’re really thirsty and you can’t unclench your knuckles.

You say now what, I say nothing
I’m on my knees, crawling the carpet,
feeling for outlets, scratching my rug burn,
unplugging sockets.

You say nothing for a moment
I listen for any quiet electricity still playing
you sit down next to me, I lift my legs up and over yours
I look at you, you look at my knees
you say I’m not annoyed, I say that’s not the point
you say listen
you say have you thought about microdosing
I should hear a punchline cymbal

I hear nothing, I don’t feel warm
I start to laugh then stop
I start to stutter then stop
I puke.

A cool cloudburst from up high will cleanse this *****
metropolis ..Overfilling the gutters and storm sewers , the viaducts
and retaining ponds , filthy black tar streets , sidewalks crying for
upkeep ..
Rid this unkempt town of dreaded pollen and factory dust ,
stagnant pools of non-potable creek water , scrub the tarmac
at the city airport ..
Wash the 'Big rigs' , the trailers , the railheads , buses and the commuter locations . Shine her tall skyscrapers , her radio towers and her subway stations ..
Polish the walkways , the store fronts and the precious , park greenery ..
Refill the birdbaths , the fishing ponds and the vibrant lakeland scenery ..

I looked into your eyes through shimmering teardrops
collecting into the birdbaths of my lids.

I found myself
among the endlessness of the universe.  Although
not cold, I searched for the stars I wished upon in the distance.  
No words shared.
My eyes were on a mission to figure out how this
galaxy wasn’t home.

You were ripped from
my heart
like a waxed strip on my hairy chest.  
What I mean is,
you removed the growth I had nurtured
and left an area bare and enflamed.  
And with the sharpened tongue
of words unsaid and undone,
your name was carved on a fresh bleeding heart
in shell shock.  
Added to a list of names I can’t speak without a stutter.  
Letters I read twice, like checking to see
if the iron is still hot and if my heart is still wounded.
The pain was  
tearing asunder memories that have not come to fruition, histories yet written, like pulling the nitrogen
from a fog blanket on the city.  

I unraveled the parts of my brain
that had strings to my heart.  
Your kisses became fingers shedding
the Onion layers of my soul.  
The outer layer was rough but sticky
and hard to cleanly remove.  
Each descending layer that followed was juicier and
commanded teardrops to come fleeing like refugees;
first wave, second wave,
then a full spring of unstoppable measure.  

And in your eyes I had moments saved
like zones on a video game.  
Each time we looked at each other to recount our progress,
life would give a small countdown and ask:
continue or quit?

I wept for each person I met with you.
My inner self found their files and
embraced each one with a letter of appreciation and
kissed them goodbye with my sincerest regrets.
My eyes sang them swan songs and promised to
cherish their memory like a scented candle
whose wick was snipped too short;
More could have been enjoyed
But what a lovely burn it was.

of harden earth and crowded
weeds, forests and shady trees.
Chipmunks dashing in
and out of her holes. And

scurrying little rat-like moles.
Everywhere are shades of greens,
running brooks and bubbling
streams. The sky is peppered  

with dark grey clouds. And sprinkled
by salty drops of clowns, blowing
their noses in heavy showers. And
an assortment of turtleneck flowers.

You'll be lost in the winding paths of
crimson leaves and robins splashing in teal
birdbaths. Circling till the barn owl shrieks
with her pale rounded cheeks.