Thursday, July 31, 2008

i told you

if sex was all
that was driving me,
i certainly had easier, and likely
better places to get it,
and people who would treat me
like a goddess
as well you know,
as well i know you
could easily find someone
our remaining revolves
around more than mere chemistry,
pheromones, hormonal polarization.
my hormones have
other places to be,
and other beds i'm
invited into - pity
i can't get you
out of my head -
your claws sunk
too far in to pry loose

Sunday, July 27, 2008


baby i want you
to hold my hands
they are cold.
they are waiting for you.
i want
you to tuck them into your pockets
and wait until i
melt into your heat.
come over here
i want to tell you
that you are beautiful.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008


the utter rage
that once had me fisting walls
so hard my
metacarpals cracked
is so frozen now
i can't
even find it

Tuesday, July 15, 2008


i think in order
to settle your spinning mind
i should close my lips over your mouth
so we cannot speak

Friday, July 11, 2008

drawn to complication

i don't know if you realize
how much i appreciate
your hanging around until two
although you tried to leave
by midnight -
i relish the seconds
i am not alone
in this house's walls,
sitting bolt-upright in my bed
with every creak, which is strange
as i raised myself in
the noisiest old house i know,
so i ought to be immune
to the sounds of timber resettling
on its foundations.
i want you to know
i'm not quite so immune
to you as i let on,
but don't quite know how
to bring it up
so i just smile into your eyes
when you are here
and hope you can hear
what my brain is screaming -
how long before you will recognize
the desire in your eyes, or mine?
i am so drawn
to complication - to the thrum
and beat of a racing heart,
the patter of skittish hands
that i wish you would use
to cover my trembling ones,
and hold them
until i can stand
to let go

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

in praise of mouthy women

i did try, briefly
to quieten myself
for you,
give you a touch of stability
on my constantly shifting ground.
"your" chapter
is the end of the piece,
no matter how i look at it -
that kind of fierce desire died
in the small piece of sunlight
i gave it
hoping it might grow,
in your looming shade.
so now i brush
the dried twigs with my fingertips
and palm the leaves and crumple
them into powder.
the wanting
until all i need
is my breath steaming in the air
on the streets,
good shoes for rambling
because my mind will not sleep,
enough alcohol
to make me smile - my needs
have simplified,
back to the days before you
when all i wanted was a pack
of cloves and enough coffee
to drown my slumber in,
since i don't like
the way it snatches,
a razor hidden in my wallet
for comfort rather than need,
for bleeding is a conscious act
of mutilation now,
not an excuse for escape,
but a little self-hatred
peering through the walls of the room
i lock it into,
music on my headphones
so i can rock myself
to apathetic staring
when i am the only one
in the room

Friday, July 4, 2008


i wish i knew how to say what
it is i'm feeling,
words only make it so far
before tumbling like dominoes,
leaving fallen soldiers in their wake.

i'm beginning to mistrust words
as they twist and reveal themselves:
not what i meant to say.
not what
you think it means.

i don't
even know what i feel anymore,
except an obsessive need to release everything,
and no way i know how.

i want it physical. i want more
than shifty words on a page,
want to be able to touch my rage
and mold it
into a display
i want tangible things
i want
to explode silently i want you
to see.
i want you to fucking
see that i cannot write this for you.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

it's not hard at work

the copier's pulse is steady
whirrr, ka-chunk. whirrr, ka-chunk.
the sound of plastic colliding,
numbing. i could be
thinking about anything now
but i am
as brainless as my copying assignment
my stare is intent:
watch pages
flutter through their assembly line.
no, i won't think.
i will not
remind myself of you.
i take
my job's monotony and apply it:
in the morning i count the stones
as i walk, studying texture.
i focus
on minutinae, sink into the
relief of routine until i forget
to remember
why my brain
is shutting off.