hny

i saw a lot that 4am

but nothing appears resolute

or sturdy. resolutions swayed

with the legs that carried them

high occupancy

head counts count in the hov lane

so don't give head in the hov lane

cleaned

there is something to a clean room

it can be cold or new or forced or empty

thereare clean walls of my drunk neighbor

who says his christmas is quiet

its a children's holiday anyways

and the clean floor and desk of friends

just visiting the room they grew up in

then fly home again

there's the dust free dwellings of people

that couldn't stand it otherwise

and the meticulously folded shirts of my great aunt

who had all the time in the world

my room is seldom as clean as tonight

but i breathe deep and see my life

as it should be, a framed piece

of sedimentary sediment

not sedentary laundry

cleaning

today i came to my soul searching 2 1/2 hours late, but my coffee and egg sandwich kept me there, i wouldn't help myself. tomorrow big armed convicts will detail my car, i will wash my clothes and feel infinate again. my soul will be cleaned with my things and i will sing songs with a windex squeak. i will coo over clean mats and swoon into soft smelling sheets.

pierced septum

greg had it

a septum piercing dangling there before the dip before his lips

a precocious reminder he wouldn't let anyone punch him in the face

another greg did it

he was just some guy to me, around harvard square

someone jim lived with, but they both got out of the shit, kicked habits

i asked greg, the first one

brand me, cut me, anything to leave a mark.we never got around to it

but one day in the shower, he carved into himself a beautiful oak

most lovers carve themselves into trees, not the other way around

but that was greg, and us

this greg, the last one

laid me down after he did it, fishing his needle through me like there was

something on the other side other than my left nostril. my face went white

he asked me if i was okay and i said i had a mixtape of his, for an erin in 1993

the scars were left unseen

nhxmas

maybe i'll get an accent

traveling next to a gps

eve

therein lies lies

in bells that chime

silent night! holy night!

sitting below them

on long wooden planks of childhood

they are whispering from flannel pillows

muffled low tones that put out candles with steady metal swings

sherrice is my age and she has a child

sean is my age and once when i sang the hymns i didn't know who they were to

oh holy flesh, but he lives with the organist now

and a happy festivus

a young dreaded man asked

would this hat make it to colorado and will it fit a girl with a big head?

you could put socks in it and most girls think they have big heads

i wouldn't trust her judgement

a young long haired man said

he likes art and i told him to say hi to greg for me please

he wrote it down and showed me his field guide to whale insults

it didn't stop my missing him

a young man i knew quite well

brought me a burrito in a plastic bag and tried on bellbottoms

and it took my mind of the men of my day, flinging fitting rooms

almost feeling the shopping season

ed

better my plaid was worn but the kiss was yours

holly wipes

don't look at me like that,

i'll write one

about being mowed down at the mall

no row, not now but there were enough angry people

for the boxing ring to seem less far away

or about slapping myself driving to stay awake

first a little pat then a stinging

i psych myself out so that i'm hitting me when i least expect it.

blizzard is heard

we warmed up all right
washing all the cold from toes
we were up all night
waiting for the snow to grow
wishing more for hot coca
waking up to eggs and toast
we saw brightness whitened
out our windows
blowing snow

last day of chanukah

he makes friends wherever he goes

so clear the dance floor for dancing with myself

at least it's not christmas shoes again

and at least lynne is here

and a really drunk liz that goes

"i'm goanna make a fire with my cordouroys"

then burns a pretty circle in jim's neck

arse poetica

at the bar, i tell them

i need to fart out this poem really quick

before i get too shitty

and after laughing and making raspberries

if they’re not too drunk they’ll ask why

and i say because today is today

and poetry happened

and if i’m not a dick

i’ll write it down

at the food court

it's all bullshit, you know

new england christmases

the covers of butter cookies tins are lying to you

they are cold, and even if you are a lucky fucker with a car

you still have to scrape off snow and wait for cold to grow

out of cyllinders

new england christmases

they are cold and mean and loud people yell at you

to slow down or go faster, no matter what you do

and whatever you do, it isn't enough

you're broke and you're only getting broker

buying wool socks or tires

and nothing at the mall says i love you

and you know it and you don't give a shit

jouissance, substance, gentlemen, when

I remember when I first saw cats. I was wrapped in a blanket, in awe of the airbrushed unitards. I remember the first time I smoked weed. I ate pumpkin cheesecake and was supposed to be getting supplies for my missionary trip. I remember my first kiss, it was under that same blanket and started with my nose

I remember when I had my beard for my stage makeup class, there were screams in the girls room. I remember the first time I drank beer. It tasted like my dad. I remember how I suggested starbucks, and you grimaced and took me to get “real coffee”, it became my favorite place.

I remember winning 300 tickets in an arcade crane game. I got a unicorn figurine and my two front teeth were missing. I remember the first time I dropped acid. I tasted purple and my head came very close to falling off. I remember being flattered and repulsed when a local white supremacist said he “liked the way I was built”

I remember when we had to change into our costumes for dance class, and I was the only one without a bra. I remember the first time I did salvia. I lit a microwave on fire and fell in love with a Brazilian musician, who became triangles. I remember how you tried to pick me up at work, but I really just wanted to get my sewing machine back from the shop.

I remember that art phase I went through where I cut off toy animal heads with a rotary saw and mounted them. I remember the first time I did coke. I talked really fast about tattoos and fell in love with the phrase “Barn’s burnt down. Now I can see the moon”. I remember when I ordered a multigrain bagel with butter because I missed you and almost cried at check out

I remember the first time I did pure mdma, it was at a spirit animal party I threw, and was on a lot of other things. I remember dreams where my teeth would fall out, picking at my gums until they stretched out onto the bathroom sink. I remember the day I had a pot full of boiling marijuana butter on the 87 bus (it smelled), then I broke my shoe and was locked out of my house.

I remember you helping me across the ice in the common. I think I loved you most then.

rest

i think

that thought

can wait

one naught

hoo

there's no such thing as bad breath

bollywood final

curry western

in a hurry

scrambling ramble

papers flurry

delighted writing

on the fly

eastern cowboys

lullaby

i'm trying not to yell

so it's like, i tell my mom
i can't have a car with a broken speedo
i look down, and no matter how hard i push
i'm not going anywhere.

my miles never grow, and i stay the same.
i'm idle on the highway anyway today
but i want to feel the bristle of bustle
progress you can't find on npr

so you can imagine my upset
when you know where i am
and i know where i am
and can't get to you in my stagnant distress

in the fridge

is your angel hair
golden a bowl?
is it getting cold?
does it save your soul?

are your deviled eggs
molding or old?
downhill with the rolls
or a sight to behold?

overlap

race track record playing it safe guard rail way ward in prison tattoo gun show down and out of luck be a lady gaga goo gone with the wind tunnel of love sick of your shit storm warning

salt assaulted

hey, i wouldn't worry about not being able to fill dive bars
like you did ten years ago, its time for prime college shoegaze to shine

if it makes you feel better, we can wear matching striped shirts
and strive to solve, imagine, create, or recreate crimes

just let's not crash the car on our drive to yell at burger kings
although i won't say no to go and get those dry free french fries

werd play

it's not
snot

sweat tears
sweaters

...

i got your man back
you got my back, man

stop it!

belly laughs ache and
they left us full

but it was a lovely night

i didn't mean to be me, a mean sordid sort without retort for what it means. to glean wet cheeks, to be sorry i can't be anything but in between, uncanny to have me but it's not what i seem or mean, for i love in a dream not your fantasy.

first snow

as scarlet o'hara cries by her life
we resort to older times
practicing most ancient rituals
with no petticoats assembled

i'm not

i'm not that in love with you
it's not like the things i do
attempt to accrue
a more beautiful truth
of one one from a two

it's not like i only see
your face in every body
black hairs and sweaters
are poison to me

i suppose if i want
i could read some kant
who conveys other ways
to see beauty

but i'm not so sure
there is a cure
to this feeling i get
like a wave on a shore
and i sure can't regret
what has come here before
when the waters stay wet
i can't help wanting more

i might

geting lost
in the static with your voice
or later
with your hair in the eyes

hallowed

hall, oh all, oh. haul all hollow walls