he was the summer crashed and crushedinto a boy who did not exist yet; and i remember a noveli was going to write -- about a girl with salted longhair, riding her bikealong seaside cliffs and a boy with black -- hair who worked in a bakery and wanted to kill himself. now when i… Continue reading poem: savoir complex in maine
Tag: free verse
poem: touya
the boy he told me i don't believe anymore in the rest of my far away life and i told him none of usdo that is the secret everyoneis lonely and no oneis lonely everyone is separateand languishing
poem: shifting
remember? i dreamed aboutthis kind of bliss but now in the pulled-apart strings of myheart there is onlya dull long ache and the aluminum footsteps of heart-burncoming up from my chest like a foreign man crossing overmy seven boarders his handsstill wet. remember? we were going to takethe world i woke you up in the… Continue reading poem: shifting
poem: I have lost reality many times
and yet she always come back, that unreliable bitch. you'd think I could let my organs run off in snot safetyfor several hours and not return to disgusting wherewithal when I shower or finally sleep, as if everything wrong with me was merely situational. I can write claimsin mad tongues that I am also doomed… Continue reading poem: I have lost reality many times
poem: vendetta for the summertime
i have run through the streets, kicking my breasts before melike two cast-off wheels; i have dyedmy hair from a box,it is red, like the red scraped under my nailsfrom fucking your son. i am kidding of course; i am too busy languishingin hospital beds or the wet parts of my mind, and lately the… Continue reading poem: vendetta for the summertime
poem: introduction to portraiture
this morning i woke up, and ignored thattomorrow i will do soagain; we are in the stages we are not thinkingabout that. again. i have a lotof things i only useonce a week/month, i have a lotof pride. this morningi flossed with crystal floss, i foughtwith my mother. i am so fuckingmad at youright now.… Continue reading poem: introduction to portraiture
poem: liberal arts
the woman in the k-mart gable ate french breadwith dirty hands, she had opinions about impressionism but did not know who monet was, only that debussywas apparently an anti-semite, a fact retold at theoryseminars, when she was a young woman and threwher body around like dough. it impossible to say: sex and not also: woman'sempowerment… Continue reading poem: liberal arts
poem: the view from my living room window
some people light small fires—I, am lit. someday i will be won and not waiting: it is an old refrain, told by older woman; in the still afternoon i watch three sparrows circle my childhood, the greens glowing yellow, and i think— there is something waiting out there, there is something roaring.
poem: stay-at-home woman
do you remember the red telephone, sitting like a silent cat, renovating the hall with its small plastic face? i watched you leave, the first day, and then i called my mother. the baby was twisting like an almond, a sliver in my ocean-split stomach; i put my hands over my mouth so she wouldn’t… Continue reading poem: stay-at-home woman
poem: the ancient man
his hands, holding me were like the ocean exploding in my mouth. and I brought the long fingers, the star-fish arms studded with sea spray and drowned crow gilt— i let them buzz me, the edges of things breaking against me like i was the world and he was the water.
the last pavilion 