Monday, April 25, 2011


you're in the next room, I miss you
and think of secret thoughts
that I would have told you
except I forget them when i see you

we make love like teenagers
our hearts too young to know better
but old enough to know
we will never know anything better

I had a thought out loud
about how we would never raise our voices
you voiced the circumstance of a fire
and I said, no you have to promise

so we planned our escape route

Thursday, April 21, 2011

practically yesterday

my grandfather burned up in a house fire
when my dad was twenty four years old
we inherited ten thousand dollars
and a renovated house
so dad quit his job and mowed the lawn
every sunday
his vision of his father

my grandmother was a blonde and never died
a black box of ashes bears her name
and currently lives on my dresser top
beside a dog named skippy
and the portrait of her former self
my version of her
with an emphasis on her

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

blood line

the blood shed and held
by every survivor
is coursing through our veins

Friday, April 15, 2011

Lucid Dreaming

Yesterday I woke up half asleep
and couldn't shake the image
of my father
unnatural in his coffin
Somehow I knew his skin was cold
but couldn't seem to remember
reaching out and placing my hands
on his corpse
I thought this should feel disturbing
this should feel like a disease
this should be proof of something
But it was none of those things
And soon all I could think of was
the word, daughter

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

On/Off Switch

there is a current
that if you trip
it shuts out the lights

there are surges
that must be grounded
or they'll do the same

Monday, April 11, 2011


the whole picture is a rabbit hole
that works in progress
but i keep telling them
if they would just dig straight down
they'd get to the other side
in much better time

it's an awful good thing
that the machines
aren't digging it
because once a machine gets going
all you can do
is bend for it

one time
i told myself
i'm just going
to keep showing up
until everybody
knows me


sometimes people

are put in a position

of having to choose

between their own freedom

and the life of another

so we shut our eyes

while someone else

pulls the trigger

open your eyes

look at your hands

today we are free

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


it's all the same to me
the way we're different

in the middle of the night
we wake up
uncomfortable in our skin
in unmade beds

our flesh warm
beneath goose feathers
exposed to conditioned air
our limbs numb
wrapped around syndromes
lips repeating the name of love
oh god oh god oh god oh god

for some it is a battle cry
and for most
a cry
some sort of loss
but for me
and for you
it is a thank you
and someone whispers you're welcome

the bed disappears
our lips find each other
my fingers trace your spine
a piece of me dies

your fingers strike a chord
and love and fear become the same word