tisseranian, or that one time dan talked

my chest hurts
is it your lovin
or last nights smoke?

drinking warm champagne and weed
that went around and around and around and around and around
in a washing machine

sat on the surface of surf and turf sofas
where three chords is easier than two
but not as easy, dear, as you

family's up

my Grandfather, sitting
in his red and mustard velor track suit
head of the table
in the back of the kitchen
he tells me about skinny dipping in quincy
the black and white cars meant trouble
i thought about my skinny dipping
and how i knocked myself out
head hitting paddle boat paddle
not a right now story, i reckon

dine at ninety nine, party seven
three daughters, all mom hair
Dani, my blonde new bride texan cousin
has discovered my facebook
pictures of what I call getting an education
how are you and sean? she asks
he’s fine he’s fine, I say
building a racecar somewhere
oh she says i’m twenty i say

Papa: the only male, alpha wolf
discovers his third drink
the first spilling on his lap to heavy silence
by the third, loses three twentys to chronic generosity
helping him in the car seat
he whisper yells in my ear
don’t let this long thing happen again!
Denise, lady america fitness, first born
will tuck him in tonight
next to nonni’s nightgowns

if love exists, it hides in you

dammit
old habits
like comfort food
boys that aren’t rude
two beers
in the shower
means I have the power
to say cheers
for memories
of you and me
what we had
what we have
it’s not free
but it's not bad

memorial day isn’t for people that need to forget

with the homeless I sat
and named all the pigeons
but I had no adam
because my task
came after the fall

lazy sunday indeed

my face is melting off today
i know i’ve said that before
but on 3pm this morning
summer still with fontanel
i know truth

i can feel my foundation
and like silly putty on newspaper
it bends and warps the message
until it is nothing
and I start from the ground up
with a grassroots campaign
in consciousness

travelin'

hello again somerville
i missed your gutter punks
with soccer balls for pant seats

somerville, I get you between my toes
overbear me with your heat, noise, cultural clamour
suffocate me, forearms against my head
picking your grit from teeth
wiping your ash from feet
banging my suitcase
up your narrow staircase

somerville
i’m very small
wrap me
hide me
stick me in your hippest closet
or hang me out, dry
droplets of dye
runoff, run off.
flipping into the charles

scenic q town

ah, the formidable walk home
dead people in bed on the left
people driving on my right
mobile, presumably not dead
and looking at shayna's shortest skirt

too hot for cashmere
last night was too cold for just that
limited skins
in the baby blue suit case
gives me shivers

catching up

hate incarnate penetrating
whole days spent anticipating
writhing, cringing, lamenting tormenting

playing with the whitest fire
never knowing when I burn
leave marks in me, just you can see

mottephobia

moths fly everywhere
striking fear, such
unpredictable
flight patterns

needing nothing

kissing the skin
with wings for eyelashes

wanting more

transient caterpillar
that has a helped escape
remains weak, unable to break through
and expires in a cracked chrysalis

mayday

I'm chipped away
stripped
today
I start new

pink and vulnerable
two trim travel bags
baby blue butter leather
thats where my shit is

records, record player
stickered footlocker
costumes
books
on costumes
in a five by five
for forty

long long long
labyrinthian hallway
for forever
and at the end
the blue door of
memory, material

found poem: my kitten notebook

someone left a poem in my notebook
I think that's great

youre a kiss of sunshine
on my cheek
use the white light
regretting nothing
as my garden angel falls asleep
sadness waits at my door with you
silly creatures of death
in the light they glow
so brisk, before the moth falls
few know your beauty but me
as you waste oxygen, asphyxiating hope
the starving children have pot bellies too

I hope the hidden message in the first letters isn't for me :)

low visibility, high profile fun

a blind eye for three
leave me snake eyes to see
ah, hindsight perceive
steve; he spake sighs blue, free

FML

i'm not real
this isn't happening
i'm a white screen
to you, a black screen.

theres a bug bite on my ass

i’m back, rollin pizza dough
dad upstairs, swatting mosquitoes
bringing the heat, a promotional t-shirt
makes a flat, clean thwap and stains stairwells

N + 7

sorry, avid fans, I'm trying this out. with a paragraph from Miranda July's first book

enjoy.

ahem.

all my everyone
i have had the same hands
its what they call knees
it always unfolds to the same time

except for everyone,
the sex began as it always does
in a low ceilinged consequence
where couples is forced to crawl around
on their hands and beetles.

phonicks, don't phail me now

i misspell a lot of words
i mean, alot

did you know
unrequieted love
is saying quit
and not quiet?
quit, not quiet
lesson learned!

and tommorrow
is shorter than I thought
every single one i have

i'm not a vegetable, dammit

no longer a slave to the kiln
buy the whitest wonder known
with paper brown crust
and no teeth needed

carb up, zone out
stumble videos, forget yourself

who needs to dance
when theres lindy hopping
posted, pixelated
unfocus your eyes and let your limbs long

no need to sing
there is no stopping oum kalthoum
why try, there'll be no riots when i die
stone myself, is my phone by my laptop?
keep clicking, my song sounds silly

simplify, simplify living
to the lowest common denominator
when i feel neither low nor common
when I feel this fire, energy
radiating, leftovers from being alive
self awareness!
glorious byproduct!

unplug me, let me feel the grass in my toes
I want to get dirty, be messy, explode
going to let my body sing
going to give my voice some room

learning how to live
from the bottom of my feet
to flyaway friz
every dendrite connecting, electric

cinco de mayo

mexico, i remember you
do you remember me?
i remember maguie
and her yellow dress
the lollypop excess
in the folds of her cheeks congealing

mexico i kissed your neck
and you turned mine black
with little brass butterflies

mexico, i starved all week
plastic fruit on the window
inside, real carne, i don't

mexico, your tawed tough men
bartered bread then
out of matte cadillacs
raspy speakers crack
some beg with bags
that flaccid on wrists hang

mexico, make me sing
shake me shake me
make horns bleat
i die for your harmony
and three four heartbeat

mexico, wrap around my waist
hang the colored crepe
i'm yelling your name today
we're stomping out
the dust of our yesterdays

go shorty

I'm going to reach up
from the porous forest
and get taller. sail, ascend

past the peacock pleasures of pride
and sloppy, single sloths
apocalypse cocks
holy tounges
grasping rungs

herod, you decadent dandy
you fatass
you don't have shit on me

gilded gold wings, wants waning

perfect ascension
bag the dove on my way up
bang a divine u-turn

then I'll be
so high
unseen

pipe eulogy: bowlympia

My dear bowlympia --

you spoke to me before you smoked for me. this little head shop in olympia, place of your conception. I looked for twenty minutes, and nothing. so I listened - I stopped looking - and I heard you. you were perfectly made, shaped, and priced. cobalt glass with green and gold stripes. with specks of real gold. but nothing gold can stay.

my brother made this, said the head shop owner when he picked you up. youre kidding! I said. you were such a labor of love, and i loved you. you didn't even need a screen.

I'm sorry I left you at that party last night. I didn't mean to. it had nothing to do with that other glass I was carrying with me. it was just a one hit thing, it doesn't mean anything to me. I don't even know its name.

bowlympia, I'm truly sorry. when I took you out today, picked you up from that coffee table, and said to you, and to ryan, 'oh bowlympia I'll be so said if and when I lose you. dont you hate that? how everythings ephemeral?' these are the daily conversations I have that jynx me. I'm so sorry, I didn't even know it was a curse.

you met your demise on the fucking stairs of the campus center, you just leaped out of my bag, like a dog running into the street, not knowing how those linoleum stairs can hit you like a semi. You, perfect in every way and a precious treasure I brought back from the west coast, getting killed by my messy purse and the weed-unfriendly campus that you graced with your presence.

this is a wake up call. I need to straighten up and leave this place. thank you for having your final act be one that opened my eyes. thank you for everything. especially the resin.

I'ma see you in weed heaven.

it's 5 am

hot mess hot mess hot mess
like my greasy four thirty am biscuit sandwich

it was colder earlier
cause i was in a water spitting contest
which is cool cause I had beer poured on my bangs anyways
gave em texxxture

but everything washes away
then the birds sing
n' peck at those two temples