a love between two people

when you press two thumbs

between my ribs

you pave

the way

for a river.

blessed irrigation.

we can feed families our love

found poems from october

the girl who read the white peony leaves (in solitude)

wiped the counter (to be noticed)

she wanted to be seen by a boy

who would only come into her tea shop once

and she would be sick that day.

she knew this by looking into

the bottom of her cup.

still. it helps to seduce the pyrex

in a way that says

i'm in control of my destiny

***

and the boy sat in his prefabricated predestined dorm room

surfing open source pornographic video sites

looking for a girl he had only seen in his dreams.

he was twelve. so moved by

the woman he loved before knowing

if she was conceived in this century or the next or never

that he drew a picture of her

it was a crude but technically accurate depiction

down to her flat matted blonde hairs.

unmoved by the offerings of the world wide web

he gingerly unfolded his muse again and relieved himself.

***

in the late afternoon

when the sun

hit the counter

in a way

that lit up her smile

and electrified

little baby blonde hairs

crowning her face

escaping the dread locks

she would confuse

the leaky steam wand

for a squeaky door

this is how

she wanted him

to find her

***

she wiped dust off the teacups

with a white fresh rag

and thought about her shop.

it was tuesday at ten.

most students were in class

most god fearing houusewives were at the

fundamentals for fundamentalists knitting circles.

the ones that did not fear god had the luxury

of idling on the sofa, uncaffienated,

the men were at work.

***

have you seen my dream girl?

she goes to the college i was too scared to leave home for.

she works at the tea shop there, and reads

leaves at the bar when shes drank enough.

she is too good at it, so she never likes to read sober.

she sees my face in the dredges of white peony

and smiles sadly, knowing

that inaction is the folly of man.

***

have you seen my dream girl?

she lives in a city that holds

my stillborn successes to her skyscraper chest.

she works in a place i can't afford but know i should

i'm sure she works there

she smells like honey and rain and dry earth

rubbing between her finger

i'm sure her shoulder blades point

to the highest stars in the heaven

and fly past penthouses.

have you seen my dream girl?

she saves my life in a mini mall

full of tall grass

by regurgitating orange julius

into my mouth. right before i wake up.

i wake up and shes gone

i don't have a number to receive desperate texts

or solid material for a missed connection

please tell me if you've seen her

she's light on her feet but sure in her step

there can't be many people like that left.

she puts her arches to the ground

as a descendant of salome, lifting her step.

so light on her feet

is the girl of my dreams, that she leaps over

begrudging push carts and undeserving oak leaves

on her way to work. she performs her tasks

with beauty and duty and grace

and never even misses me

love er bust

when hitchhiking across mattresses

jumping from sealy to sleepys

memory foam. box spring.

my feet never touch the ground

my face falls to earth when i wake up

and see sleep lines have spelt

out your name. panicing

i look out. horizion lines bleed

a pale orange blue and you

are not there.

i survived

this hurricane

was horrible

everyone tweeted

about the treats

they were making

without me

i have a sick slick stick stickley couldn't give a dick and if you wanna rick rick lime rickey goanna get with me play some fuckin frisbee bettah fuckin quiz me what it be im a nerd see see or don't see me.

panties

the most permanent mark you left

are the bleach marks on my panties

a curiosity created

by your order of operations

for hydrogen peroxide

and oral sex.

it took me a while to discover

that i wasn't cloroxing my laundry

in freakishly consistent locations.

and i wasn't excreting acid.

what i'm trying to say is.

there was no big mystery

this year. about why my

most hidden spots.

look so washed out.

dingdong

sorry to bother you.

did i catch you at a bad time?

should i come back later?

i hate to inconvenience you.

i know this is a difficult period.

i just thought. well maybe.

we could love each other

and you could make my pores open

and they could talk to your pores

they would breath and laugh everywhere

sustaining the Other

bodies singing with touch

tasting the infinite cosmic calm

...nonono it's cool.

no worries.

i'll just...yeah.

see ya.

12345678

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

please

sex for one please!

i am anti midas

turns out everything i touch

turns to shit

but a least

i'm a chronic masturbator

and a fecalpheliac

so i don't really need

to bother anybody

night 4

the tattoo ink was a nice cover up

and dripped down my side as he

fumbled through his belt in a hush

he poured the tattoo ink and said

hey. do a good job at making this

more meaningful than it is.

as usual, the tattoo ink gave a half smile

and scoffed. whatever man, he says

just don't drag me into this fucking mess

you're the fucking mess! i hate whispered

but the words were slurred and thick

and i know

the tattoo ink will never take you seriously

with tears in your eyes.

so i lowered them. and ran my fingers

through the warm, wet, black puddles.

or diet dr pepper

sweet and low

gets a bad rep

because everything

is a shitty substitution

sugar substitutes whole foods

that make a steady pep pep pep

sugar substitutes substitute sugar

we get a rush and forget about fiber.

fuck complex carbs. this is america.

he is coke zero. roller coaster tycoon.

he is 21 y/o single wants to live chat NOW

he is rubber corks, digimon, decaf skim

sugar free vanilla iced latte just drink a water

you fucking BITCH.

you are the bread water base jump

real live butterflies, not pinned in a box

you are the ginger ale my mom stirred

all the bubbles out of when i was sick.

you are the grass i grab and pull, sitting

outside in the sun. you are not from concentrate.

picked fresh daily, vanilla extract extracted from vanilla

and in actual, actual reality

i like that about you.

but i'm still drinking diet coke.

to the girl with the baby blue luggage

oh darling, you look tired

have you been traveling long?

you have the look

the corners of your eyes

wrinkle and shine

your toes want to leave

baby powder on carpets

your things are folded neatly

everything in its place

although you are so transient

please consider my offer

of perching you

on your stack of luggage

i can sing to you

and it will be so sweet and safe

and you may even find me

a small place as a guest

in that big empty room

before you unzip your files

and decompress

we can scream and sing

and the noise will

bounce back to us

in your hollow home

wrapping around four ears

like a bandage, holding it in

and everything

everything will be fine

oscar has liberated

when i have children i will tell them

i never got to test drive my motor scooter

and that, a man with a lotus on his neck

well, he died. and i wanted to ride his memory

but the day it came i was not happy.

I MADE A MISTAKE. I DO NOT KNOW

HOW TO RIDE SCOOTERS.

I HAVE NEVER KNOWN THIS

TO BE TRUE ABOUT MYSELF.

I WILL SHAKE AND SHAKE

AND CRASH AND CRASH

AND DIE AND DIE

the thing i so badly wanted will

be my folly and i will crash and burn

like the lotus man. like everyone else.

that, my sweet child, was the summer

where i discovered if you want something,

it is best to try and get it. you can stretch

out the dangerous what-ifs into a blanket

and roll yourself up in an air conditioned room

where everything is nice. familiar. a comfort.

but you will never fall in love with the wind in your hair.

screaming at the black yellow curves:

I HAVE LOVED YOU

AND I WILL LOVE

WHO YOU HAVE MADE ME.

the never we

you never had the will to wonder

what i looked like with a scarf on

and how this hey girl hibernates

see me in gossamer cotton please

going up the stairs on my knees

begging and beautiful, a memory

keep it between your teeth, and

spitting out songs just think of

the never we and not planning

down and down

there was a place you used to call home

but that, that's all over now

and i liken the feeling

to screaming tea kettles

and sleeves hanging over the dawn

there was a life we used to call ours

and we raced in great lanes

roman chariot cars

but our town was a circle

and all of the hurdles

were games that they trained

to be playing along

long weekend

lengthening my hours

is the greatest talent of your absence

miles away, you lay my life over your knee

and with greatest care

your flat steady fingers

smooth out the wrinkles

until days wrap around hills

and minutes are mountains

sry

you

don't get it

and you can't get it

because you just don't get

it. you've never had it, which

leads me to believe you never will.

perhaps you believe you are on the cusp

the breaking point, about to spill out with love

and understanding. well let me be the first to gently,

painfully, and with great regret tell you that you are wrong

real or imagined, the blockades before you will steadfastly prevail

wait!

every room is a waiting room

i move freely, place to place

never with any prospect, progress

i hold my teeth in my hands

they are defaulted, smiling

it's not news, it's not you

perhaps a message, a...

all i care to know

frozen indecisive exile

is what i am waiting for