August 2011
5 posts
she leaned in the wind to consort with the trees; trod blind foot on moss-bitten rock
the hymn of death thrummed through her body ‘til the thrill of it bloomed bright flames on her cheek
i am a liar, in all ways
every breath is a lie
the twinkle in my eye that only you seem to be able to find is a lie
the fall and rise in my voice as i screamed for MO-THER was a lie;
a lie, a lie, a lie.
in the sickly glut of dawn’s first light you wept to see me so, adorned, with collar and christ and newfound respect from the eyes of the villagers, who watched me genuflect
Strong are my hands, which hold you up, For in them run the blood of many, Who loved, as I love…
Those hundreds of thousands of millions
December 2010
1 post
birdie
stuck my nose into his fluffy acrid-sweet baby-feathered head; inhaled to burn him straight into my brain.
November 2010
12 posts
1 tag
I write poems on my thighs to memorize.
what is the point of a body? she kills me so.
i want to find the true wood that which speaks to me and of me to the surrounding skies and battered ground
where the feathered light is run aground on tombed buds waiting to rise again
oh but that i could find that place so i might finally lay my weary body down to sleep
2 tags
here's a love letter
if i plunged my teeth into an apple and you breathed in deep we could be sharing the joy of this one apple
IV
neglect the fleeting footfall of the hind
III
inhale the hoary cries of the peak
II
i shall swallow the moon
I
i want to eat the sun
October 2010
8 posts
my dreams are dancing like cars in earthquake
performing ablutions
many a night i’ve wished i had the will to jump into the dark water stripped bare of my clothes and pretensions
so- let’s talk, you say. okay.
let’s talk about this long dead ash in my throat.
let’s talk about the fish i drowned 1996, that was.
let’s talk about each and every time the sun never rose for me.
how about the night my body betrayed me? no wait, nights, that was. over and over again.
sure, let’s talk. let’s talk ‘til i fall and talk ‘til i crawl- ‘til my tongue hangs limpid and loose.
...
i wake several times a night reeling from dreams of hunger so powerful
no one knows what i’ve become i am bigger than everything and i am too small for my words
i lie, i cheat, i curse every hour.
the very real sensation of cicada trill filling my nose- but it was from a film.
so it wasn’t real, but it really was.
maybe it was just sinus pressure, or something.
dream-bog
peeled open that shaking rose with my guilt-ridden hands.
set it afloat on your river-tongue: hung, rung, tongue, lung.
what am i looking for?
i may never know, but i want to find it someday
September 2010
13 posts
i miss my death throe heartbeats
met my coffee-enamoured eyes with your busy streets of language
four packs of DPRK cigarettes in my prayer drawer mother, lamb, angel, roses, jesus on the cross, all- choking in my smoke and on my sins, the pearly pink beads of my rosary, rubbed smooth by my miseries, clacking together as i hail mary, full of grace, hail mary, full of grace now and at the hour of our death…
forgive me- i am sorry.
“Cut out
as a horse
is cut
from the
pack. Peeled
off, but
a long time...”
– Cut Out For It, by Kay Ryan
sunk my teeth into a soft lit candle burned my tongue and throat
things to eat//things not to eat
i am a baby in bed. today I am not letting anything through, i said, but the sun found me anyhow
i am soaked through and dreaming, i think, but I can hardly tell anymore
it’s just… really nice, today.
i think, maybe, I’ll go back to sleep.
woods
clear run waters you captured in a dam and i breathed, easy’n’clean
August 2010
11 posts
kisses and baubles both crushed underfoot
1 tag
take away my easy breaths, one by one. i am awake, and shall be forever
i’ve got a carsick heart heavy, loaded
she cried, i promise i’ll be the very best.
i am but a plain girl, full of hate.
today is okay, i am feeling fine.
i feel i feel i feel- too little, too much.
hi.
My fingers tap out the remaining records of my life, the rhythm to the “Happy Birthdays,”
-Unfinished, 2007
Sniffing the darkness the way a boy carefully inspects with his round soft nostrils- (sharply honed sense of smell rising to the occasion) sense used often to detect the familiar, the fold between his arm and chest- Ever so carefully.