publications

bend your ear toward the adjectives of your life,the shapes of it (curling furtive sly and shy). do you wish to stop and yearn to die? bedazzle me now this is a burst of stars streaming down my skin fast and hotly and swirling confused and back to sky. i am at a loss.

i think deep down every human being on this lonely planet just wants a warm, wet, weightless atmosphere to return to at the end of the night.

and i will, i know, live not long but just with each breathing.

enfin.

We can never be born enough. We are human beings;for whom birth is a supremely welcome mystery, the mystery of growing: the mystery which happens only and whenever we are faithful to ourselves. You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming. Life, for eternal us, is now; and now is much too busy being a little more than everything to seem anything,catastrophic included.”
-e.e. cummings

Baby, this is my parade of angels and I bring them out to tease and pull the mask off your fuzzy face. Their laughter is a ribbon of electricity I run through your spine; their smiles are intoxicating and seductive and mine. I do not come for love alone, undone in the face of an abyss in space. Imagine me at my worst and I’ll be nothing less than my best, or watch the peregrines wander falter stumble and find their feet again, webbed like we are webbed neurons pupils fingertips the hottest spots beneath the skin rising to meet lips gasping-

On the road I am the last particles of a dream escaping my own memory leaning forward in time,tensed and trembling and barely breathing. Thunder evaporates in the space around my brain while the narrowed eyes of older generations taunt my reckless nature. Love Love! Anything for love, everything for love, why breathing if not for love?! Why desire anything less than to be full enough to possess oneself completely, stare determinedly into a void that always beat me back, and say fuck that? Gather together now the illimitable strength of all that is human and flawed and grieving and call it even, call it more than even call it victory;call it a win for humanity that such beauty could be created that you can do nothing, nothing in the face of it other than fall down sobbing, on your knees, screaming wrenching the guts loose pulling down all the blinds ripping down the walls with bleeding fingernails oh! windows down road rising up to meet you and nothing nothing nothing in front of you but all you choose to feel what to say (how to how to be) but yes! yes this is
what would set
words
free.

This is a trembling spin of a time, and lightning trickles in when most inopportune. How to describe my total immersion into seclusion? I wish for warm blankets and beaches and your eyes looking into mine. I wish for laughter and chinese checkers and pauses in time. Somewhere along the way I decided I wanted to keep you all, and I wonder if this is selfish or simply human. Somewhere along the way restlessness became intrinsic nature and splashes of thunder became dangerous and rare. One day soon I will see you and pull you into sand and utter, unadulterated love. I am crackling with life more than ever before and more terrified than I can say. I am terrified I will be forgotten while I am wheedling my hours away in this desolate town wishing I could be adventuring or just laying in a bed of flowers with you. Today I ran to the trails behind the college and wandered serenely through the green thinking of what it would be like to fly and battle demons in the sky. Today I drank coffee with a little boy who is no longer little and scrawled poetry all over his scrap paper. Today I felt hopeless and alive. Today I missed you just as much as yesterday. Today I wished fervently for inspiration, and it came to me in the form of a glass of Merlot.

When it called the moon scampered behind the blanket of the sky, the earth shook off the dusty dull, and I raised my throat upward to the breeze. In the midst of this apocalypse we were rising up to meet the tidal wave of the shuddering ocean. It looked as though the blood would wash out the water, to strangle the father the son and the daughter. Wait Wait! What is more, what is seeing but believing in the images of things? Things, colors, static, the faceless background noise of the mind. The minds of some unraveled beyond and found redemption there. They sang a song, a strange song without a word and all we heard was a humming hiss. I rose up from the grass and deposited this like many lovely shadows falling all around without a sound. I thought they would injure all they touched but instead they were gentle and softer and hushed.

would your wish be to open, when seeping out it merged with everything
else. i call this nonconclusive, i say it’s just conducive
to the study of practicing how just to stay here now,
in the center of a steady pulse, certainly
the best things tether mind to body to
the insanity of the soul’s
hard-pressed bouquet of flowering.
we sat at the buffet and we sat all day,
staring at the fruit juices on plates
collecting- collecting thoughts for another place
(be it forward or backward both are all or more destructive).

i say gather your fortitude for summer,
lay still beneath burnt lilac bushes and crusted beehives,
a humming, a purring, back arched like cat/march hair; dark/fair.
when opening these pages i find the fierce howling desire
to kiss you all and give
my smile’s trembling, my eyes’ wetness
back into the churning
i say i’d rather give it all away
then stand alone and burning.

(and i meant it. and i mean to do this earnestly.
this could be something i could care to care about,
perpetual loving, open-ended caring,
come back here now to the point . of being)

Oh, little one, walk the earth
in search of sun-soaked edges.
With nothing to confess our distances found us
all weeping lilting voices lifting
it out with spoons of righteousness
you must
change your life

and when the sky moans and crackles i exhale
to keep the stars out of my mouth