Friday, December 30, 2011


I do not want you
to sleep with her I want you.
What it means to tell. 

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

(that woman)

She's a dry cookie.
Lacerates fingers and throats.
No bend, but will break.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Friday, December 23, 2011

(in the meantime, please)

In the meantime, please.
Know that patience comes hard; know
God, that my heart aches.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

I am filled empty. 
Nothing left but silence. And
Memory. Too much.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Saturday, December 17, 2011

(it is our messiness that holds us together, OR this is how a heron builds its home)

"A newly built heron nest is nothing more than a few dozen twigs arranged in the crotch of a tree, a platform about 18 inches wide and so flimsy one can count the eggs from the ground. Over the years, as the birds add sticks that become glued together with gallons of guano, the nest grows into a massive structure solid enough to hold a man."

First: Gathering Times.
Tree's limbs spreading for the tribe. 
Shit, the glue that binds. 

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Wednesday, December 7, 2011