Monthly Archives: December 2013

Sunflower, I Think You Might Be Dead

Listen Photo



Because the water in your rattlesnake vase is hushed
Because I cannot hear your vermin taps across the kitchen floor
Because the word floret does not tempt me
Because I’m lifting the blinds
Because I’m lifting the blinds and peaking at you my Sepia Fleur—
My Sepia Fleur among the rubble on the winter soaked porch
Because I keep mistaking you for a honeycomb
Because I keep mistaking you for an abandoned wasp palace
Because for days I’ve been walking in circles inside this palace—
Death inside of my mouth, your voice a breath choking on wood pulp
Because I’ve been sleeping more and consulting the mirror less
Because it’s what I really fear, no, it’s what I really want
Because the sickly stick trees said you are.

First appeared in AEROGRAM

Random and Not So Random Salutations


Dear heebie-jeebies and plastic blue skies * Dear kidneys that were once the size of peanuts walnuts prunes * Dear questionable memory of getting my period my drivers license my first F in both math and science my first bag of weed and my first dye-job all at 3:37pm on a wednesday in 1982 * Dear blood test i wish i could study for and ace * Dear take a deep breath and live in the moment * Dear staring at a zit in the mirror for so long it turns into a lumpy red potato * Dear sacred consecrated hallowed revered divine and blessed sense of humor * Dear failing miserably at living in the moment * Dear spiky things on my kidneys that make them look like medicine balls * Dear favorite word slouch * Dear second favorite word numbskull * Dear listening to a recording of cheech and chong’s sister mary elephant when i was nine and laughing so hard i peed on my brother’s bed * Dear can’t change mostly everything * Dear hate to say it cause i don’t want to jinx it true love * Dear least favorite word incurable * Dear buddhism Dear optimism Dear catholicism Dear alcoholism Dear atheism Dear cynicism Dear precious precious sarcasm * Dear no matter what * Dear maybe just maybe.

First appeared in theNewerYork



slip your knuckles in, breathe
cinch your tendons
around the push-skin of my vertebrae
guide your fingertips
along the lost ridges of my ribs, indulge, splash
work your thumbs into my sacrum
white    then pink    then white again
imagine my wings; skin-wings of summer
swivel hips and hinges
let’s talk shop, curl, implode
release endorphins into the air
like doves
please, crack the tingle out of my arm
need me

First Appeared in Soundzine