For Kaitlin

You were
My moss picking monster angel
Ripping stagnation bed sheets out from under me
And starting forest fires in my nest hair
I spent three months awake because of you
When you gave me nets and told me to catch the moon
And I never did
But I drew constellations on your back
And for a while
That made us the first two astronauts to reach mars
And it was all ours
To make beauty of
And even though we both got dust underneath our nails
And on our palms
And staining ours clothes
We still etched designs into its surface until we covered the whole thing
And
You built wood around me until I was a treetop canopy
And you were birds soaring past my sky tall head
Bringing me back stories of the places you flew to
You beautiful winged monster angel
I should have known
You could have only stopped flying for so long
Because all of us dirt walkers
Don’t move as quickly as you
You never didn’t know where you were going
I’m convinced you’re at least half wind
And have a hard time believing
We exist in the same world
Kissing you
Always hinted at something impossible
And your easy laughter
Always echoed longer than I expected it to
You made me marathon legged
When I had built barriers to keep myself in bed
And though I came out of it all
Out of breath
Your laughter still plays the triangle sometimes
It sounds like a wink

You and I are made of different worlds entirely
And our brief collision
Was in no way any miracle
But there are days now
When I try on your laughter
And teach myself smiling as wide as you
And some day I expect to catch sight of you
Making sculptures out of clouds
And catching the moon

the cranes are still here but
the people have gone
and this place feels alone
but i still walk along

this crack-ridden sidewalk
deserted and grey
the prices were rising
then fell fast one day

and i run past these things with my eyes closed and music on blaring to drown out the silence of the people who left and left me here staying in a city of so many, but none of them living.

To Mckenna, Sean, and Audrey

I cover my whole face in shaving cream now
Not just the area underneath my lips and neck
Remember
When you used to beg me to shave
My awkward first facial hairs
I remember telling you those hairs meant
Soon I would be a man
On nights we named after ourselves
As we both tried to burn paper with our minds

I can hold my beer now
You would be proud to watch me play masculinity and
Other new games we used to talk about as if
They were world important deep secrets
We were burying inside each other in
Those early mornings we used to claim for ourselves
But
I sleep on my back now
And you don’t know that
And my late nights aren’t always claimed mornings
Sometimes they’re just lost evenings

And still
Even though I can reach the top shelf
With arms that have known now how to hold hammers
And women
Still
Though the stories we wrote once
On napkins in backyards
Are now etched in walls that I actually live in
Still
I can not man-make myself in the mirror
And suits still fit me like
A scarecrow on a city bus
And I never button the top of any shirts
In an actual fear that I will choke
So
I don’t think I’m jumping into the brunt of my 20s with my head on straight
Because I still try to knock over cups with my mind
And sometimes
Get scarred at night

I just want to remind you
And myself as well
How unimportant it is, at least right now

Because there were nights
When we really wanted to
That I swear
We could make fire in our hands

Ten dollar gas can
Three dollar gas
Two block stroll
there, two block
back again

open door, uncap
stick in snoot
pour through the
long pause

 

 

 

 

 

 

remove, recap,
can in trunk
turn over once
sputter to death
turn over once
more
sputter to life

brake, shift
park neutral drive
gas, drive
and home and
sleep,

I suppose.

Always walk 

On the right side of the street
And on the left side of a woman 

You walk on the left side of a woman
Because 

In the case that 

Water splashes on you

It will splash on you
And not on her

You walk on the right side of the street

Because it makes you feel safe 

The left side of the street
Makes you innately uneasy 

And you can’t explain that

You are 

Innately uneasy


If you had the time

To rest your legs 

You would cut them off
Wouldn’t you 

If you had the time 

To soak your feet
You would drown them 

Wouldn’t you


If you had the time 

If you had the time 

If you had the time you would connect a helium tank
To your belly button
And expand or explode or inflate 

And any of those would be a okay 

Wouldn’t they


If you could be glass
You would not be blown 

You would be lightening on sand
Crack and shattered as essence
If you were a train 

You would be derailed
But you would not stop 

Only faster and faster
Crushing bushes and whole towns under your wheels
And you could not stop
Could you
And if you could, you would not 

Wouldn’t you


And if you 

Could blink more times per minutes
Or rub your eyes with more ferocity 

The things you imagine

Would be more in focus
Than the things that are actually there
And in fact 

You confuse those often

Stop blinking your own existence into alternates
Stop listing the universes in which you live
You are singular
And if you are not you still appear (at most times)
To embody something
Here
So embody that fully
Please
Stop blank staring windows into static
And pretending magic finger tips during long silences
At least long enough to remember
You
Exist here
And have responsibilities to that end

Remember
There are people outside your own doorsafe
Take a moment to feel the hardwood against your feet
Exist here
Speak to them

even if a man stands as an island

the movements of the sea still shape his shores

and even if we shoo away the raven

we’ll still hear from the rooftops, “nevermore”

so turn not your face from summer’s light

do not fear the warming rays of sun

force no smile from your eyes

for no one is truly ever one

every heart beats in rhythm with each other

the trees and the rocks each hum along

the falcons and the sparrows fly the same skies

with nature’s voice we all can sing along

I know there are Those, but they are not him, and he is not that.

And, in my deepest animal, I wish it were-

Careening, demanding, needing

me, my arch-in-back as

I twist before his Readiness, his angst.

Hoping for the best only to find nothing;

a shrew to tame for my own dear desire.

Play summoner
with brass horn, with
steel string and pickup

Make dark the room
while ghosts come
through, while soul simmers

Locks on windows and
the clock set fast so
it’s on time when it
moves again

Things are too short to settle for.
Things are too long to settle, too.

Ghosts come through and
quiet, for to not disturb
the summoner played

Time is arbitration
timing, arbitrary

There’s fire in all of it,
though,
sprouting from the devil-box
and bursting from the big
brass bell

And it would bring you to tears
while the ghosts come through,
and now you’ve lost yourself,

and that’s just fine, because
here we are again.



The deeper I pushed you in to my pockets

The more tangled you became
And

Every time I would pull you apart
There would be an increased level of frustration

Agitated

To the point

Where I was pulling
With scarred fingers 

And no regard 

To how much tension you could take 

And 

Although I always know 

Phone right front pocket
Wallet back left 

Keys front left
Love 

Always gravitates from different pockets
Throughout the day 

See 
I don’t know where love fits 

In what otherwise
Is a logical system of organization
And there is no designated spot
For my headphones
But 
I never leave the house without love 

Because I need something to distract me 

From 
Monday through Friday’s 

Mundane walk to campus
I have used love 

To drown out distraction
Just as often 

As it has been distraction

But my headphones can not
Drown out love 

And believe me

I have tried
I

Go through headphones

Bi-monthly

Losing them 

Easily 

And often feeling a pang of guilt
When replacing one 
I have not lost
But will not look for
I have found myself
Loving three people at once 

And some days

I put on a jacket
With that many pairs of headphones in its pockets 

I can be that haphazard
With where I place my love
Sometimes 
I think I’ve fallen for
An entire airplane’s worth

Of women 

Who I will never talk to 

My headphones
On my last flight
Were cheap and not useful

And until I can invest in love
I will not get the quality of music
I want
But I find myself 

Addressing my letters 

Just as often as I find myself 

At radio shack 

Which is rarely
If ever 

Because I know

That the moment I spend more than 20 dollars on a pair of headphones
I will be in constant fear
Of breaking or losing them

A man crashed his car in to a viaduct
with fervor and purpose.
He died instantly, but his
viaduct still stands, still holds up
the things it’s meant to

His car was totaled in the paperwork
but a junkyard man will
make that old car right again
and sell it off new-used, no
question.

His mother is screaming and
his daughter does not get
the concept of not having
a ride to school or a bedtime story
or a father, in fact.

At least they get the money, though,
from that big fat half-mil term-life.

And at least he got to go out big
before he had to collect his pension.

Not that there’d be anything for him,
anyway.

“The first time I put on the black silk panties, I got a hard-on right away”
-Julian Beck

I would like to spend time as a Drag Queen
Sing I’m so pretty in the mirror
There is a beauty in a façade
And kiss myself right on the reflection
Leaving red lipstick stain

I would like to tuck
And tape
And support, support, support
Six rolled up wads of socks
Underneath wonderbra
On wonderbra
I would like to lie
About who I am
And be called
Beautiful
Or sexy
Or atrocity
Or abomination against nature
I want to be freak
And hey mama
Or
Get the fuck out

I want to don the mask of the drag queen
And hold my persona together with nothing
But a thick cake of make up
Turning
1 am at a sleazy bar
Into fireworks
Using nothing but sequins
I want to be that threat

And when I wake up tomorrow morning
I want to be so still drunk
That I mistake 
my black eyes for make up
I want to create
The entirety of who I am
And wear that person’s heart on my sleeve

I want to be

A drag queen
For just one week
Maybe a month
I want to step out of this body suffocation
And be the pearl earrings fur coat
Grandness I cannot embody
And though I am not made of bright lights
If I
Age seven years in a day
So be it

But if I disappear
I do not want it to be
Gradual and subtle
Just one flash bang
Blinding week
I would like to be
Grand

You are my sunshine

when skies are grey

but sometimes I just

need a break

from all those harmful

UV rays

you bleach my hair

you tan my face

you dress me down

you keep me baked

and then when all

is said and done

the moon’s as pretty

as the sun

before we fall asleep
you look out the window and notice
the first snow of winter
finally falling
it thinly coats cars trees streets

and before we fall asleep
i pray it will stick till morning
so i can see the paw prints
of the black cat i just saw
running along the fence.

I wore slacks for 12 hours today and
costume changed my tie once for
a nicer occasion that required a thicker knot

I sat with my back more rigid than it knows how
And did not cross my legs or
put my elbows on any tables and
I refrained from using the word “bitch”
Even when the lady was being one

I was napkin lap charming
Speaking only softly and
Always peppered with compliments

All the while

I was quietly counting
The oddly growing number of
small rough blisters
On my fingertips and hands

These muscles ache and stretch
they are the Devil’s Sinews,
the machines of a vengeful spirit.

My heart, clutched by blackened bones
is pounding and burning,
my stomach spraying acids from it’s
pores

I would scream if my lungs would not
brim with pesticides.

I would kill if my hands would
stop ripping my skin from me.

I would eat and tear and scream would
my body permit me.

Instead I smash my hands on concrete
until they are but
pulpy stumps.

Instead I break myself apart.