Monday, July 31, 2017

Arkansas Summer: First Draft

The summers in Arkansas
are dangerous to the psyche
Even breathing is with great effort
It feels like liquid is on the lungs
Everything that must be done
must be done before noon
or after it cools off some
I make sangria so I can daydrink
until the sun goes down
It is hard to be in love
I don't even want my skin
to touch my skin
It is easy to make friends
Everyone feels the same way
Hot as hell and wanting relief
Hoping it will never end

Sunday, July 23, 2017


"You get it from your grandmother"
But what?
What did I get?
Passerbys have been pulling me aside
my whole life
and they keep telling me,
"You get it from
your mom's side of the family."
Please, someone tell me,
what it is.
I have no idea.

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

how often I think of you.

When dealing with people
that cannot to be taught anything,
let them learn everything
as if it they thought of it on their own.

Outside of this, I have no wisdom to offer

My body and thoughts move
instinctually and with great purpose,
like a frog in the same deep well
it inevitably dies in,
except there are no limitations
and I am not a figure of speech.

I am outside of this with nothing to offer,
except for my body and thoughts
that swell in wakes, sleep,
and in your absence.
I am unsure of how to bring you here,
so I am treating you like a secret.

I won't even tell myself

how often I think of you.

Saturday, July 1, 2017

Off Subject

My thoughts get tangled.
It is too easy.
I get it from you.
The way it seems as though
the only thing I have to do
is smile
and be yours
But there is something
wrong with me
I get it from you
I am incomplete
Whatever you gave me
took something
away from me
I am searching for it in people
Every one that crosses
my path is going to know
that I am here
I remember you
You will remember me too.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

White Moths (All Omens Were Created Equal)

When the white moth showed up
on Friday night I knew it meant something.
Everything I read about omens agreed,
I was being visited by the deceased.
(Superstitions are like horoscopes,
they're only real if you believe.)

On Saturday I started thinking about
that time someone told me
i am the way i am
because i need people to like me.
You were the first one to tell me
i treat strangers better than i treat family
I thought I was just saying "hi" in passing.
I had to dig so deep to remember
that I am the way I am
because I need me to like me.
This is how I think people should be.

Today I looked up and nine years had passed
along with you.
I started to believe that the flipped breakers,
thunder, and strangers in my spare room
were because of you.
It is scary to believe in heaven
and perfect places where everyone there
is someone you love
who loves you too
but I swear on everything that is true
that as I sit here thinking about it
another white moth visited me
and I just know it was you.

Sunday, May 14, 2017

We Were Both There

You were 18 when you
first met me.
I was all thumbs-up,
and you still brag about
how easy it was
to have me.
I actually don't remember
being 18,
but I remember Mariah Carey,
Bone Thugs-N-Harmony,
and breaking down.

Of course you were scared
when I up and left town.
You wrote me every day
and I had to interpret
everything you said to me
through the tear stains
that blurred the letters I'd get.
It was hard for me too.
I wanted to cry all the time,
but couldn't.

If there is anything
you have taught me,
it's forget everything
that hurts
and live completely
in the moments
that make living
worth it...
and cry when I want to.

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Thermometers and Thermostats

My heart was set to 72
since before I was born.

I just want everyone
to be comfortable.

But that's not entirely true
because what I really want
is for everyone to be set
to my temperature.

This is not an oasis fantasy.
I am carefully understanding
how to set each person's degree
to exactly how it should be...

Mild, with a slight chance of
subdued responsibility

My heart is set to 72.
I can't be held responsible
for the cold in your heart
or the heat in your retreat

Monday, March 13, 2017

Taxes and Death

Death is easier to explain
than explaining how good
being alive is
When the general-general is
white on white on white
words stop making sense
Maybe money is important
Hey, Bank
Hey, Government
Take all this spending money I never spent
so I can sit on my patio
and listen to sad songs
that make me happy
I'm not going to pretend like
I never washed dishes
or played music or made beds
for strangers
I know that's worth something
Eleven percent on the dollar
Seems fair
I don't care

Death is inevitable and does not come with an expiration date

Some people lose everything and still find a way to wrap their minds around how zero equals love

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Service Industry Part 1.

The dishwasher told me I look like Jesus
"Pareces como hermoso Jesรบs"
I know just what he means

The chef reassures me
"He just thinks you're heavenly"
as if I thought Edilberto was being mean

But I know he loves me

because he's never upset
when I put dirty dishes
where the clean dishes go
as a matter of fact
he never seems upset
at any one
for any thing

Edilberto is more like Jesus
than any body I know

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Tulips Tomorrow

I am crazy restless pacing my apartment,
moving baubles around and cleaning out purses
I would sweep but I swept yesterday
I would sleep but my fridge is full of beer
and nothing else
All my vases are clean but empty
That must be a metaphor for something
I think something new is about to begin
It's not spring
it is cold and rainy, but things are changing
Maybe it has something to do with me
I have to tell you
there is something peaceful inside of me
It can drive me to hysterics
if I do not make lists of the money I spend
It makes me uncomfortable to feel complete
So when I realize my apartment
fits perfectly together but there are no flowers,
I pull everything out of the closets
and write down: Buy tulips tomorrow

The Highest Road leads to The Mountain Top

Unsolicited advice:
take the high road
Do not simmer
in hate or fear
Be happy today
Show your neighbor
what happy is
It is a warm winter
and the gardens will
need tending to soon
Push the dirt around
with your bare hands
Push the wind around
with your own breath
If you think nothing has changed
than you are not paying attention
If you think we are not winning
then you are not breathing
Slow it down,
take it easy, baby

Friday, January 13, 2017

100 Pieces of Paper and a Stolen Typewriter

I tried to open the packaging with the tip of a quill
and cursed myself as the delicate catch,
meant to pool ink,
split in two and folded over backwards

Something consoled me,
some things are just for show,
so I opened the package with my fingernails
and looked up the word "bravado"

I made a promise to myself to forgive mistakes,
to be delicate and hard, free and captured,
to forget about loneliness
and the unfolds of being split in two

Something like mercy or hard feelings
split open me as my fingertips
pecked harder at the keys
It made me feel brave again

I began to reckon the big picture
and that thing that often escapes me
made itself known in black ink
The universe swallows everything

So when I mention you, me, sex, 
gin, escape artists and tight wires,
all I mean to say is, do the right thing,
None of this will be remembered

Fina China & Ceramics

It is the sublety of the soft blue
played against lustre

breakable figurines positioned behind glass
or wrapped in paper

It is the way eyes settle and hold fast
onto fragile things

delicate shapes meant to be touched and turned,
baubles and doorknobs

It is the way one cherishes their own
but still wants other's

It is fine china, ceramics, and clay,
the moon, sun, and earth

The simple pleasures of perfect design,
detail and balance

It is the way she wouldn't look at him
and the way she would

She was the pretty things put on display
and he was a bull

It was the reason he didn't want her,
the reason glass breaks

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Candid Blue

She described the color to me in epic detail
and I promised her
I would find it
and bring it to her

She squealed
she exalted
she was astonished
and said over and over again
This is perfect
as she ran her brush against
and with the wood grain
I agreed
It is the best thing
Before we knew it we were high on fumes
laughing as we cut in the edges
Listening as the other spoke of her body,
her once forgotten sense of self,
and ultimate affinity for painting

They both knew they were the only ones
who would ever see the mess they had made

They both knew
they were the only ones
who would ever see
the mess they had made