Sunday, November 30, 2008


i am inundated
with silence. blank pages
scream their accusations, beg
for a passion it seems i've
somehow buried, stifling myself
in order to tamp down the riot
in my mind.
bombed to resume peace
and order, and so i kick,
scuffing through the ash.
the rain has come, & i crunch
through yellow leaves each morning shrugging
my hood closer
to my face.
drops scatter against my glasses.
nothing moves early in
the morning but
cars slushing through the street,
the winds blow and
trees shake water into the air.
the early hours grow bitterly colder.

i pull on chilly layers
and stand pebbled
and plucked in front of my mirror,
relearning my face.
it is hollow-eyed
and rarely moves.
i leave in, and return to,
to a place where silence remains.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

for andre

what i want to do is call:
you have no idea how badly
i still want you, even
though it's been years.
i still
want to lie in bed with you
while you blow smoke out of
the cracked window, deliciously
naked, pressed thigh to thigh.

you say i would not recognize
your current condition, too skinny
and strung out on love
if that's true, i'm unrecognizeable too

you wouldn't know me either.
we both are different people now
than who we were,
had delirious sex after nights and nights
of touching.
now i don't bite off
my desire for you. it bubbles inside
i know
how badly i want it. it's
crossed my mind more than once
that you and i might have made it,
if we'd manage to live
in the same state
might have turned out differently,
in some alternate place
and all these foreshortened maybes
don't get me anything but
a bit regretful

i wish i'd stuck out that town
and seen where it would go,
you and i,
the misfit couple sent
straight from hell
and it's been
two, three years but now
i want you more than ever
i still
want to be pressed to your side,
thinking about old possibilities
and the ridiculousness
of figuring everything out
a bit too late.

Friday, November 28, 2008


i've slowly locked
myself away, through the years
behind layers of armor until
no one is left knocking
on the doors to get through.
i'm realizing
that no one's through - i
don't know a single person who
is past my bullshit,
my straight-on i-don't-care, not
family or blood
or girls whom with i shared my head
and i'm sick of it

sick of wanting to peel out
waiting for someone
to tap
on the knocker, look, ask
if you can use it
chip a little
at my layers of paint

am not invincible, just
put on a good show.
i wish you would know.
look at me,
ask me
what i'm made of, and maybe
this time i won't
throw up my persona,
i'd put it down,
a bridge of it, let you come
picnic at the edge
of it,
want to know.
ask me who i am
and maybe,
i'd tell you
the truth.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

and yes

i am disappointed/indifferent/crushed/stoic /lonely
i am not who you'd think i'd be, although your
face feels smug in its worry and i hug myself

Wednesday, November 26, 2008


blank, i feel:
canvas prepared
but abandoned, still white

i am letting the lack of color
it doesn't seem to matter
what the other hues could be.
me, renovated:
freshly prepared
for the next person i
won't let in,
stilled and repainted

enough paint will disguise
almost any flaw
the cracks become invisible
lines of glue begin
to smooth.
are harder to fix,
a little plaster
but give it
a thin layer.
soon the dent
will go unnoticed.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

get your hands off of me

you still touch.
drumming beats onto my knee,
pressing your thigh to mine
the oh-so-casual lean
against my shoulder as you listen
to me.
you bump my side as we walk.
i shy away
has become too much. when
you press against me
i move away
i want to
but will not
touch you.

but your easy reach for my body
has not disappeared
you hug tightly and
won't let go.
i cringe.
squeeze back, and run.
closeness is only pain.

you left, staring
through the windows on the train,
hands pressed against the glass
as you gazed at me.

i return your stare
but do not wave
i run
as soon as the train has passed.
i try
to forget the look
on your face.

Monday, November 24, 2008

whatever your dark desires

know this.

light piercing down
will flay them,
until the darkness
has washed away
and you will only be left with
the cold, naked,

Sunday, November 23, 2008

wish list

what i want
is something thick enough to do the job
not too long, but
not so short it can't
hit the back of me
don't care about the denomination,
paper, plastic, animated biped,
give me a hand[or two]
make me drift out, and then into
my body -
make me remember
what it's like to scream and sweat

one or the other, or both, of the sexes
as if there's enough change to
make a difference, as if
any person or thing could possibly
alter the thrumming solitude of
this bed
say rubber, or latex,
go for hard and indifferent,
so it
won't care when i don't
want to cuddle
don't want to let it settle in my bed
long enough to get comfortable
and stay

Saturday, November 22, 2008


look -
white snow speckled by flung
droplets of blood
the red fur of the fox
clamped into the trap, steel
teeth in its foot
to the bone.

and i, i am that pitiful animal,
duly gnawing
through my leg,

look -
i'd rather limp away
under my own power, bleeding
missing a limb
than be caught in your trap.

Friday, November 21, 2008


this winter seems suitable for saying
all those words that never
came out before:
i'm sorry,
i love you, i'm sorry for loving you
really fucking sorry.
winter devolving into a soggy mess,
as we all hide in our layers

who can even see us
underneath it all.
can really tell what we hide

Thursday, November 20, 2008


in the spaces we conscientiously place between us
unspoken longing lingers still.

do not believe in hope, so
say nothing.
you've heard it before.

what i do is disengage
a little more every time i see you
i wrench my body away
in degrees.

soon i'll be separately self-contained,
from acting as if
my desires
in any way
coincide with reality.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

to ash, to bone

i walked you home, you
asked me in. i
said, "i'd rather be set on fire,"
your face fell

but this is why: it's memories
that rage in my head
stepping foot into your warehouse
of them
would be akin
to setting plates of food
in front of my starving girl, saying,
touch, savor, smell
envelop, hold it
in your arms, snuggle close
but do not give in.
DO NOT want.
do not taste,
open your lips, do not
inhale and let your mouth water
do not want do not do not
do not cry
do not desire what
you cannot have

do not
pretend as if
none of this matters
to you.

i would rather be burned alive.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008


the fireworks, explosions
in the rain,
flashes of light
as the neighbors run by screaming
honking their car horns,
it's late
election night
i listen
and look forward
to picking up the paper
tomorrow morning,
finally see it
in ink,
blowing in
on the wind.