(crescent)

you want me to sing.
to the moon (which I cannot eat) and love
which I cannot speak.

(January)

He smokes cigarettes.
She writes poetry upstairs,
pretends not to love.

(takeout)

Use your broccoli spoon.
Cottage cheese will get you nowhere.
Forks even less so.

(I say this and I mean it; I mean I say it's true)

This world needs you.
There are gaps, here, space between.
Step into the breach.

(with)

face touch hands lips, crest
body my body your lift me you rise--
music, ethereal, light

( / therefore )

I need this. Poetry.
One's own fills what's fallen;
Give me pounding light.

(turtleneck)

leave me, leave me, leave
weary veins and tight-knit heart-
sweater pulling thin

(like that)

I want to write like
that. Like my heart is liquid
and you are the glass.

(this afternoon)

Today I am sad.
Rife with apologies. You who think
I left you I love you.

(this morning (February 11, 2012) (four parts))

I am nervous-antsy.
Writing with a pencil.
There is genius in me.

I know it. I want
to let it out! I am trying
to convince myself.


No. I am trying
to convince everybody.
That I can do it.

Then they will tell me
that I can, do it, so that
I will. Do it.

(Musical Mash-ups X: where'd my body go?)*

Have you seen my ghost?
She forgot to float away.
A ghost just needs a home.



*with attributions owed to Wintersleep

(I think I am)

Your silence slays me.
Meantime feign indifference.
Telling me I'm brave.

(I am in love with my chiropractor)

Everything changes.
Spine aligns and thoughts free-flow.
More is possible.