here it is about me: ambitious, but with no object — instead a vague spilling-over of what is, crept into dissatisfaction and the feeling— cometh before the tulips but with the bright white light, creeping in — asking and asking. here is it about me: no self-esteem, the roller-coaster man-eater daddy left up and down… Continue reading poem: thinking about yourself too much
poem: the fall came in the desert
high orange, tight-trees in a windbox and i / am not there to see them, every fall becomes like this, a madhouse, and mockery — of hope, little thing, what do you have left to believe in — hyperactivity of mind creates hyperactivity of body? — do you still believe you have potential, something will… Continue reading poem: the fall came in the desert
diaristically, the Last Poem
summer slucked in, naked and hands out -- summerglazed into fall. five days, count-down: white-blood brideprevious lover is plastic applicator of doomed science. oncemore with feeling, and feeling half-awake/flailing, dedicate this to myunmaking - New Woman, how will she write, once she is finallypricked? new art new sincerity i will also haunt the localdennys 24… Continue reading diaristically, the Last Poem
poem for purgatory (august)
rolled away in the deep sad, i am allbattered to pieces. i tell you, the countdown to paradiseprefigured by it, the untranslatable word for sorrow/horror. sitting in the slow of the doom, ocean-moutheating me open, vagina-teeth crawling up my spine, sucking inmy hand. no rest, no piece - no peace leftuntouched by the sucking ones,… Continue reading poem for purgatory (august)
poem: driving home from the – i lost count – appointment
i come down the cliff into the sore-bitten songof myself -- in the car, here is Youth Aesthetic, the desert in widesunlight smile without teeth, the college at the far end of townand swiveled out with trees, roads that lead upward andwrap beyond sight. i would cry for myself before; now it is numbhardness, clavicle… Continue reading poem: driving home from the – i lost count – appointment
poem: verse for summer of dread
the summer days in rust, default purgatorium, the wheels run, fast sylphs of time -- the days eek bya nest, a stocking-run, a sigh. and I wait,though the fetal heart throbs within -- idea of someday,remade, when time will finallybe less foe than friend.
poem: postmortem
this is my brain on cortisol addiction: this is my brain atthis fucking job -- I'm kidding, of course; here it is poetryand we transcend! the turn towards -- writing aboutother people, the fiction writer as creep rather than solipsist; I have failed, but who else will creep out myinfected heart-box, my gutted-out self-hatred: envyat… Continue reading poem: postmortem
anthology: the california poems
secrets from a girl who's seen it all. summer of 2023. "california" - all my desperation left me / after I fell in love and now I cannot write. "the other option is to try to conjure powerful emotions (but not feelings)" - he understands that you / write about what you have. "dear stranger who… Continue reading anthology: the california poems
poem: coven of fifteen
now reset to cyclical sad: it is natural, when the green comes loosein fluid forgiving, to find solace in the Old. slicing through fallingtime imagining a baby here, in this place, with this music -- or the strain of itat another place. rummaging through person unbeset by aberration - 30 secondbrain-warp! the internet produces a… Continue reading poem: coven of fifteen
poem: post-grunge
imagine being, cockroach, in the truck cab, they sayjump u jump, they say riot u riot. white-ass white-outtundra of the far out, you can drive and drive anddrive out here, son. can't sell out if you never blazed out,never proclaimed godhood or artistry. the radio hasbloody teeth, girls still like sucking nubs. the men inthe… Continue reading poem: post-grunge
the last pavilion 