Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Jesus Lives in Little Rock, AR

If Jesus were as he was so long ago
He'd be drinking wine
Probably a little more than he should
We would hang out on Tuesdays
Thursdays and Fridays
He would dress for the weather
and keep a spare shirt
and extra pair of shoes
in his back pack
He would think me and my friends were sweet
but would excuse himself
when the conversation turned dark
Pulling me aside later
to tell me
Not everything that makes us laugh
is funny
I would text him late in the night
and ask him to come keep me company
He would respond eventually
Kara Marie Bibb, go to sleep

If Jesus lived in Little Rock Arkansas
He'd be on cloud nine
Probably humbled by the attention
Thankful for any Tuesday
Thankful for today
He would be dressed to the nines
wearing his best shirt
and a new pair of shoes
from his mother
He would say grace and we all would blush
at the dinner table
(he said a little prayer for me)
Putting us all in our place
Not reminding us of our past
or folly
I would be so in love with him
and would worry about his broken heart
He would reassure me he was fine
And I would cry myself to sleep

All the World's a Day

Some mornings
or late in the night
the panic sets in
I feel like an actor
who's memorized their lines
then everyone on stage
starts improvising
And I can't stop the play
and scream
"That's not what you're supposed to say."
So I push the panic away
and listen intentsely
to new cues and patterns
Tear myself away from the script
tear myself from the audience
until I know it's my turn
and throw myself into the performance

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

12 Poems

The bakery never sleeps and we are awake

Our laughter is contagious and smiles are free

How did no one realize that this was happening

Or why are we too dim to know that we all knew

Love is a melody that is singing for you

We are meant to fit into the song of a man

We are born to live in the gaze of a woman

We do it like this all year long and suddenly

The end of the year and the Holidays arrive

The line is intimidating but it's worth it

The bakery is awake and we never sleep

Sharing our secrets, wearing our hearts on our sleeves 

Monday, December 10, 2012

Story of a Pretty Girl: Part II

In the coffee shop

she peeled the blue polish

from her fingernails

and listened to Elvis

Three times she went outside

to smoke cigarettes

Last night she approached a complete stranger

and asked him if he remembered her

He politely dismissed her

and she laughed

and drove herself home


Monday, November 12, 2012


I was wearing my father’s sweatshirt
the one his father wore
I pulled it on
I pulled it off
You were sitting with me on some stoop
and I was reciting some speech
about how you should have shown up sooner
You didn't argue
You apologized
and agreed to never be late again
Later when I was alone
I pulled out my yellow sweatshirt
the one with the stains and the stencils
of the boy with his hands in his pockets
and the two hearts hanging overhead
I have been wearing it ever since
my thumbs tucked into the tears of its cuffs

Sunday, November 11, 2012


she leaned the final frame against the wall
stepped back to admire what they had done

this here
that there

her hung pictures were hiding wounds
some with several small points of entry

long nails
short screws

the rug protected swept things
held in place by bare feet and legs


the coffee table built of milk crates and glue
rested in between things she could not live without

blue chairs

her mirrors caught the light at different angles
so she lit her lamps and saw herself in every way

in them
in him

she wondered where the leaning thing would go
lifted it with two hands and carried it to the bedroom

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

America was Bright

America was bright
and abroad was beautiful
    older than we could ever be

Democracy was true
    men fought for freedoms
that their fathers only dreamed of

Neighbors were family
who gathered and celebrated
the marriage of sons and daughters

Death was a tradition
         no one understood
         so we all banded together

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Forks and Spoons and Knives

Forks and spoons and knives
swiftly folded into linens that hold my attention
I hope you polish away those water spots
I hope you talk to the dishwasher like love is not lost
and admire his likeness to godliness
 I hope this will drive you crazy in that way that will make you crazy


Wednesday, October 10, 2012


I feel certain
The world is a blanket
A soft heap to fall into

I feel more certain
The earth is a blanket
A soft heap to lay down on.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Loose-Kneed Neurotics

Starry sky when the moon is out
You kissed me tonight, I mean I kissed you
Knocked-kneed lovers
mouths closed with a wednesday smile
Maybe if we never open our mouths again
we'll last forever

October appears, hot then cold
We strip off our clothes, trade our tanks for coats
Loose-lipped lovers
thursday gods throwing thunder bolts
I know you do not need me, I mean I need you
you and tomorrow

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Kissing My Elbows

With you sitting in my lap, watching my fingers speak sentences
Staring up into my eyes, I wonder what you see
You pose for me and I think you are beautiful
We sleep all day, you wedged in every new space my body bends
I tell you I love you and you purr and breathe heavy
Kissing my elbows and fingertips
I make a space for you and you destroy my game of solitaire
So I kiss you and your whiskers tickle my cheek
You investigate my room with curiousity and disregard
Making toys of my slips
Or you wait by my feet, content to be near me
and I to you

Saturday, September 15, 2012


Jealousy and Opposition introduce themselves on a street corner
Jealousy says, “I want to be you.”
Opposition replies “I think it is wrong that you aren't me.”

Sounds like the same song when the taxi drives by

Opposition notices the darkness that surrounds the Vacant
Opposition is the first to ask more,
“So what do you think? Am I right or are you wrong?”

Jealousy always has the same reply,
“Just seems to me that you always have more…”

Another taxi drives by
then another


Opposition curses the brightness that surrounds the Vacant
Opposition is appalled,
"Why won't they stop for me?"

Jealousy is as green as the other side but sensitive
"Because fare is fair."

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Little Girl

I took off my panties and threw them into the corner

the panties I had since high school

the trash can was a recent purchase

My patio was hot that summer and I was wearing a strapless dress

My inner thighs were sweating, touching each other

A universe of boys whose names began with letters of the alphabet

and a universe of girls who answered to Kara Bibb

were sitting with me and I couldn't sit still

So I stripped myself of the thing that was nearest to me

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Laugh Lines

Gathering around our mouths and eyelids

curiousity etched lines into our foreheads

Quiet gestures of affection

Friday, August 31, 2012


We dusted the mantel and the mantel pieces
   swept the floor and threw out the casualties
I replaced the water and put a flower in every vase
each a new jewel set against our adornments
Your face was spectacular
the picture of ridges subtlety muses
Something as old as the earth and greater than its surface
   came to mind and we sat with each other

      dust dinosaurs and Saturn in our living room
the kitchen held us
two beasts hacking away at onions celery carrots
we spoke plainly
mouths opening closing
against fingertips collecting cherry pits
Curiousity etching lines into our foreheads
   quiet gestures of affection

Wednesday, August 29, 2012


our kitchen held us
two beasts hacking away at onions celery and carrots
we spoke plainly
mouths opening and closing against fingertips collecting cherry pits

Monday, August 27, 2012


We dusted the mantel and the mantel pieces

before we swept the floors and threw out the casualties

I replaced the water and put a flower or more in every vase

   each a new jewel set against our adornments

Your face was spectacular

    the picture of ridges, subtlety, and muses

Something as old as the earth and greater than its surface 

came to mind and we sat with each other

dust, dinosaurs, and Saturn in our living room


Friday, August 24, 2012

For Crying Outloud

For always being right
      being wrong
For crying outloud
      deaf ears and future grace
For excusing the inexcusable
      feeling like the smallest person in the whole wide world
For giving yourself away
      holding hands
For injustice and ignorance
      juries and teachers
For kinetic energy, movers, and shakers
      learning a new  language
For making the most of it
      never having anything to do with it
For obedience and chaos
      quiet time and perpetual motion in no particular order
For pride
      right and wrong
For solemnly swearing something
      truly thinking that's that
For universal truths
      validity. human spirit, days of the week, chores, randomness, love
For whatever it is that requires a signature 
For your wildest imagination
     Zero is a very exponential number

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Navigation or Links


Justice or Just Is

Sweet & Able



Monday, July 30, 2012

Tobacco Farmer lyrics

Tobacco Farmer

if i were a tobacco farmer
i would smoke
while i tilled
and drink
bartered beer
i harvest

you ain't missing anything
i reserved
just for me

everybody thinks i want you

i don't know who picked your shirt
but your mama's good lookin'
and your pay is dirt
and then
everybody thinks i want them

i just want you to think
everything little thing that you're doing
is just for me

everybody knows I want you

behind the bar
i stood with you
you were smoking camels
i was smoking blue
and now
now i'm smoking you
when i go
and hit the road
it's gonna be the things
that i told ya
that i think you should know

everybody knows I want them

if i were a tobacco farmer
i would smoke
while i tilled
and drink
bartered beer
while i harvest

you ain't missing anything
i reserved
just for me

everybody knows i want you

MeaningfulNess Monster

It shifted
back into place
with a quick tug of an experienced hand
like a shoulder blade, night caps
and fingers that are orchestrated by a heart string

The Idle Class


Monday, July 16, 2012

Big Cloud in a Crowded City

almost rain is as good as rain
when the earth's so hot that the sun stares back
and says
if you're trying to feel something
try to feel me

almost gone is as good as gone
when the bottle's empty but your glass is full
and the music says
if you're trying to hear something
try to hear me

almost there is as good as there
when the line's so thin that we couldn't see
the line disappear
if you're trying to call someone
try to call me

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Don't Get Me Wrong

Don't get me wrong
I've been writing this all night
Don't get me wrong
I've been like this my whole life

In the morning hours
I'm sleeping or I'm awake
Every breathing hour
We're sleeping or we're awake

And for simplicity's sake
my uniform is denim, tee shirt, and pun
We win
because we're already one

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

The Night Before

The day before was a revival
Yes or no
Believers and spirits
and the tortured eyes fallen in between
We sang for you, we sang for me

The night before was a battleground
Tooth and nail
Survivors and martyrs
and those who protected the old and young
but we all fought and we all won

The moment before was a silence
Heart and soul
Lullabies and sonnets
filled the empty night and choirs were formed
finally I stood motionless

watching the bullets pass by
each one closer than the next
I wondered if one could kill a man

and the moment passed

Some watched the sun rise against the dark
Night to day
Philosophers and artists
and the enjoyment of recognition
tiny heartbeats, small fists, and drums

Today we are free

Friday, June 29, 2012

Justice or Just Is

I urge you to look up the word "apathy"
  Enter into your vocabulary
the expression
"That could be me"

My father's skin was whiter than my mother's
 Unlike her brother's
my family does not speak Spanish
 We speak Southern

Her eyes are dark brown and her smile is the universe
 Betraying that grin of hers
gravity is bringing everything down
 She stays high as the birds

I was sitting in the sun when I remembered I was her daughter
 It was time to go but I sat there  longer
un momento mas
I wondered if she'd ever been sun-burned

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

My Dad and My Legacy

you remind me of my old Subaru
you both died on the side of the road
half way between where you were aimed to go
and where you were going to

i guess i was wrong about the both of you
because I  thought you'd walk me down the aisle
and i didn't think that station wagon was on its last mile
but it abandoned me and i had to bury you

Monday, May 21, 2012

He Is Perfect For Me

I barely remembered what I thought about
as I bought my cigarettes
       I smile a lot

Earlier this month there were roman candles
this afternoon we were roman candles
       Today we were a lot

When we  agreed we preferred vinegar in our coleslaw
and sour cream over mayonnaise
       in our potato salad

We were buying spare ribs and vying for each other
 We were perfect for each other
       He is perfect for me


Sunday, May 20, 2012


 the barded lady and the only man

are peculiar and well-versed in the bizarre

Ladies and Gentlemen

is an overly generous use of plural

Reactions vs. Retractions

blank stares


blank pages

Tuesday, May 15, 2012


a helicopter
spinning in the sky and wondering
How will I ever come down
something so big that everything else becomes
almost untraceable

Friday, May 4, 2012

Wendy and the Suspension of Time and Space

She was a pretty cause.
He was a lost boy.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012


strum strum
strum strum
(Everywhere I went
Led me to you)
strum strum
strum strum tap

Everyone I knew
I introduced to you

strum strum
strum strum

Hanging in the balance
We washed our sheets
I made that tiny guitar
Let my fingers bleed

strum strum
strum strum

strum strum
strum strum

I've never slept better


Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Love is not Lost

Love is a forbidden treasure
drawn by children in candy stores

Lost is the map to get there

Broken Into

Break, break, break all you damned hearts

Sunday, April 15, 2012


That time I burned the top of my foot with boiling water
wasn't nearly as painful as the year that led up to my wrist tattoo

They both hurt like hell

One was an accident, the other
a temporary lapse in good judgement

Both are scars and both are permanent

that smell like rain and feel like a stumped toe

Familiar, brand new, and already bruised
I hope I never get burned again

Friday, March 30, 2012


I think a billion is an unreasonable number.
I mean,
when do you ever need a billion
to figure
any one thing out?

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

There Will Be Flowers: The Reading

A Boy and a Girl

There’s a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve
She’s above the law
when she laughs just so at some secret thought
about a boy out there who glows in the dark
He says, “Go as you please.”
So the girl, she just smiles
Happiness stretched across her face

My Tree

My roots
Grow carefully past stone
Through the core of the world
They reach to the other side of me

My trunk
My own
Stands gracefully, a home
Under the moon and the sun
Grateful for a shower or the promise
of one

My branches
They bend
Sway sweetly in the wind
Moving in every direction but down
To the sky they reach, ever further from the ground

All that I am are the three of these
I care not for my flowers, my sap, or my leaves
Though pretty and sweet and colorful
They are fleeting and nothing more
My roots, my trunk, my branches: My Tree

(The bird that perches there when she's not flying free)

Come sit on my bough
Come swing on my swing
You can live in my house
Your axe you may bring

Swing your axe all around
My tree will not be brought down
Swing your axe all around
My tree will not be brought down

When your strength has left you
When you've grown tired from the fight
You can rest up against me
Take leave of the night

When again you feel better
When you’re strong enough to see
You can sit down beside me
Take a moment to weep

Take as long as you need
Take as long as you need
Now bury your axe
Take as long as you need

Bury your axe
Bury your hate
Bury your habit
Bury your gait
Bury your skin
Bury your face
Bury your past
Bury your race
Bury your want
Bury your greed
Bury your doubt
Bury your heed

Deep down in the dirt leave all of these things
Wait out the winter, look toward the spring
Don't waste the summer in dread of the fall
Grow a tree of your own, a tree for us all

The Only Thing Standing Between Us Is My Passenger Side Door

I cried when I walked into my mother's house
I remembered my old apartment in downtown Little Rock
and knew it would never be as fine as it is on Friday night
I cried and said out loud,

"Why do I have to be crazy?"

I thought my bathing suit from Paris might make me feel better
So I put it on and sunbathed on the front porch
And I thought about you and how you told me you loved me
I smiled when I read it,

"Awe loves you."

I let myself be my kind of crazy unrelentingly
Counting Crows kept me company
Convincing me I was most certainly the queen
I pretended you could hear my thoughts,

"Are you the rain king?"

And out of the clear blue sky it started to rain
Suddenly I didn't feel crazy
Except for you
And you said,

"Slow it down. Take it easy baby."

Because I didn't know what that meant I slept for fifteen hours
And read all of our words over and over
Wishing I could edit the past
Because if I could I would have left it at,

"Awe loves you too."


(Formerly Draw Me in the Key of Andy Warhol)

Your body
Designed with a purpose
Movements confessing instincts
You are alert but unaware
Unable to know beauty
So you come undone

Awakened by a sense of self
You search for purpose
A reactionary traveler
Always in step
Without regard
And the grass dies beneath your feet

Suddenly you hurt for the grass
Instead of yourself
You feel your own weight
Pressing upon the world
The world pressing upon you
And you change


How soft I must seem
When my off-white skin is mistaken
for a bruised canvas
a reflection of misguided passions from the night before
a night
a bruise
a softness
I cannot remember

But I cannot wear this skin
the way your mind sees it

Maybe I seemed cold
when I casually spoke of death
and ignored the face of pain
I avoided lonely hearts
And I regret that

But we are attached to a dying sun
Rising and falling in a sky so far away

We cannot mistake death
for a reason not to live

Now, words turn into lyrics
and music replaces a lone thought
and makes melodies
of sincere accidental progressions
Or your calculated decrescendos

The choir is singing our song

We are the only witness

Suicide Doctrine

I killed myself once
and can remember six hundred and fourteen bathrooms
counting the ones in my dreams
I have no idea what I look like
and often prefer the company of strangers

I recreate myself as often as I forget who I am
and try to go to places I have never been
I speak as though I have an audience
and believe suicide is melancholy
I abhor melancholy


Every woman has a past
Every child has a future
Stay the course
Vote for change
Love Always
Forgive Often

I’m thinking about it
Catching up with old habits
Riding off into the sunset
I can’t remember things I once knew
Suddenly they are not hidden in the same places
But I love you more than ever
I forget to breathe
This is for me no matter how much I think of you and I think of you often
Maybe more than I should and I don’t care
I trust my thoughts
I trust you

Everything I feel or know
Comes back to you

The Fifth of July

The day before was a revival
Yes or No
Believers and Spirits
and the tortured eyes fallen in between
They sang for you, they sang for me

The night before was a battleground
Tooth and nail
Survivors and martyrs
and those who protected the old and the young
but we all fought, we all won

The moment before was silent
Heart and soul

Lullabies and sonnets filled the empty night and choirs were formed
I stood motionless

Watched the bullets pass by, each one closer than the next
I wondered if one could kill a man

Then the moment passed

Some watched the sun rise against the dark
Philosophers and artists
and the enjoyment of recognition

Tiny heartbeats and small fists

Today we are free

Self Portrait

When people ask what became of me
Answer quickly

Alcoholism and anorexia

When they say, but she was so pretty

Roll your eyes

When they want to know: why so harsh?
Say real self assuredly

Obviously you never met Kara Bibb


start in on some wild tangent about what's really wrong with the world. curse the breakdown of democracy and bad drivers and rapists and ex-lovers and haters and everyone that steals every piece of everything that is good and natural and beautiful and true in the world.
make excessively theatrical arm gestures and stand up out of your chair and with a clenched fist and your head raised to the sky say over and over and over again

why are you doing this to me
Why are you doing this to me
Why are You doing This to me

why are you doing this

and then

in mid sentence

look far and away
as if you just lost your train of thought

then pick right back up where you left off

to me

When the people look at you and say
what does this have to do with Kara Bibb
you'll just say



Within the confinements of my words
I find grace
and offer
to you
As Fathers once offered gold and silk to royal men
for their one day fatherless daughters

I am glad for you and will not hurt for myself
Because I do believe
in far greater things than me
But not than you

I could not edit you out of my story
I tried to be alone
But I am yours

When you sleep in my bed
your head rests on my sleeve with my heart

Remember the time I told you I was consumed by thought
and want for peace
I surrender
To only the thought
Of you and me, forever

Love Revisited

She stands on tippy toes and renewed hope
Believes in one true love, about faces, and positive thoughts
Rarely admits to tearing her own skirts
or being delicate
She simply loves love


until your heart bursts like confetti into empty space
imagine wine is your lover
sip, taste, gulp
until your lips turn red and your head is dizzy
believe in magic
deny illusions
embrace your pain as a mother would
hold it close in your arms
it will all be okay
it will all be okay

Friday, March 16, 2012

Spring of 29

If you want to cry
you can weep for the season
because every season dies
Buried and unearthed by the changing sun

Not fair and pretty
is the spring of Spring
and the fall of Fall
Hearts that beat but are breaking

We are disguised by the freedom of night
acclaimed by Summer's rendition of discipline
The few hours spent worshiping the day
make light hearts set against darkening skin

There is no Winter in the beginning of Spring
Only thin dresses twirling on Sunday's breeze
Skirting the weight of the world, humming
time slips by without worry

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Perfume Bottles

The time I turned over sixteen ounces of boiling Earl Grey onto the top of my left foot is a story all in itself. If you want to read that story you can visit my old blog at www.myspace.com/somethingcleverer. I pulled every bit of humor out of that painful herbal tea horror, but failed to mention my favorite part...the perfume bottles.

Second and third degree burns on your foot when you work in food service means you don't have to work in food service. For five to seven to days. Doctor's orders. It was frightening not working for a whole week, but fear gave way to the only time I have ever been on percocet.

I made the pallet to end all pallets in my living room and settled into the longest movie marathon of my life. A few Boulevard girls showed up like wise men to sit with me, their favorite movie, and half of whatever dosage was prescribed to me. Katie Rook was the first to arrive and with her, "What the Bleep Do We Know?", a documentary about quantum physics and the power of thought. Tracy Dean also showed up with "Freaks", a horror film about sideshow performers, but it was an aside in "What the Bleep Do We Know" that found another side of and endeared this memory to me.

Masaru Emoto, a Japanese thinker and writer, claims that a water molecule (the most receptive of the four elements) will react accordingly to the human emotion being directed at it. So you take a vile of water and inscribe the word "love" on its surface while also directing thoughts of love to the water. You take this same vile of water and inscribe the word "hate" while directing hateful thoughts. Under microscope the water molecules visually become beautiful and orderly or ugly and chaotic, depending upon the positive or negative emotion. This blew my mind. "If thoughts can do this to water, imagine what they can do to us." Us, a body made up of 90% water. I was a believer.

My perfume collection had reached a pinnacle during this time. My mother worked at Dillard's fragrance counter and she passed her good scents on to me. Inspired, I sharpied with thoughtfulness and care my perception of what feeling each fragrance was meant to evoke. Armani Code was Goodness, Truth, and Beauty. Burberry's Weekend was Simple and True. Green Tea by Elizabeth Arden was Love Always. Clinique Happy was Purity,Love, Kindness. My replacement bottle of Clinique Happy more aptly became Happy. From then on instead of deciding how I wanted to smell that day, I chose my daily scent based upon how I wanted to feel that day.

After receiving my prized scent, Lolita Lemnicka, I decided the bottle was too beautiful to graffiti. I just settled myself into knowing that I smelled too nice to be bothered with the thoughts of becoming a Lolita. My perfume dwindled quickly, I wore it so much that I didn't want to wear it anymore lest it run out completely. With only a few spritz left to it's name, I decided to get symbolic with Lemnicka. I carefully sharpied, "Your cup runneth over" over the fragrance's brand and kept wearing the scent. A few days later Jessica caught whiff of me as I breezed into her apartment."Oh yeah, I have something for you. My aunt gave me a bottle of Lolita and I know how much you love it. Here." Not only was my bottle not empty, it was full. My sharpie came out in full force and that's how I came to wear Alchemy, everyday.

Friday, February 17, 2012

You will step on the soil of many countries.

With bare feet and toes deep,
poor men walk and shepherds keep
on dirt that remains the same.

A cattle grazes and swats
at the flies and the paradox.
Gentle beasts. Wild, wild are the tamed.

The poor man is collecting dirt.
Stained with the blues of his collared shirt,
white knuckled martyr, blood red with shame.

The shepherd (shhhhhhh so few of you now,)
is barefoot and still with toes in the ground.
Be brave. The ground we keep remains the same.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012


Love, food, medicine, and pursuits and aspirations
Culture, mood, lists and listlessness
Let's start here

Maybe you're already turned on
maybe you should turn your radio down
Either way we've started now

You want to throw evolution on the back burner
No, I'm saying
Evolution is on the back burner
Melting and making things
Forget about it and pay attention to
the two hands in front of you

Your hands are yours
and they do what you ask them to

The same is true
of your general disposition
or your acute supposition

We all agree we all have capabilities

Some of us are using them
to the best of our ability



Friday, January 27, 2012


I looked up
and no one was pointing the finger at me
so I started blaming me for everything
that is so typical of me

I looked up
and my mother and my sister were sharing
my loveseat and that was everything
every little piece of me

I just can't
I can't do this
I can't count every word I write
I can't count on every word you say

hard breaks and long pauses
don't make sense to me
I'm trying to write a story right now
and you keep showing up in my poetry


please don't take this away from me

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

When Mema died

My grandmother
Jolene Bracy
my mother's mother

She was beautiful
blue eyes
She is my grandmother

Once she told me she was voting for Ross Perot
because it sounded nice
President Perot

She took in a tattered pageant dress
and, bead by bead, sewed
every paisley that was meant to adorn that dress
I tied for first runner up
She was there

When Mema died
I was in Texarkana
I wore pin-striped pants to her funeral
I read a poem
I raced home before it was over

Family is fragile
I rarely know how to handle it
I treat it too gingerly

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Tops or Floral Loveseats

she rearranged their furniture
seperating his from hers
stacking indescretions on top of each other
a single skeleton key locked all of their doors

from the inside

You want to go back in time?


You want to live forever?


Alright, let's go.


And she let him back in, forever.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Currently Redefining Sexy

So my dad died of a crystal meth overdose
and my mother is spectacularly beautiful
She left him a few months before
he up and died
on drugs
She's still really beautiful
She's still really poor
Like, has no money
because my dad was poor
That's how it works
My mom and I are really poor
in money
because my dad had a drug problem
and died before he amended his finances

Amending your finances
is a second word for
taking care of your family

I am currently redefining

Monday, January 9, 2012

People look like People

I marched down the sidewalk of downtown
left right left
I could feel the cold in my right ear

Of the three people that looked like me
two people looked at me
I said hi

I wondered if anyone ever wondered
I didn't look at them

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Admitting One

I can be so hateful now
now that I know
and I was so hateful to you
when you lived in my apartment
and when I sat in your car
when I said I used to do it for you
but now you are on your own
you didn't miss a beat
you just said
"why are all these people in the middle of the road?"
you're a peculiar one that way
the way you don't quite react
the way people want you to
I think I get it from you