• If life is such a rare gift, why do I spend so much of it afraid?

    Pull over and
    lying there, dead,
    a vehicle designed to
    hurry now!

    Some sugar factory, honeybee,
    flower mother, servicing. 

    hawks circle
    a maze in the sky
    over the landscape,
    tear-filled eyes. 

    world that made me,
    flashing in sequence,
    feet running on pavement. 

    What if I wasn’t the one who got to live? 

    engine surfing, dark green
    between these walls
    feet slap
    alcohol blurs my vision
    out of water, floating higher. 

    ushered through a series of rooms
    in my mind while this body
    sits in the sun,
    wind chimes,
    birds chirp,
    a mash-up.

    Rejected and in the meantime
    pretending I’m frozen,
    foot stuck in feeling like
    judging
    a vicious loop of
    Practicing fear
    to practice fear.

    A sweet ending,
    slept on and looked over
    even or fair, easy for me.
    a pinecone in the sky
    white puffs thin blue
    crows with white shining
    fluorescence,
    eating babies,
    nature,
    my tv. 

    Dead on the side of the road.
    Driving too fast to slow down. 
    Everything is a lie. 

    fight the feeling to run! do something!
    Good dog.

    up to something good in my room
    high as could be on candlelit words
    flickering across the black and white
    tangled floors

    Unlock for me, all alone,
    no one to see the television
    tree that sprouts above the ceiling,
    the world, opening

    Nothing normal here.
    Too slow for thinking
    the tentacle of something hidden in the dark. 

    Sharing secrets 
    and willing 
    to whisper 
    or shout and scream, 
    I’m listening!

    Of course I want this.
    Of course I’m going to fall in love,
    again and again,
    I can’t help it. 

    Fluttery fear. 
    A chill at the back
    of my arms and
    pricks of sand across
    purple toes. 

    Frankenstein 

    an animal
    whose heart is beating
    before being
    put down. 

    Thick frog in your throat
    pound her in
    cock the barrel
    looking down at you
    mocking white teeth–shoot me. 

    I bared my soul
    now use it against me. 
    Nothing to do but cry. 
    hands and knees, 
    Looking up,
    yellow rays of light. 

    I am more than I seem.
    Like drawing a circle
    between the lines,
    perfectly round spectacle,
    viewing from your side. 

    A light is lit
    revealing wet sand,
    small crabs,
    the edge of the ocean
    breaking at your feet.

    time given
    to creating
    the correct image,
    memory.

    drawn by the people
    around me,
    telling me what
    they can about
    things. 

    Something beyond how I look,
    the things I’ve experienced,
    the outside world,
    universal but intrinsically,
    within me

    more than
    fitting in,
    can you see
    hands
    carry forward
    the insanity

    to conjure,
    not taken lightly,
    the universe performed in my mind,
    I’m not going to keep on forgetting. 

    wearing
    white spandex, blending
    a handstand
    and the floor,
    silently sniffing
    your neck
    before grabbing hold
     

    Today we make history.

    searing pain in your esophagus,
    the desire to be alone
    connections form around you. 

    Shame on you
    for staying
    and not listening to me. 

    And it turns
    and it burns
    and you want to die
    and you wonder
    will it get better?

    someone else’s eyes
    sink deeper,
    over the edge
    darkness whispers,
    kissing me on the neck,
    promising tasteless,
    beautiful nothing. 

    How out of boundaries can I get? 

    Running it seems
    from the people and events
    that made life possible,
    looking through a negative lens. 

    Like something is wrong
    with me
    and in my fear
    you are afraid too
    but there’s more to see. 

  • Many Things 

    The lamp is lit.
    The dog–come now.
    Efficient government,
    conspiracy to disregard
    Reality.

    Things I’ve been struggling with:
    afraid of the sharp,
    familiar and careful,
    Failures appearing
    full of Potential.

    I’m sharing with you–
    image &
    sensation,
    Burned holes and 
    Absence.
    Freeing, a dance with

    The heater,
    The candle,
    The incense,
    The dog.

    I’m scared–
    I’m strange–
    I love. I see.

  • Daily Exorcise

    I’m done smiling.
    Tired of trying.
    I’m tired of faking. 
    Always taking

    Bad directions.
    Spectacular trees,
    The sky and sea
    Keep lying to me.

    Sparkly gems 
    Stop pretending 
    it’s good luck get-ting
    bit-ten. Cursed

    feelings are
    Heavy and
    suffocating,
    stuck replaying– 

    Do you remember when?
    You followed me 
    to my room–Leaning in.
    I didn’t want to 

    Remember the 
    spanking
    hitting 
    screaming

    Whenever I’m crying–
    It’s bad,
    Wrong
    And insulting!

    Objectified and told– 
    How do I not hold on?
    To the pain of being ignored,
    Sleepless nights

    Given to me
    Sinking, give it to me
    Crying out stop, 
    But you won’t BELIEVE

    Until later on
    when What You’ve Done
    catches up with you
    For smiling at me.

  • x

    I wanna follow the sunset 
    A warm orange glow
    Sweet memories

    No goodbyes or endings
    just a constant 

    I love you

    I love you

    I love you

  • My Love

    Take me by the hand.
    Eyes adoring.
    Moving slowly,
    Please?
    Take me away from here.
    Again & again.
    Turn me from dying
    Into ignition.
    Oh
    No

  • Procrastinate

    Fall. September 22nd. 
    Stay in summer. 
    Cool off. 
    What’s wrong? 

    I’m not doing it, I’m scared. 

    The floor moves, always running and tripping. 
    Using my words. 
    If I can focus long enough on beauty instead of madness—
    forget the real world! 

    “Lizard” “Lizard” I’m no better. 
    What do you mean?

    Alone? 

    Fix it up, make it better,
    something that matters. 
    Maybe in December…

    Another day spent waiting for 
    perfect weather.

  • play with me

    running away
    flip, flop

    lost a shoe
    clip, clop

    coming for you,
    can’t stop

    hacked in two
    chip, chop

    red blood flew
    drip, drop—

    down,
    down,
    down,

    in the
    basement

    your

    pieces

    plop!

  • On Being Human

    Joy stained with sadness. Spreading. Searching in the mirror:
    Hello and goodbye, hello–echo–hello! Goodbye, goodbye.

    Internal guard. Distracting. Defensive. Avoiding what happened before…

    Faltering. A puddle. A wrinkle of sadness in everything, for in your noticing is its ending–begin and end, begin and end–what happens in between the beginning and ending? 

    Peace
    into pieces. Or out of?

    Glowing walls and silver light. Continual death and spring. Past carried forward, pasts of pasts, a knowing, a deep knowing. Pain and struggle and death. 

    Forgetting the peace. 
    Peace in chaos. 
    Again,
    Beginning and ending. 

    Life is–

    Not speaking to my dad. 
    Bullying my younger brother. 
    Hating my mom. 
    Lice infestation and a shaved head.
    Trying to fit in.
    Rape. 
    Uncovering and pulling, stripping, stripped, free me
    Dancing! Don’t stop dancing!
    My older brother moving out. 
    Arrested for stealing.
    Grammy’s final embrace. 
    Jammed fingers and water polo.  
    From California to New York.
    Endlessly more,

    Forgiveness, forgive me–I forgive you.
    You’re forgiven! Again and again, forgiven, will you forgive? 
    Dance and let go–take it all off!
    Float in a river, rinse your pain–cleansed! Continuously cleansed! 

    Trying and trying, try again. You’re not a quitter.
    Bad things happen. 
    Don’t forget there’s more!

    I’m sorry.
    I forgive you. 
    I love you. 

    That’s when the mirror beckons: will you remember 
    To stop running, and
    remember your strength.
    To let go, and

    Remember to celebrate.


  • Lying in a Bed of Ants

    I brought a large blanket and laid it out. I sat down and began thinking—about nothing in particular, nothing of interest. It was more of a noticing: green clouds of pond growth blooming to the surface, a swan bobbing for fish, trees, light green and white, shimmering in the wind, a blue sky. 

    There was a pain in my chest as I noticed these things. I was in pain over many things–about as many as I was seeing. Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t describe it properly. Usually, I’d push myself to land.

    But I don’t feel like it. 

    I lay back instead, making sure not to land on dirt, noticing how many ants were scurrying about—along blackberry vines, up skinny and winding twigs of trees, to somewhere. I saw a bird land on a tree above me. It appeared yellow, but it was the sun, glowing in a halo through the leaves, leaving the bird in shadow. I wondered what it would be like to fly around under a sky of leaves, or to travel on six legs, dodging thorns. 

    I sat up and stopped wondering because the pain in my chest returned. I was avoiding the thoughts that came up—knowing there was nothing to do. I began crying again. I didn’t rush or wish it away. It burned from within my chest, filling my throat, reaching for my eyes, and falling in tears down my cheeks. 

    I was like this for a while. 

    Music played while the swan kept bobbing and the wind shimmered budding leaves. 

    Nestling into the nook of dirt on the pond bank, I wondered if I should listen to something new or head back to make lunch. 

    More time passed, then it was time to go. But before rising, I put my hand to my chest and took a breath. The pain wasn’t as hot or precise—it had softened into warmth. Exhausted, I stood.

    I climbed past the large pine, through tall grass and short, red-leafed oak saplings, back onto the road where the sun bathed me in welcome. My shoes were a blinding white. There were small black dots scurrying in frantic circles until my eyes focused—my shoes were covered in ants. 

    I felt the urge to…do what? What do you do when your shoes are covered in biting ants?

    I stomped my feet and shook out my blanket. 

    I did it again. 

    And once more. 

    The ants, at least, appeared to be gone.

  • Already Full

    The cup spills over from beneath the spigot. 
    Moments spent receiving, 
    while I keep track. 

    Waiting for something to happen.

    Buying time. 
    Pretending to pretend,
    I know what I’m doing. 

    The cup remains, overflowing. 

    Receiving, figuring—just give me a moment. 
    Something comes next…
    But, wouldn’t I rather not? 

    Shaking,

    I remove the glass from
    the endless outpouring and
    put it to my lips.

    Turns out, I’m thirsty as hell.