Laughing at you,
to your face,
as you lie behind your smile,
lie through your teeth,
spreading lies with your wagging tongue,
protected by your teeth,
but what happens when your teeth start to rot?
coated with candied rumors,
they start to rot?
blackening they fall out,
one by one,
and you chew on your own teeth,
chew on your own lies,
you’ll be left with nothing but gums,
and a wagging tongue…

The phoebe and the chickadee

the whip-poor-will and jay,

I thought I heard their songs

as the sun came up today,

but then I woke and pulled my shade

to find I was alone.

My dreams were being kind and made

me dream I was at home.

The phoebe and the chickadee

the whip-poor-will and jay,

they’ll wake me from my dreaming soon,

today is not that day.

There are days I am a giant in this skin
Lost in a vessel I only some times have control over
There is a marble in this swimming pool
Trying to inflate itself to fit all this space
But more of me is water than glass

I am locked inside of this brazen bull
And yes, I get too warm sometimes
But behind all my gilded gold and horns
I forget I am bull and the man inside
I am Minotaur
Call me Minotaur
Never think I’m anything but bull and man
I am rock and glass
I am earth and wind
And I sometimes also claim to be the
Labyrinth
Not lost
I am many corridored
Not horned
But I do roar

So I pick up tiny cups with hands
Too large
Trembling mountains into desktops
Tapping holes in walls
Breaking feet with every step
Flailing bullet limbs
No you’ll never see me dancing
I break things
I break things
And I don’t clean up

And I break my back down
To hide my giant shoulders
Because you always look small
And your hands look soft
And I want to be the marble
Not the swimming pool
And curl tuck myself behind your right ear
I want to live there

Whispering my labyrinth truth to you
And figuring out how I can be soft too
Soft like
The snow on mountain tops peeking over my shoulder
The slope of your neck when it first kisses bone
The sun that rises over you
Or the hawks circling me
But the truth is
If my hand was a mountain
I would crush you

So I pull my hand back
And I never touch you
Because most days I fear
Being in this bull

And if my arm snaps back and I crack you
If my roar makes you shiver in your skin
Know I only ever meant to make myself so small
You could wear me like pearl

You could curl tuck me behind your right ear
I could roll down
Your body
With no fear of breaking you
Because some days
This body is all boulders
And goddamn do your hands look soft

I’ve been counting the cuts and scratches that I have
collected over the last several weeks and I
have come to the rather unsettling conclusion that
if all of them had happened at once I would have
bled completely out and died in just about
fourteen minutes, which seems like enough time
to do something constructive about that sort of thing
but even fast moving wouldn’t be enough to stop
them all from leaking so I’m glad at least that
these overall singularly insignificant personal
injuries are slow-to-come and that if they don’t
heal quickly at least the band-aids usually stop the
bleeding.