Thursday, June 23, 2016


the color of angels
on rain clouds in
late summer
is slate gray,
the grasses grow dry
with the drought,
that month of passing on
to other worlds,
the air gets filled up with
humid heat of lover's eyes
and my sweaty palms
on black leather,
milk and mountain air,
please do not be any of those things.
smell sweet as before,
let me brush the skin
of those hands again, let me replay
every moment I missed
and every kiss
I could have given.

Sunday, June 19, 2016


"Do not let us forget
that You are our
Father in Heaven..."
in that instant,
I'm fifteen
back to sitting behind the counter with
my best friend across from me, his feet
against my legs,
baggy shorts and sports bras
-cause I told you,
remember-there was never any girl
staring into his pale eyes, we grin at this world
so silly, and adult expectations
make us gag so we just giggle,
eyes open during prayers
it's not that we don't believe,  we just
have this youth,
this monster in our souls,
"You are the Creator,
and we are Your creation,"
oh, dear God,
what happened in this short time?
the boy sits alone
cause his girl is gone,
not me,
I have my head
bowed in reluctant submission,
where are you again?
sharing names but never faces-
oh shit, sorry I got confused one time but I,
I swear I'm over that now,
cause if I'm fifteen, you'd be-hmmm,
rebelling against the world somewhere
under abbreviations which mean nothing to anyone
but me
with big torches in your eyes
like mirrors of mine
what would we feel, grinning, holding
hands on the floor, eyes open
during this prayer-but would you
fall for my immaturity or
could you love me?
what about those songs we heard last night-
will we get struck down for our
acting out, or will you
clasp me, age fifteen,
I know nothing about the world I just know
sometimes, I need your
mere humanity.

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Debonair Alcohol

I pop atmosphere like pills now
curse my introversion
there are lips begging to speak yet
I have no way to open the gates
to my mind in a fog
a carbohydrate free haze of
Propel and Poe-
a strange mixture, I miss
my debonair alcohol, oh how lovely
those spring white blossoms were
before I woke up-wow,
the hangover.

The Ocean

The ocean was magnetic
that afternoon
soaking me with rain.

The ocean in a storm is almost
it looks like your eyes

Tossing and turning inside,
at dawn I would probably
put my hand on your shoulder

But the ocean has no limbs
it has no nerves to sense
touch or words

Yet the ocean knew my soul
and that day the sky cried
tears for me

My voice,
meant to scream into the waves
no longer knew itself

I had no anger left for those who
had hurt me
instead the ocean swallowed them

The ocean stole those bitter sounds,
and with them, myself
for a while, we were to become one,

....the ocean and I,
I would have gone away with the waves
and never returned.

Faking It

I'm looking in all the wrong places,
and if my bare feet
covered in blisters,
and my tired eyes meeting hopeless
submissiveness, under the warm touch
of bubbling red wine,
on a rainy spring evening
were not myself,
who was I? 
I did not have cute
assuming smiles for a narrow back,
and I could not provide
bright and carefree images,
for dark eyes
under yellow streetlights,
my feet were in heels, of course,
so how could I have
pretended that I didn't want more
than the fake gift of fate's appreciation?

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Passive Aggressive

You're just being passive aggressive again,
all over again cause I dared you
I dare
dare to do as you told me
I see as many "others" as a rap star
has nasty words for girls
and I might just have the capacity for
the kid with pink gums and
his foul mouth written on
arms of compensation
and insecurities,
oh come now,
let's not be jealous
let's not be
let's just, just let me,
pass you a sly grin and
a slip of paper folded like
pocket triangles, did you ever
even consider why
I chased down boys in
suit coats
with the illusion of decency?
make me wash my mouth out
no wait-
wait wait wait
wait-I'll bleach my throat
can't get any whiter than this I guess
I was up til 3am with my eyes burning
on the emptiness of coloration,
and the lack of pigmentation,
go ahead, make me wash my mouth out--again--
before I throw up
cause hearing all that dirt
makes me believe
one day I'll be forced to swallow
sleeping pills
with vodka
I mute him
mute every line I can
physically, mentally understand
lips against the wall of
pain and fear
stop your miniature coup
against the freedom you gave
me, you cut this leash so I cut his,
how can I breathe in your mind,
if you store this regret inside of it?
what do you see?
when your dark eyes dilate
and greet me at dawn,
I'd truly love to know how my soul looks
in that dusty little corner of your mind
when you remember me.

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

"Get Grown"

I know where you were coming from
sending off the kid,
with big dreams and big eyes
running around trying to sell out of
her precious heart just for cultural lies,
a little manufactured taste of fire
with you, the psychological flight risk
of adult proportions,

Oh, I know where you were coming from
I've been sending off the kid
with sterilized ambitions in his green eyes
and it's like running around in circles all night
in my bed alone, you know,
this one has been my sane comfort
for so long, five years is clearly
more painful than a mere moment with you,

I get where you were coming from,
when you put my heart through the tragic
"you're too young get dreams get grown"
now show me how to
put this boy through a heartbreak so
he doesn't fall asleep
with tear stains on his cheekbones and
whispers of his soul in my
aching chest?


Have you looked in a mirror lately?
you've been addictive since
fresh fifteen
cool eyed and quiet mouthed
soaking my words in
as if you weren't
flesh and bone
but a fog on the ocean
wrapping every thought
in chill grayness
even my ridiculous
strawberry milk words
don't scare your soul

have you looked in the mirror lately?
you've been addictive since
this afternoon
skin on fire, eighty-five
degrees Fahrenheit,
gasping for air like
resurfacing from the depths
better not make that
risky analogy,

But have you really not
looked in the mirror lately?
you'll be addictive forever
if I keep getting around you
doing stuff
like holding hands at
ice rinks and brushing fingertips
on summer walks and
Tchaikovsky with my
eyes closed
better not make that
risky analogy,

They'll figure out how much
I want your heart
beyond the gazes which
dance across your mind and body
so magnetic,
so irresistible.

Thursday, June 2, 2016


Endless chatter-
useless chatter-
and why did you need this?
you don't even know how it works
you refuse to learn!
And why did you do that?
your voice is loud, disruptive, rude
people are staring,
just freaking stop it
be thankful I didn't say worse,
or screech for you
to shut up
like your adult brother does,
I question my ability
to live with other human beings--
I'll never get married, if men
are like this
stubborn and clingy, simultaneously
claiming they don't need silly, prissy women--
is never something to write of
because it is never
curious, or unusual
it is not
idealized visions
of the unknown.