you.

the thing with you

is i didn’t

see it coming 

i felt it 

shy, eager 

on my fingertips 

clinging 

snow-like to my

lips

the melting

slow,

cautious in its

warmth 

you built 

into me

dark and purple 

rosemary 

promises

wafting 

heady 

did you know

your lip

curves up a little

on the left 

leave it like that i like it there 

a question

there’s a 

forehead wrinkle thin

line

between feeling 

needy 

and needed 

sometimes i am so

enveloped by you

your softness greets

me in a way

previously unknown 

other times i

step back on

shells

crunching under

me like

an emptiness 

i’ve yet to catch

but when i do

i think i’ll call

it indigo 

i want to take your hands

in mine and ask

if i am dazzling to you

if i dazzle you

do i make you 

smile to yourself

when you are alone 

because 

when you say

i love you

i believe it but

are you so very in love with me you just can’t

help yourself 

or is it a love like

a small shrug

that kind of love

has haunted me

more than i’d like and

it always scars

deeper than it

stays sharp 

so hear me when i ask 

is this the kind of love that lasts

are you deeply in love or

just checking

off

a

box 

on your list of to dos

pebbles

i’m watching 

your mouth

pebbles 

plinking

out

trickling over

your

soft pink lips

spilling 

onto your lap

over your 

hands held

open

like 

why 

why 

can 

you

not

be

what

i

need

plinking 

gravel

onto me

onto the ground

clunking 

heavy 

hard 

echoing 

plaintively 

and me 

with my 

hands on my

face

holding 

me 

holding it

all

back 

in

pour

you
drew me

oil
to
water

on in over

beneath
beside
between

slipping
smoothing
sweet

bubbling
complete

stretched
time slow

equal parts

shine

obligatory

i am getting better

at saying goodbye 

although small things 

the way the black

fence curves into

itself

still make me cry

the taste of your

lips on

my cheek

breath 

weed heavy

haunts me 

pressing

fresh unknown 

foot prints

on the carpet 

leading somewhere 

leaving scorched 

finger callings

scraped

charcoal heavy 

across the glass

the desire to 

escape this world

but only 

once it 

knows me

surely we've lived here before

i should
have
said
it
before
now
but you
know
i think
too much
you
know
you
think
too
much
too

so let’s
stretch
it simple it
was like
butter
on the counter

i didn’t even
notice it
melting
until i
picked it up
and it
puddled
in my hand

surprise
isn’t the right
word
more
like
intoxication

your whiskey stare
drowns me
whispers hot
in my belly
champagne
blushing
my cheeks
so
when i tell
you
it will
be too slurred

it will read like

goodnight
kisses
lingering
too
long

it will play like

shy fingers
brushing through
your hair

i should
have said
it before
now

now
you must
already
know

that night, i knew

do you
remember

that
young
summer
evening

we sat
child like
on your
back porch

chicago dusk
settling
like charcoal
over our heads

while the
basil
you had just
planted
bloomed
earthy sweet

and me
small
blanket wrapped
tea drinker

knees pulled
close
to heart

looking to
the heavens
while jazz
syncopated
skyward

and you
slippered
nodding soft
contentment

there were no stars
because
light pollution
ate them but

apartment
windows
winked
gold

and the night
held us
sweetly enough
we did not
mind

i was so
happy

do you remember?

you were
happy too
i think

when
my hand
searched
for yours

finding it
soft
&
safe

we faced
the silent
unknown

slipping
into
black
velvet
folds

together

humming
jazz echoes
gently
into

the
silken
summer
sky

float

falling
is
never
the
same

twice

only

you
told
yourself
before

no

not

again

ever

last
time
the
wound—

deeper
than
expected

but

bandaged
with
hyssop
&
honey

healed

so
now,

catching
his eye

drops
you
gentle

stomach
falling
soft

a white
feather
flown
from

a tremendous
height

floating

carried
on
warm
lilac
wind

falling

perhaps
forever

or
at
least
until

rain
clouds
break
overhead

of the nomadic persuasion

the dusky
east wind
whispers
gypsy desires
blooming
lilac sweet
on my skin
while
blushing eyes
raise to meet
this long lost
lover
his promises
sharp on
my tongue
taste of
cinnamon
desert dust
forgotten trysts

sand running
soft and hot
through my fingers
his caress on my
cheek
constant
persistent

i must have
nomad
in my veins:
sunsets never
daring
enough
grass never
greener

the night sets

still
i am
far from
happy
still
i am
far from
home

growing pains

it is
the slow
growing
that takes
more
from me

soft
dissipation
smoothing
inwards

seeping
velvet thick
into my
ears

wrapping
around my
lungs

furtive and white

tattooing
hard in
my veins

so that
clutching
my stomach

i wake

in the dark
sobbing

let it be still

i beg

everyone
knows
growing
pains
are the
worst kind

ivy

you smooth
down

body
paralleling
mine

sun
from the window

stretching shadow slits

across your
back

while you, laying your
head on a pillow

eye me wide
as if to say

here i am

you did not ask for me

but i am yours
for just this moment

perhaps more
who is to say

and me
smiling dumb

kissed hard by
desire but

unsure of anything

and wanting wanting
to reach out
and touch you but

i know
and you know—

look, even now
the clouds have shifted course

the ivy
lit from within
lazy in the sun

delicate green
veined against
your window

growing into each other
but to wither and die

and i know
and you know

our
bodies
are nothing

nothing
but shadow and dust

so when you reach
to touch my face

who is to say
i am not
already

gone

sink

when i was
ten

i dove into
the deep end
of the pool

hands hitting
water splitting

sharp

cold up my
veins

plunging whole

oxygen bubbling
whale-like
streams
behind
me

i slipped
into the
silence

light
glimmering
soft blue

sinking sinking
to where it
was deepest

arms floating
gentle, up

here, i heard
nothing
but my
heart

i opened my mouth

let the air escape

listened to the
dull thump
in my ears

i am still here i am still alive

and the
world was
hushed

split open blue
poured out
mosaic

my lungs were young
burning things—

my heart ignored
their cries

i sat, stranded
sunk at the
center

12 ft
glistening
up

thinking
for the first time

what it would
be to die

my soul
suspended
in star soup

floating
glistening

underneath
silence

everything
above
it all

hung steady
between
saturn and venus

listening to
the planet’s rings
sing

pushing straight through
an asteroid belt

i plummet
upwards

breaking the surface
with one giant
splashing breath

lungs humming happy:

for now
for now

it is good to be ten
it is good to be breathing

it is good
just to be

the water
inhales
around me

like a prophecy

the year the birds came

the year the birds came
we caught them
with open hands

plump bodies flapping
hard hard, we
pinned them in

snapping their necks
quick! like
cups we broke
when we were five

plucking clean

we roasted them over
a fire

brittle bones crackling

juice trickling down
our chin, we grinned
and told stories of

yesterday and tomorrow

so the birds became
our lusts
flesh charred
desire

our dreams
small empty
flightless

our guilt
left to rot

after dinner
we became depressed

our stomachs
ached

fingers greased with
fat, we wiped

them on our
naked chests
to signify remorse

prayed earnestly to
all bird gods

hear us
hear us

picking flesh
from between
our teeth

spitting
gristle
onto ground

forgive us
we cried

eyes lifted

waiting waiting

waiting for the
birds to come

again

but our prayers
echoed empty
through burnt rib
cages

tremoring
still warm

on the ground

glistening clean
empty fresh

we licked
our fingers
tasting the salt

like a
wounded dog

crept off
howling
into the night

leaving behind
white carnage

and shatters
of what we

had been

under

the wave
comes

big
beautiful
delicious

delirious
orgasmic
crashing

heavy heavy

hands
to head

bright spots
fizzing

skin eyes

pull
away

hurtful
violet
heaves
down
hot

fresh
ocean
salt

waves hurtling
over over

clutching head
drawing knees

up up to
chin

a soft
sea urchin

my body
swallows
great gulps

rising
to
slurp
the fear

heavenwards

sucking
sweet
glory

the taste
of mothers’
tears

it is too late
to be afraid

of drowning

4/23/17

i stretch
cat like
out
on your deck

purring

eying you
lazy
sleepy

spring sun
warming

the sky
a brilliant
cerulean

so close

i reach
to pull it
down

stretching
fingers up up

cutting
shadow silhouettes
across my face

the deck ceiling
peeling
a mustard yellow

i like it

almost as much
as i like
being here

sprawled out
eating
sunshine like

i paid good money
for that

you in your bathrobe
coffee in hand

and me,
on my back
squinting
up up

do you
think god
knows we
talk about
him

would he laugh
to hear
us

if i were god,
i would laugh

we are so small
we are so human

and
it is april

the sky is
blue
the ceiling
yellow

it is april
and i am
on my back
in the sun

it is april
and you are
so

unexpected

in your slippers
and morning scruff

and me,
grinning hard
because

it is april
and
the sky
is so close
today

funny

so is god

so are you

it is here we find the new

what did i
expect

when you
plunged
into
me

seeking
the
center

i gasped

air sweet
with your
sweat

poured
in

drenching me

blessed new
raw beginnings

fingers
clutching
clutching
rosary
hot

like

thank you

thank you for
everything
for nothing

that was all

i did not
say your name

i did not need it
to understand

the universe
that lay
within me

throat coated
starry eyed 
diamonds

toes curled
around
saturn

crescent moon
carved
in my navel

the milky way
in my clavicle

it was everything
it was enough

clutch

reaching reaching
palms white
shaking

open
willing

i wait for the
air birds
to fall

thick
heavy

all a flutter
heaving
breaths

white innocence
glinting soft
down

falling falling

feather
snow

drifting
drifting

but
i can’t
make
it

stick

tight
fingers
grabbing

clutching
air

no birds
just

the space
between my
finger bones

telling me
the empty
still
eats
alone

sobbing

the feathers
fall through

clutching
hands

do you remember
that
summer

the wind soft
in your hair

lights flickering
about your
temples

no air birds
to haunt
us then

but
winter
is still upon
us

i grow
weary
of the grey fear

that sucks
my marrow

clean

collision

we’ve been
strapped in
for what

feels like forever

driving
somewhere

anywhere

except
where
we just
were

bumping
    hard
smashing
    loud

going going

going circles
against
what
used to be

what now is

is not
who we were

the last time

i crashed into
you

you said it hurt

no shit
there was glass
everywhere
so

i did
it again
because

well

because it hurt
me
too

and you can’t
be the only
one

who gets hurt who gets
to hurt
around here

besides
you were
in my

way

going going

going circles

to nowhere
to anywhere

but where
you
used to be

better believe
next time i crash
into you

we will be
different

we will be
older

but we will still
be

going going

we will still be

bumper cars

we will still be
hurt

in which we discover the center

tracing constellations
on my freckles

nose
to cheek

cheek
to chin

telling me
about the stars
clustered
in my skin

the kind
of shit
you say
when you want to say

something

but don’t know
what

i’m grinning
like an
idiot

can’t help it
lying here

constellations
posed on my
face, radiant

star light
beaming
shining

hitting your eyes
hard don’t you
feel it

milky way licking
my lips
like

shut up
shut up

let me
tell you how
beautiful you
are and

how infinite
it all
just became

lying here
a vast
cosmos

within me

you have discovered
a starry eyed realm

ours to
subdue

For A

i got your
letter
last thursday

it had been
raining

you would have liked it
you would have said

it was nice

pulling the
envelope
out:

the return address
only
your nomadic
name

breaking
the seal was

your chin
on my shoulder

12 am
last year

you made
me grilled cheese
sandwiches with
yellow Kraft singles

and laughing we
leaned over
your deck railing
to catch the passing
train

late night
cigarette light
smoothing
over
your cheeks

but your words now
tracking rapid frantic
across the page

betray a loneliness
i knew haunted
you then,
now
it seems

it has not yet
left

you talk in
circles
that stick
foggy on my eyes

weeds growing
gnarled and thick
over a tomb

so much you
it makes me
cry

leaning heart
heavy

holding your letter
with trembling pale
hands

i hurt for
you

too
because

i know
how hard

it was
to
write
such

delicate
words

i take
your face
in my hands
and tell you
it is all beautiful

it is all beautiful
it will not hurt you

and

you would have liked it
you would have said

it was nice

in which i sympathize with belshazzar

tonight
the walls
burble

radiator
groans

around
elevator
murmurs

dull
human
droning

sharp
floor
squeaks

just loud enough
to be
considerate conversation

listen, i say
they are talking to us

you ask
what are they saying

but when did
i become the
wall interpreter

head nestled
in your chest

heart vibrations
intermingling with
heady wall tremors

both tattooing
quick on my
ears like

catch it! catch it!

this
conversation
will be over
so soon and

i don’t even
know what
was said

i squint dim
into the bedroom
looking for an answer

modern day belshazzar
frantic head pacing

god damn
something
is written there

in the air

i trace your arms
hoping

the invisible ink
shimmering
child like overhead

has dried braille
on your skin

in your dimly lit bedroom / my body thinks aloud

you pass me
a cold IPA

pulling bed covers
closer over
your chest

i take a swig

the hops
bitter
seize my tongue

washing

your salt taste

down

my
throat like

rain pooling
into street
gutters

guzzling inward

slipping
crashing
buzzing

into
me

so
when
your hand
grabs
mine

interlocking digits
interlinking
eyes

hazel like
autumn forest moss
grown thin by the
creek

not blinking
but sinking

heavy into
my own
blue
so thick

i almost choke
on the

taste

too soon
sudden
sweet

catching me
quick by the ankles

kissing
up my
thigh

i sink
into you

my stomach
plunging

purple velvet
on the turn table

tripping over
itself

twisting into
complications

cumulus clouds

over
stormy
sea

februum

you come to me
in slivers

small parts
melting

water drops
sliding down
stained glass window

lit from within
with glowing
intonation

collecting
in small puddles
of glass memory

this is a slow
warming, winter
hands held

out
open
over

fire like prophesy

we ease into
the unknown

dipping our toe
tentatively like bathers

who, undressing
slip softly
into warm bath water

slipping softly

into each other’s
thoughts

in the end we were too much ourselves to be anything else

1.

last december
perched on a bar stool
my sweater slipped
over my shoulder, i
bared open to
your touch

your eyes
moved along my lips
tasting heavy words

thus

we crashed hard
into
everything we wanted
ourselves
to be

splayed open
we held fast to 
glimmery star promises
stuck to our teeth
caught in our mesmerized mouths

for a twinkling
there was healing

souls intertwining
cosmically rhythmic
we swayed into the night

2.

but we were only ever
ourselves

delusion
kissed our illusion
a sour goodbye

we overlapped
again, again, again

found we could not understand
ourself anymore

an exile in our native land
we wondered blind
until we fell into

distorted disarray

3.

this is where i tell you goodbye

it is not as hard
as i thought

to crash
into the future alone

4.

after the crash
i pick myself up

your roots
had dried inwards
my hands pull them
out swift

our overlap
not as
deep as previous
calculations
led me to believe

still

the gaping hole filled quick with
water and blood, i staunch
it with kisses thrown
gentle on my feet

5.

last night
at the coat check
i gave them your name

too heavy to carry with me
all night i said

they nodded
took it tagged it

when i left, i did not pick it up

for a glimmering

last night
we talked of soul softness

you & i
a small colony of
understanding
squished into
a plush red booth

“what do you think that looks like”
I asked of you

{soul softness is something
i have been trying to
conquer lately}

and you responded
“a sheep”

which is not what i was going for,
not at all

but your answer makes me
laugh, 12:30 a.m.
cocktail in hand
booth growing friendlier
by the minute
popping careless
chex mix pills,
laughter an easy
commodity to trade

and i ache because
the simplicity of it all
is too good
to last

for this moment though
let me dance in the
effervescent twilight
of these early days

when your arm slipped
around me easily
my stomach twinged in the
most pleasant of ways

taking lessons from
history, we know this
has a high chance of
crash and burn

but last night i saw
your soul
for a second
slivered bright

my hands caught it soft

it was the most innocent thing

watch me as i stare

eyes wide,
caught off guard
by how
blank

the sky

her face

his hands

too blank
to blink
back
any sort of
bravery

caught up
caught off
guard by

sudden chilling
nakedness

eyes white as
sunshine
blinding

blank

when i heard of you:
how your breath
went

—stolen
slick—

my hands clutched at
memories
too blurry

to even pin
down
on new paper

but

the blankness
is what i remember most

which

strange—i feel
small things
so

monuments
marked by
marble statues
solid, firm

but this?

this holds no
thing this
holds nothing
this holds
me soft
as i
quiet flesh
slip
by

still blank

hold me while i vomit it out

what ifs
are what
hurt most

like

what if
you hadn’t
felt so
inclined to

kiss me or

what if you
hadn’t rooted
your way in

to my head
with what ifs
last week

1 a.m.
sleepy lazy
eying me

what ifs
felt conquerable
with sheer beating
hearts then

my head pressed
against your chest
heard
thumping hesitancy
strong

tonight, what ifs
are the worst
in your head

for you, what ifs
paint moon
shadows, eclipsing swift

for me, i see
only the glimmering
stars

i want to ask:

what if you
didn’t focus
so much
on what ifs

so what
then

but the what ifs
for me
for you
always
eat first

confessions

first:
i have written a lot
of shit poetry lately

(unfortunate)

happens when 
trying to rework
the process
of mending,
stretching flesh
over feelings
growing growing
new skin
to cover these
blood scraped knees.

second:
this is another shit poem

(accept apologies
in advance
yea?)

but maybe
there is healing

or maybe i have
swallowed too often
such pinched belief

but again!
this is the line i want
tattooed on my tongue

maybe there is healing:
slow
when you are close

when i press my nose
to your hair
smells like
tea tree oil,
things forgotten long ago.

third:
my fingers got lost
in your curls

(yesterday)

i did not mind it.