Monday, March 27, 2023

last glimpse

the same tired veteran
passes, head down
bucket hat eternal
between his thoughts
& the suburban sun

the annual invasion of
wood borer bees, & me
gently redirecting their ire
at my deck sitting presence
with a brave hand

the hum of five different
mowers, a struggle to have
conforming lawns, grasses
of matching heights, edges
clean, flowerbeds decluttered

this is what I imagined of life
an unending drone, basking in
monotony, alone inside while
joggers passed & waved to the
appearances of peace

this is my last week here in this
happy neighborhood with its happy
joggers and happy lawn care &
(maybe not so happy) bees all
baking in the glow of safety

and I couldn't be happier

Friday, March 3, 2023

no space

there are walls here
in between the walls,
surfaces of silence 
deflecting silence

tangled wire has no
room to unravel so it
spools larger & presses
us down into furniture

it's all a mess & we 
pick up our feet wordlessly
without so much as 
existing

dance close to all these
edges to escape the telling,
that this civility has become 
exhausting

I have every right &
none at all to feel
any of this

Tuesday, February 7, 2023

firsts

my first hard liquor coincided 
with my first train trip, though
it all happened during the night,
as good adventures tend to do 

the windows of an empty
observation car mirrored only us,
me: scribbling in a backpocket journal,
her: drawing my anime portait 

a full year countdown to my
unexpected motherhood, but
what I seem to recall most vividly
were my sweet jeans with the 
reinforced knees

happy hour

"nothing matters,"
~feels nicer than~
"everything matters
& I've fucked it all up."

I lie there listening,
realizing I've mistaken
crumbs for banquets
all my life, swapping the 
causes & effects

nothing matters
is the the best 
scenario

new every day

each morning
I piece together this
collage of a human

pasting myself together
with songs, poems, films,
favorite food, drink,
interpretive dance

different highs

today, it's Yann's 
accordion, violin &
staccato toy pianos
as edge pieces with
bloody mary filler 

but tomorrow

tomorrow I may wake
into new skin &
Sam's Good Times
may be what soothes
my soul & if I'm pain free
I'll have a Cherry Coke

Sunday, January 8, 2023

pieces

my favorite part
of these stories
are the afterwords

mapping a smooth
landscape with
fingertips

archiving his
terrain for future 
distraction 

pulling fabric over 
my ridges, valleys,
fault lines of age

I shatter often,
mend between 
deaths

& fill in the cracks
left behind
with gold

Wednesday, December 28, 2022

say it

dishonest 
stranger

each response
my hesitancy
toes icy
water

a lie coerced
grabs hold of
teeth & tongue
to avoid its
birth

so
why don't you
ask for a
truth

& he does

in continuous
breath, what is
held sacred,
concealed

answers this
call & 
response,
a repeated
verse

grateful to
be found, 
if not
recognized

Friday, December 23, 2022

glint

art is simply the
attempt to explain
truth in the context 
of a lie

a beautiful form of
self-preservation where
one can create a 
replica

completely traceable 
but ultimately 
deniable

Friday, December 16, 2022

men

insanity that 
assumes,
infuriates yet 
consumes
is easily named
men

the impulse to
jump to my death 
when standing at 
the edge of
great heights

the fear I might,
for no reason,
drive my car off
a bridge on a
dark whim

is still less absurd
than this urge to 
fall & shatter
continuously on a 
loop for their
amusement

Sunday, December 11, 2022

12/10

such a simple
difference,
the memory of
lamplight 
brushing skin 

attaches an
extra layer to 
a film of which
I'd already been 
spellbound 

it's unfair
being a woman
in this

incapable 
(no)
unwilling to 
separate mind
from body

Friday, December 2, 2022

no beers, but tears for fears

In lieu of 
drinking

[it is after
midnight &

I have 
nothing &

(also)

I am waiting 
to be certain

that the world
isn't ending]

I made a
decision

at some 
point 

to just 
go ahead

allow the
flood

because 
dammit

I'll drown 
in anything

& if I can't 
tap out

I may as well
go all in. 

Sunday, November 27, 2022

indigestion

my poor bed is 
holding up so much 
weight tonight.

those swallowed 
maybes
slid down smooth, 
yet,

given an hour 
on my back,

sank hard to form
heavy nevers & 
there's no antacid to 
cure the heart burns.

I'm certain now that 
I've digested every
salty subconscious 
thought

devoured every bit of 
alcohol left in
this house
to fill the rest

but 

I still save room
for a scream
because

there's always
room for you, 
sweets. 

Tuesday, November 8, 2022

life right now

I just apologized
for simply existing
& this was actually
accepted.

Dude, I was being
dramatic, 
you're not supposed to 
just roll with it.

*

Twelve minutes until
my shift starts, 
I am staring at the 
front entrance
from my parked car.

I really feel how
easy it would be to just
quit at everything.

*

I just choked on the 
water that I drank to 
keep myself from 
choking.

This is what 
happens when 
I try to help 
myself.

*

I am watching the moon
fall into a red shadow
in a clear night. This must
hold some magic,

so I wished on the
eclipsing moon, two
shooting stars, &
apparently 
an airplane.

I believe in nothing
& everything
tonight. 

Saturday, October 29, 2022

torch

it's had time to burn
to flicker, aching
while bound & breaking
buried under silence

thriving on meager
crumbs of memory
surviving, though
hope misplaced

a smoldering glow
behind hidden tears
still holding space
through passing years

this flame ignited
folded in his arms &
keeps me warm in hopes
I find my way back

Wednesday, October 26, 2022

substitute synonym

I believe we appear 
jointly attractive
I thought your sneakers
were not vegan friendly

he's an ersatz man
implied height from his
platform shoes 
easy appearances 
are all convoluted
seems in his salad days 
but really quite wilted

he entered the world
with a disposable spork
in his face hole

(this is what happens when I can't sleep at 4am and get the great idea to rewrite song lyrics to say the exact same thing, only stupider...all because the word "ersatz" had been mysteriously clanging around in my head)

Saturday, October 22, 2022

getting through

Breathe. 
Drink water.
Stretch & move
(okay, stop moving
that hurt).

Rest.
Ice.
Compress.
Elevate.

Take a shower
Scrub, shave, condition.
Moisturize!
Deodorize!
Perfume &
apply war paint. 

Don't drink, 
don't smoke
(what do you do?)
Subtle withdrawal
symptoms follow,
(must drink
endless coffee).

Journal & reflect.
Dream & set goals.
Prioritize!
Visualize!
Check internal dialogue 
(it says
this is all
pointless).

Nam Myoho 
Renge Kyo, 
on a loop,
under breath
(so no one knows
you've been dabbling).

Guided meditation. 
Binaural delta waves.
Sleep hypnosis. 
Subliminal reprogramming.
Lofi hip hop?
Sleep!
Just fucking SLEEP! 

(sigh)

Trying is
exhausting.

Monday, October 17, 2022

here goes

started meds
today

hoping
they allow me
to experience

(oh)

any 
fucking 
thing

without this 
impulse
to vomit 
from my eyes

Tuesday, October 11, 2022

first thing

untangled
spit from sleep to 
blaring lightness
a blinding scream

unfolding
placing dreams
still rebellious 
back into cages

unwary
holding no caution
under my skin to the
notes of his song

unguarded
from dangle & pull,
I yawn echoes into the
safety of a morning

Sunday, September 11, 2022

diffusing a bomb

as I'm slamming doors &
cursing existence, I 
~grudgingly~
replay this thought of a 
wiser, calmer self, 
sighing in the back

"expectations are only
resentments 
waiting to happen."

(delivered in a 
condescending
sing-song)

I have no idea how or when
that sentiment burrowed in,
which inspirational garbage heap
this quote was salvaged from, yet 
here it is, regardless.

ahhh...

I'm still throwing things
but breathing, 
allowing the uncaring 
current of events to
carry me screaming 
toward certain failure

thank you,
Wiser Jenny,
you're so right!

just kick back, let go
of what you can't change
& allow the whims of
assholes to dictate the 
course of your life

just breathe...

relax...

(don't hurt anyone)

Tuesday, September 6, 2022

First Reformed

Ethan pours himself a death
& wraps himself in wire,
suffering to deflect his
desire (I think, there's really 
no difference)
but in the end, as in life,
love reigns over god

alright, but
I'll watch anything
starring Ethan Hawke.

it's taken me four nights
to get through this movie,
I pour out my death &
go to bed.

First Reformed
⭐⭐⭐½

Saturday, September 3, 2022

dreaming small

if I disappear just a bit
into a ready-made story
(not that I could, but if)

erase enough of me that 
they quit digging on
exposed nerves &
I could not be found

well, then
life would be grand

I'd drink my coffee
after dinner, curl into 
the night alone to
read & sleep without
dreaming big

rinse & repeat

this is me, but
we love our big ideas
of self, flickering,
burning projections,
stories cast with us,
words written for us

but what character, then,
am I?

the ill-fated mother of
every fairy tale heroine,
only a beloved memory

a naive orphan wandering
the forest, serenading 
woodland creatures

a dark sorceress,
terrifying, commanding,
bitter to the beauty of youth

the feral warrior princess
fighting for nature,
renouncing humanity 

a spectral grin
teasing from the trees, 
spouting mad misdirection 

or, just

peaceful & small, 
wanting only a smoke,
a bit of adventure &
~hopefully~
a second breakfast

Friday, August 26, 2022

the perfect recipe

have drunken deep thought
count syllables on fingers
boom, it's a haiku

🥳

Wednesday, August 17, 2022

jumping waves

another suit
slipped, zipped
fit smooth & tight
skin for skin
watching the
tide roll in

each wave greets
a new swimmer
familiar to the sea,
waters lap & slide
past her fresh & 
ephemeral hide

but if the swells
calm, slow, show
the diver there's
room to survive
nude & disarmed,
unbreaking, unharmed

she will shed her suit,
buoyed by trust, brave,
peel down & bare skin 
untouched & fair 'neath
slippery illusions that hide
a self she saves

(but she's still keeping
a skin for the next wave) 

Sunday, August 14, 2022

Alice (1988)

there's rain after Alice
washing away sawdust
of taxidermied rodents
& now there's a drum ritual
coming from the batting cages
have we fallen asleep
fallen asleep fallen
into her desk drawer
a memory of this film is
a memory of a dream is
a memory of a memory
and the raindrops trick our
arms into numbness, the ants
inside the sink are the last 
straw, I'm going to bed to
wake up & never watch this
movie again

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Definitely recommend 

Saturday, August 13, 2022

a poem without words (translated into words)

nothing feels more
honest than silence.

I could fill the space
with noise & static 

~but~

thoughts scale down
to insufficient when
squooshed
funneled 
tiny into 
words.

~however~

if I could construct a 
wordless poem

(only the raw material)

exude this 
passion & pain
through stillness

(rather than 
demoting them to
letters)

well...

no one could
fucking read it

obviously.

Sunday, July 31, 2022

i must be asleep

any time now
I'm going to
wake up &
tell everyone
I dreamt that
my cat just
gave birth to
George Jetson

Saturday, July 30, 2022

dissonance

if the sky were gray
this wouldn't all feel 
so wrong
but aching here in
the sunshine
lends an unbearable
dimension to emptiness
& lines it with guilt

Monday, July 18, 2022

tired: a song without music

I'm learning slowly
the cruel lies of time
losing intention & 
ignoring the signs
keeping hands up 
over my eyes
it's impressive 
how much pain my
ignorance buys

I write my maps of 
unresolved dreams
handmade grief & 
shifting extremes
keep turning this wheel 
of hope & ennui
until I'm so dulled
I don't care 
what I believe

adrift in the sea or
running aground
it's my own siren song
that lures me to drown
my heart pulls me in &
fear holds me down
I know how to swim but 
I'm so tired &
lost in the sound

Sunday, July 17, 2022

push

time's not forgiving
put down the crystal ball &
roll the fucking dice

Saturday, July 16, 2022

coffee

old friend, you may be
tearing my stomach up, but
I just can't quit you