the heat is smushing my brains.

social interaction has become a chore.

i wish i were snuggling right now.

Tonight, the sun is lowering herself into the distant hills with a sigh. The sky is streaked with pink, like my cheeks flush with wine. Somewhere to the east a bullfrog is croaking. I am formulating plans, hatching ideas, crafting escape routes. The greatest distance between who you are and where you have been is the proximity of the stiches on your heart. I knit this time close. I am who I am. Rejoice.

alone and at home i am terrified of the monsters inside. my tongue probes gingerly at a morsel of infinity wishing for one of the thousands of delights that exist between heaven and earth. finally the waltz and the fiery urge, tell me your wishes before i emerge out into a dawning a rushing unfolding- the coffeepot’s done and the rainclouds are holding. we’ll hold out our wrists and bleed willingly for it’s too much to bear to pretend not to see.

let’s take this south of the border.

Slow how you go now, I am a kitten most easily frightened and disarmingly curious. Chaos will kiss you often enough, so I love you much most beautiful silent solitude. Full health returns to my sharpened cheeks and determined legs (my temples sweat nostalgically).

My feet have hardened. During the day, I speak in baby-talk and give away copious amounts of stickers to beautiful children and refuse to feel sad for their sake. In the afternoons, I drink cold white wine and read, ceasing only to write and speak in love-talk. My weekends are for friends and lovers and generally others.

(mine is a good life I like it very much thank you for coming)

At moonlit midnight I rock slowly in my hammock, feeling small beneath the star-speckled sky, singing softly. Redemptively.

today i sat in a sweltering classroom encouraging meghan to put erasers on pencils and those pencils in tubes. her hands were shaking and she broke into laughter every time i told her how good she was working. in the background, the teacher and psychologist argued about her heatedly even though she was in the room and can sense tension and knows when you’re talking about her, and i hear,

…you send me a 20-year old college student with no experience and no degree to try and help a child who’s not going to change…”

and yet, they’d never seen her keep her attention on task for so long, or play the way she did at the end of the day.

so there, motherfuckers.

a half-hundred wishes to come true

may i have the serenity to accept what i cannot change, the courage to change what i cannot accept, and the wisdom to know the difference.

to become what i am, to know who “we” is, to be naked as much as possible, to let desires flow through me and pass, to lie upon cool grass, to craft my body lean and strong, to know the extent of my own worth, to always listen for the wisdom of others, to sing and dance and bust out rhythms, to love in excess and without demands, to never complain,

to make amends.

to be continued.

Reflecting on the whooping cranes and triceratopses I found it delightning that the 3-D pop-up of the mind etched meaning into the shaded edges. Deprived into security? Deprived into security?!?! Give me nothing but a happy ending, let me off the hook, so we can join hands and sing and fuck each other in the after-life, a wet rippling orgy of non-protection. Keep love safe, secured, tied with bondage rope to the leisurely pace of the mediocre day. Hope! Hoooope!!! I wish it had been me falling apart, dissecting my own bloody organs and tissues with tweezers, hands fueled by speed and raw desperation. I wish I could fall apart again into my subsequent past lives and moments of clarity. My body is a caged animal pacing, wishing to roar but stifled by the muzzle of pure singularity. This solitude is nearly too much to bear. I bear the fruit of my gasping lungs in the muscles of my thighs. I bare my thighs around the fruit of gasping you. Please now I was not meant for oh

but it is
But it is all right- sunlight and ripened fruit, tattered pages and my dream-filled, lovesick mind. Oh it is all right, all right. There are purple flowers scattered all around.


As time will flush the color from your cheeks and the glare from your eyes, so will I begin to notice the ripe bellies of flowers and subsequent luscious delights of small woodland creatures. In stillness I am full health and eager arms, ready kissing lips waiting impatiently for your return. In the wee hours of the night all is more than right, it is delightfully wrong and composed in sing-song. Come now pulsing writhing sweating calling out- come now beneath wet covers and between forbidden walls. The ground is freer and clearer than the sky star-ridden before dawn. When I was young I would sneak outside and lie on the ground, earphones pressed tightly to my ears, eyes riveted in wonderment at the riddled spotted canvas above me, wishing waiting for that singular moment of utter clarity, total insanity- smallness. I am young and beautiful and alive and in love. Let it.