POEM A DAY 2012: January 2012

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

goodnight moony membranes

I will share a habit.

I do not like God, but I like to pray.

Praying is bread and Bach.

Well, it is a creed. I say I pray,

because a creed is a weird old man in an office,

and a prayer is a murmur in a book

that you stand and read in the sunshine.

I move between the words

like bells dividing sound

in the tower.

All musicians know prayer,

we run our hands or mouth

up and down sacred scales,

breathing.

Four times a day

I pin myself to the present,

and feel the prayer widen

and adjust the lens

of my inner visions.

I am alive with the fresh flowers and the blood.

I am focused on the endless path that I have chosen.

My friends are silence, love, joy, and the truth.

My enemies are selfish pain, crowding, and hate.

Help me to be good and to be great

help me to be wise and sincere

and to answer and heed the eternal call that I have heard.

I am a warrior; I will fight until I die.

poem about old friends

poem about old friends sitting on the bed, stretched out in the living room.

The people you know well-is it that they are uniquely

a bunch of crazy,

or is it just that I know them well, see past novelty?

this poem about old friends who come by and say hello, who drive you home,

who show up at your opening without asking. They don't say congratulations,

they just stay until the end. They just hug you the way they always have, but longer. They just hang out with each other and talk about you. They don't use your jargon, wouldn't give you the satisfaction. These friends see past your novelty, not amazed. These old friends, they stay until the end. They hug you the way they always have, but longer.

Rachel collaboration

THIS IS ME

HERE I AM

WHEN I WAS YOU

I WAS WHERE I AM

TAKE ME IN

EAT ME BLAND

ALL YOUR AFTER

WERE YOU UP YUP

MCC

How very
hard
to boil

you.

How very hard
to bevel you.

A mirror. Agitation. A frog in a hole.

actor for everyone's dad

he's the actor that plays everyone's dad

getting older, and older, and older until

he's no longer the actor who plays everyone's dad

until he's the actor who's dead

he changes every couple of years

he changes when he's dead

i see him in the movies sometimes

changing, with a beard, with no beard

smiling, drinking, kissing a woman

accomplishing something big

haggard grey hair,

no matter who he is,

we will need him for

when our dad is gone

Love Poem, Theoretical Practice

oh diary, why doth my nose runn, protesting too much?

when will my true love surprise me without the tramply hooves' rush?

wherefore art thou, sleepio? In vain insisteth thy name's C3P-O!

Wheel forward, prankster! Gallop tankishly.

And when thine beetled eye rotates mine globes and axis,

Full well will thou know me, my orbs of dropsnot, my loving praxis.

the 51st state

a long series of confusions

somewhere in the set

you call my job my hobby and my hobby my job

someone says to me "keep the faith" IN ALL CAPS

and i go, WTF, you are a minister

you are a gay man married to a repressed lesbian

who had a child together in wedlock

of musical comedy

tuna finish in a can

and fill an expectant evening with brine

there are dreams which even i cannot muster into realism

let's move to paris

a. in the springtime

b. when i graduate

c. never i'm kidding

d. when i become someone i'm not

i said paris, but really i meant something else.

and then you call me a hippie and i accuse you of trying to assign me an identity

and that other guy makes fun of a theoretical haircut

which we all understand to be mine in reality

no, corporate life is not meant for me despite all the best attempts

at cozy dreams

there are dreams which even i cannot munster into realism

because the moon is actually quite far away despite its appearance

and aspirations to united stateshood

AGAIN, AGAIN

I’m full on grain,
it is the end,
some music so familiar, always,
and then it ends,
some feelings
are from movies,
and then they end,
quaking hands,
wet blue paint,
our ramble talk,
the idle car,
some salts, some smells,
will always bring
back forever point,
where we decide,
to be much better,
before the
end.

jan 31

love that i want more

thank you

moon on roof thank you maria

ababa

eiman, sahar and max.

aziz and asma.

azza and hajooj and sarah

both sarahs

thank you

nisrin.

both nisrins

and jacqui and chloe.

loy and ezair

mom and dad

hannah john and jam es

and the other two sarahs

love that i want more

thank you

Age 12, ambition of 21

Age 15, ambition of 25

Age 22, ambition of 42

Age 25, ambition of 15

Age 26, ambition of 26

poo?

there is something at the bottom of the closet
it looks like a large pile of feces
too big to be mouse turds
even a rat could not produce that
feels hard like something melted
and formed into that coiled shape
could it have been a snake?
no, definitely not or we'd see some dried up skin
better get the custodian to scrape it out
but seriously
what on earth could that hard chocolate brown coiled up pile be?

On Riverside Road

Ilya in the empty train sitting in his wet pants.

I do not really have faith in Vivi, or Grace, or Bella.

Their bossiness frightens me.

Zoe, you frighten me with your careless smile.

Stefan I trust you with your grandpa

from the old country,

your sloping nose.

And Ilya, quiet. Ilya, alone.

I still can't believe your parents met on a midnight bus to Georgia

Vermont

Festive

it all turned out.

Hacked in mid-motion

and going nowhere, briefly.

But festive. My ears were up.

And I was bright and I was

not volatile to

post-meal surprise:

stripped messages of denial,

naysayers in the knapsack

and brought on and kept going

but not being fed our inappropriate

acquisitions.

What is dry and knotted

and straw sinew

and burning.

I've suffered for the little that I see,

but I am glad I see you doing this.

I am glad that there is nothing

wrong with us.

Finally.

Slight affirmation but it's

a soggy fire and a tent by headlight

and a petulant car.

Shower exchange,

rock interaction,

unlikely keeper,

a view,

and no-one, and no-one,

no third wheel,

and no-one,

no third wheel and

one

one.

Nothing is wrong with us.

I held on to the wheel, a suck of relief,

and thought about that as the weather turned

and we drove gamely on.

mystery money

Shy oligarch game hen.

Mushroom shuffling,

ardent pen pushing,

unwise dreaming,

game hen.

Distracted again,

it pushes the button.

Things are happening.

Wild, unprecedented things.

Mouths are open, bogged up with mistakes,

little nests of some discrepancy or other.

The crowd is stuck in mid-air.

The crowd is going wild.

Their minds are bolted.

It cannot be.

Game-pen stops what it is doing,

looks up,

blinks wildly,

and continues as usual.

The crowd is in tears.

Im dancing in the rain, cuz it beats swimming in my tears

it is said that wat follows rain is sunshine,
      but ive had so many rainy days that i fear what may follow is more rain,
           im happy dancing in the rain,
              hearing the splish, splash of my footfalls,
                  laughing at the whistle of the droplets bouncing off awnings and trashcans,
                     dragging behind me an umbrella that has never been opened

to catch but a drop,
     rain, rain go away, come again some other day
            (repeat till you feel like you've wasted enough time),
                the rain will come as will the sun...
                     but for now ill just enjoy dancing in the rain,

this is the driest ive been in a long time

daily practice 31

scroll down the screen
reading poem
titles & first lines
until something
snags me
chokes me up

knock me down
break both my legs
smash my kneecaps
with a hardwood 2x4
kill me
please

Capturing

You captured me
like a photo Polaroid
in your white borders.

With a short
a cropped moment
you caught me
unbeknownst.

Camera eyes
snapped me up
and now I am a picture
a narrative in black and white

4am in vegas

I doze off for what seems to be a moment
But proves to be hours
to find her curled up in my lap
And i don't mind
At all
Sent from Samsung mobile

Monday, January 30, 2012

love poem

here's a poem about love:

once, i told someone, "i want to wear your desire"

and she treasured it, puzzled over it, thrilled,

and talked about it with all her friends,

it was the tension of our flirtation, the

poem that launched a thousand hopes

and poems, talks on the threshold,

imaginary kisses, masturbations,

gushing together later about

about these imaginations,

letters, lessers,

phone calls,

boyfriends,

friends,

emails,

texts,

etc.

but it was just a typo.

there is a poem

you can lead a horse to water, but

you can lead a horse to water, but how?

you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot kill it

you can lead a horse to water, but how do you kill it?

u can lead a horse to water, hehehehehe

Oh, T.,

I'm sorry I'm not surprised. I'm sorry if I made you feel like you were responsible for my desires and feelings. I'm sorry that I wish I had an explanation that was more specific. I suppose that this is as specific a one as I'm likely to get.

I'm sorry that you're a hot mess and I wish there were something I could do to help you out of it (or into it more comfortably). I wish to be implicated in your destruction (but of course that's your decision, not mine). I'm sorry I wish it. I wish I didn't wish what I do, and I wish I didn't apologize so often. I'm sorry.

All siblings are lovers, anyway, and all lovers siblings. I'm sorry this message.

quick!

keep quiet
or they will stay

i want them to come out and play

then you must sit and wait
the time will come
when the game of life and death begins

coffee table book

a nude woman's face

also nude

nude faces

air on them

faces

them faces noodly

non-committal

I think I've had no drama,

boys under

a string of edison bulbs, all night

dancing, noodly

in brooklyn, the past, the summer

nude airy faces

wind-touched,

edison bulbs

outside, at night, a string

women, the past

no drama boys, four tearless ears

peerless years

brooklyn, bulbs

non-committal, summer

years

women, nude.

Locked In Syndrome

Dissemination in time and space,

Lesions in the soul.

Bradykinetic disease state,

No treatment for a self-limited course.

Locked in this foolishness,

The mind yearns

Bernanke analysis, urban anthropology, cap ratios, Gibran poems.

Locked in this town,

The ego yearns

Intelligent life forms, experienced life forms, self-aware life forms.

Locked in this moment,

The soul yearns

Unsqueeze, flow, fly.

Skimp on time and space,

Accept subpar product.

Antidote in easy reach,

Deny the urge to self medicate.

#7

i know all about food i can tell you what to eat

i can tell you

to i can tell you to dock in a lake
or

i can rest or i figured it out

when i was at the end
of being totally

i can give you something from ten years ago

that proves

there isn't anything else that proves that i didn't

figure out
or

new england
vegetables

sleep on your hair i can

sleep or wash my hair

i can tell you what to

get up or sit in a squat

or make a declarative statement.

Moves me

You dance for me around your cold room in the Bronx,

an erection pushing your pants forward.

You look like a fresh-faced Cunningham student,

all slight lines and switches.

Will you teach me before the audition?

But for you there may not be much to learn.

Evelyn

My Grandma Evie had big boobs like me
That bounced when she laughed
On Christmas she wore reindeer sweatshirts
and the reindeer pranced when she laughed

My Grandma Evie used to check to see if we were cold
by sticking her hand down the front of our shirt
pressing against our chests
with her frozen wrinkled hands

My Grandma Evie didn't have much money
so she always gave us 5 dollars in cash
on Birthdays and Holidays
we got kitten puzzles and jazz cassettes

My Grandma Evie lived alone
because she was divorced
Poppy cheated on her,
was a drunk and a bad dad
but I still loved him the most

My Grandma Evie died a year ago
My mom and dad sat with her and
watched as her eyes rolled back
and she took her last breath
asking them, am i dead yet?

My Grandma Evie always kept pictures of
her grandchildren around her television set
She organized family reunions
where she spoke of the time they lived in Rifton
and how she wished that she still did

SOUL NIGHT

You know your love sweaty blond mop of hair(your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on lifting unbuttoned yellow shirt(love keeps lifting me)
Higher over a white tshirt(lifting me)
Higher and higher socking and flailing and rockin(higher)
I said your love on the crowded dance floor(your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on 12:30 AM drunk on water and whiskey (love keeps lifting me)
Lifting me you're an exciting stranger beside me(lifting me)
Higher and higher I'm falling for you all over again(higher)

the bones

The bones are not hollow
they are not dry or jangly
they are not like bamboo windchimes
They are not like bird bones
They are not so good for flying.
The bones are warm and wet and pulsating
The bones are hard yes
but not as rock as hard or wooden furniture
maybe like a living tree in its wetness and density
The bones are heavy and full of flop
They delight to spread
They don't get any longer when they stretch
They are effortless to lift

But the bones do not clatter when they fall
But the bones do tumble in a heap.

When the bones see the eyes can become smaller
not the sensory delight of skin touch or muscle knead and stretch
but another profound delight
an understanding of dense objects
an unmitigated bone-on-bone touch
the ease of fall and lift
never like a machine
but still the engineering of masterful components
each one perfectly shaped for its work
each bone delights to do its work.

The bones are not ego
The bones are not emotional
The bones are not insecure.
The bones are slightly insensitive
The bones are a little brutish
The bones move in lizard joy
In the plainness of skeletal existence.

Gold Bird

3 o'clock
3 o'clock
softly turn
3 o'clock
softly turn
the sheikh's daughter
her clockwork head
chiffon veils write her name
slicing through dense fog - am I hot or cold? am I hungry?
raptor head
dancing in the river current
there are things I'm not seeing
bronze sculpture rotating

whthf

Just happened?

Built on repetition infinitesimal.

A sometime legacy stands on it.

But what the...?

Why are you standing on it?

But phoning it in?

Phoning it in?

Phoner.

NOT REALLY, NEARLY

I drive forest green Volvos
wherever I am
appropriate, accidental,
like most things.
Low-riders, hard-turners,
scratches at the base like
the world wants revenge.
In the mountains,
the company station-wagon,
whose windshield I cracked
with an 8 foot plank.
I don’t know my lumber,
not really, nearly,
switched, instead
to Jamie’s old sedan,
sham Jesus on the dash
that locals took for true.
Then back, to the original,
my parent’s second best,
trim flapping on the freeway,
peace sticker stuck still,
borrowed car cassette,
side A “Whiskey”, side B “Gin”.
That song – “I Got Loaded”
forever on repeat, but
I don’t get loaded,
not really, nearly,
just flushed, wistful, winded,
behind the wheel,
still don’t know how
to balance beers in consoles,
definitely don’t
know how to be country.
Someone please write,
not really, not nearly,
the song about that.

class time

computer whirring

fuck that so stressed

and sick of these apocolyptal tags?

"the end is near"

calypso your hips oh

your end is near

"it was night and i was waiting for her to come into the bedroom to have sex because you know we were very middle class and that's what you do at the end of the day."

"it was the afternoon and i was waiting for the e mail to arrive in my inbox because you know e mail was very middle class and that's what it did in the afternoon."

"you know i was waiting for my wet nurse in the morning because she was very middle class and never brought the milk on time."

my wet nurse brought curdled milk to the kitchen sink

and poured it down my throat

fragile plumbing corroded with acid and clotted with time

filling her pipes with smoke she suggested the middle class was an idea

was an illusion

was not real

was not her

was not what we all thought it was

and swept up the ashes of her cigarette

into the cinderbox of the collective fairy tales we tell

and thought about freud for a moment but left it on the coffee table

when she left her apartment filled with middle class furniture

time is always the thing, isn't it? insomnia is not your problem.

what they don't know is how crazy you've gone in the night

when no one was watching you not sleeping

"i wish that screw hadn't come loose"

she bemoaned at breakfast.

its whirring too quickly now.

One Foot in the Past and One Foot on the Page

I.
Another summer spent bruising like fruit.
You got on a plane and cried as the sun set
over America, picking at your wound:
the scab is a reminder to forget

the web of smells of soap and weed and skin -
go tell your brain that we are not a moon
and he’s no planet to be orbiting.
Go write another manifesto in your room.

II.
Mid-winter air feels thin, you stand and watch
the water churn and still, the levels rise
tnd drop, fresh water meets the brackish ice.
Look up, find Venus blinking in the sky -

you hear gates open, bridges split and lift -
she’s on the precipice, about to shift.

IN YR VOICEMAIL

You confirm
the fiery texture
of great friendship,
necessary, historical –
remember how you felt I’d slipped?
I remember how we’d hoist our pants
and glance sideways our yellow eyes,
re-heat the sugar coffee
until it melted
itself, and us.

Dumb relativism forever tell me what i desire I am scared of my desires my desires are not my desires we can now speak for our cats not with them for

Sobawkward person deserves to have genital touch
in bad way yr freNds don't see or agree
o is it u

Some ofnyall being so mean
what a form for hurting the gutted
resentment
resentment

"June was white

U hve no skills
u hv no dear
u hve no hope
u hav no joy

Be mean to me I like it funny
please accessorize them
u look so sticky Im scared to touch u
I died when I was 23
how did I die
I ate u
I Hi hi please make me the agent of my desires
I hate my desires
they're so normal
and resentful
like so gross
I feel so real
I like to hurt u so obliquely
so slowly

Ok go ahead
ok go ahead
ok go ahead

we never talk
where do we meet
when money

Bobbinbrown
Anna wintour
Joan didion

U must feel scared and insecure
whodoeant
ww r a poster now
we r a poster

up up up
downdowndown
long long long
loud loud loud

the new scare is heating
under aphoric
axis turnip
upper incher
werthing urge
vulvis crouche loop
ask for anchor

I am disappointed in this poem I am writing at my Job
which I own like a girlfriend
thy is abrazilian numer
using the new space
the special space
I don't trust my analyst
your critique is just reiterating
hyperbole is no longer critical

Let's make a highschool

I don't read

I'm trying to be u

my humiliation at the garden party

yr so literal baby
it's a poem

Will u write a poem
let me get bak to u

U wanna write a poem
I'll write back

U hve so pretty u mut feel good all the time
I never

my fake penis keeps releasing little bits of pee for my clothes

look at the angry men in the zoo
how can u be mad about anything man
what words are u thinking of man
in your man head
u think like man
so man
u need new ways of saying u mad man
u so mad man
so mad and then so gentle

So Lonely
and angry

I like all the things you are doing with your face
I like moving my face when it is near your face and your face is also moving

Caucasianfeeling for the at home
kill the uncle
kill the uncle in the day to night
=life
do u identify as a broet
do u know only bros like u

Room share sublet short term no security utltes incld wanted for feb 1
contact max im 35 years old i work at bar am female and enjoy dvr HD and
no over night please be please please please

Saving the woman
save the woman
u r a vat
u r batting
I hate maybself
want expression
expressionism
am I psycho
can anyone tell me
will anyoe help me
can help my sister
what if we watch the mvie help
the help movie
help movi
the help Is a movie
I'm words on paper this is paper
I hate that man
do u hate me
u have money
I will never be squishy w u
u touch me like bullies do
in the help
this is a teen poem
I am writing as an other because I am
nauseausly
Y-ing and X-ing
ad infinitum w a argentine accent
u all baggy now
like be seventeen
alll thirty year olds go away

Lover go away
go away
you r away
go away your love is too long

Which of the words does not belong

Naturally straight
heir tumbling
me silly
Thomas be mean
be mean
hide those cheeks
so early
for me

I've got lots of old
it's all over me
like I ammaggie smith in yr life

U r serious
I am crazy
there is no help for anyone and Boone can see what anyone I'd rcperibdhgzbjcbkc

DIG

I've been digging all night
Digging in the yard
Digging up squirrels
Birds
Treasure
And in the charm of my own sweat
I find you

Redemption

Catching fireflies with tongues

It is said that every kiss is a wish
But when
every wish made has its consequence
I shall never wish again
Not to say I will never kiss again
Just no longer will I close my eyes so tight
No longer will my hearts whisper
Take flight
The angels may pass
In silent delight
Bask in the evervesence

I dwell in a reality based in dream
I sing the lullabuy
Of futures unseen
With my eyes closed tight
I cast my net into the stream
Here on a dock
the night sky shines down on me

Listen to the wind sing
Watch the moon's glow
See a dream fade
Faster than a rainbow
Wish I may
Wish I might
Have the wish I wish tonight
May it be my last
Off lips take flight
a lovers heart beats
Silent in sight

Sent from Samsung mobile

Sunday, January 29, 2012

THE STATION

everybody wants to run
the world, or save it
a lot of blue cars
backed into their spots
ready to bolt for a crime
inside the officers circle
up for roll call, men and women
broad-shouldered in blue
crisp smiles, curt nods
crass jokes, all the severe
preparation for disaster

She stops my tears

Her tears
Happen spontaneously
Daily
Almost like a ritual
A random ritual of my causing
A reminder of my fault
I try to give her my strength
My shoulder
My heart accepts blame that my ego cannot deny
So I allow her to cry
Accept her guilt ridden "i love you"s
When she's caught doing wrong
As much as I hate it
I continue to let her go on
As she wants
As she needs
I allow her to lead me
Out of near insanity.
Because she is what I need
To remain strong.
To stay together
Together we walk hand in hand
We lay
He head in my shoulder
Nestled in the nook of my neck
I hold her like its the last day
Each night
Until she feels safe
And it is okay
For me to let go.

Sent from Samsung mobile

Test

Nerves stuffed into tiny box,

Fission reaction ready to burst.

Test of endurance,

Test for indulgence.

Fence walking

Behind bars he tends to the library

he's built within himself

of things he hopes to feel adequate at.

II.

I've dreamt of you for years:

you and shipping containers,

you and cranes.

There is not enough of you in one place.

Where are you colored spines facing outward?

It is not that you weren't given,

but you didn't hold fast to them.

I fix you a bowl of ice cream from your own freezer

and you emerge from bed.

I am hoping you don't see that the scoops spell out

I am mad

at you

for not wanting life enough.

Maybe you'll hear my voice instead,

hugging you from the side,

we could live together baby,

like real sisters again.

But the fences here are no good for walking.

Giving Up

sleep too long to ever not again
old age red sauce, arm in a sleeve
arm in a sleeve

blueberry binge, sonnet tank head
inevitable enemy, foot in a shoe
foot in a shoe

"Do you remember Peggy?"

Maybe if I saw her (sock grows long,
sock grows long.)

No need to pull up
or adjust, to powder or
protect

arm in a arm in a arm in a shoe shoe shoe shoe shoe

Hitler

I've been watching videos of Hitler
speaking, and reading about his
apartments and lifestyle, and now
I'm sure the FBI is watching me.
The speeches don't get me.
They were only political events.
Hitler was a good speaker, but
ultimately the speech is only
a performance.
I wonder what he thought of himself.

What gets to me is what we share--
every year on my birthday,
there's someone celebrating his.

when i gather my opinions together into a heap they look like something else.

for example, i have a major aversion to the word "blog"

there's a dry stone wall in my heart

you in the swamp

makes me miss a certain mountain

and believing in magic

by the bye bye bayou little brother

maybe i'll see you in springtime

when i am still poor

and you are still poor

but maybe one of us will have picked up the banjo boogie

chromatic insomnia

its all blues

and sea greens

and some other complicated word for it

on some nights, the whole house stays awake

the windows sigh and roll over

the heaters have indigestion

the clocks keep count of every last minute,

but no one talks about it until later.

later, when everything is crimson

the vocabulary is less intimidating.

i improvised these lyrics in a song i wrote today

he's not the man you thought he'd be
he only wants to be what you want to see
and though he tries his best to please
the look you give him never puts him at ease

what do you want from me
i'll try to be what you want me to be
i can do whatever you want me to do

could not invent it poem

some sleepy days, I'll tell you..

I'm serious! they were each carrying a puppet,

and not a small one.

a giant puppet.

around the shut-down fountain, amidst the crowds

In my tired memory colors are already washed out.

but I know at the time they were full, these two lovers, spotted far away.

You could not make a metaphor as vivid as this day:

Those bodies gigantic, as if arrows pointing down

There is a space outside of good or bad, of pain or admiration.

and today I stood there, painty-handed, watching across the crowds

lady liberty and the octopus dancing

In this neutral place there is only charged feeling,

There is not what was or might be, there is only care.

and today I learned, in this place, there is still absurd.

Kenny

When I was 12 I had a crush on Kenny
He worked for my uncle's catering company
We served hors d'oeuvres together at my grandparent's 50th anniversary party.

When I was 13 my uncle took my mom and I shopping for carpets and couches in the Bronx
We gave Kenny a ride upstate
because he got drunk and crashed his car into a line of parked cars
I sat behind him staring at his left tricep on the arm rest
as he spoke to my mom

When I was 25 Kenny had gotten out of rehab
and helped me move into my new apartment in Soho
We joked about how filthy my mattress was
as I tried not to think about from where each stain had come

When I was 26 my mom told me that Kenny was in the hospital
because he overdosed on crystal meth
My uncle visited him once before he washed his hands clean
Kenny is on his own now.

When I was 13 I joined track
and watched Kenny Smith run laps around his opponents
the fastest runner, the fastest mile
I had ever seen

When I was 24 I began my first teaching job
and I met a paraprofessional named Kenny B.
who worked with Robert who had crutches
and chased after 6'7 boys named Demetrius who chased after 5 foot boys named Sean Neblett
Kenny B. had to be the one to try to stop it
as Demetrius lifted Sean into the air
and dropped him
Kenny B. would sit in the back writing his screenplay,
as Robert sat at his desk scribbling his notes,
hoping to get the play sold
so his life could be more than
following around kids who haven't figured out what they need to do to pass

When I was 26 Kenny B. hugged me goodbye
as I left my first teaching job behind

When I was 26 I started my second teaching job
and this is where I met Kenny Naughton,
a student who told me he couldn't write a short story
about zombies
but could write anything about vampires

When I was 27 I wondered when I would see my uncle's friend Kenny again

#6

can she sew? can she sew the right way? can she make me a dress? can i hold on to it?

how this is not about food and girls in massachusetts

or - the touch the feel of things i like is enough but not to be let alone.

LALENE (FOR KINZUA)

I like to think of you out on dates
in New York City, running into
other dates, also out on dates.

My dispatch is:
here it’s not
quite that.

Though yesterday I molded
a shallow pumpkin scone, yellow
instead of orange,

heard old forgotten harmony
as the flour fell
the sift.

The house felt like
a ship about to topple, bamboo at
the window, blowing,

even as my mom tried out
something on piano,
first time since I’ve been home.

I read your story early this morning,
one long breath
seasoned with your signatures.

At some point past, I know
we all had a picture
of how we would become,

tiger girl running towards
the campfire, adults in houses,
full on light and yogurt.

Boss

Years later,

we seemed to cross paths

inside the Virgin business class lounge.

I should have said hello.

Whatever.

I was out of it.

I thought I had swine flu.

I like to talk about how I first did coke with you.

How you met a lawyer online and

had a sadomasochistic relationship with him.

Years before,

it was playful enough.

But I think something deep seated and spiteful

reared up

when you passed me that dog suit

and instilled in me the nature

of hard work.

My mum did that already

with a stupid hospital laundry job.

Covered in shit.

Thanks a bunch, mum.

I once cleaned encrusted milk product off the pipes

of a dairy.

Thanks,

BUNCH!

You could have had me scraping gum off the floor,

or kicking the professors back into line.

I mean, anything really.

Do you know how I made it look like

I was doing overtime?

More fool you!

I was glumly looking at porn.

Hmm.

P- Jon B

Sacked

Upended

Tortoise

Full

Eggnog

Intuit

Escarpment

Fresh t-shirt

Condensation

Future remittance

Uncertainty

Percocet

Finishing sweat the

Morning stopped

I love

My empath

Ooh.

Need the stalls!

one step after another leads me forward

wishing is nothing more
than your mind holding regrets
did you say the right thing
did you do the right thing
what are the ramifications of your choices

so wishing aint no good
if you want to move forward
moving forward
means never looking back

so why do i live a lie of saying im moving forward
when i honestly feel like ive left something behind
how can i move forward when my kids whom ive
protected, nutured, taught, laughed with, cried with
are soooo far apart
they no longer have the comfort of one another to shield they're hurts
and im the cause of that gap, a phone call is simply not enough
when they've had sooo much more

but i have to keep moving forward else ill be grounded to this static form of life
where movement is merely prostrating and standing praying that things will work out for the best
things will be how i determine them to be because i have no more room for waiting for them to work out on theyre own...

#5

rosy rosy rosy rosy, fluttery clean along under the arms

still day like a secretly higher or lower elevation

daisies on the lamps, scarf thingies on the mirrors, calm cooped nothing else this room danger roses only cup

widening means less compulsory meaning, less responsibility, more responsibility more fabric and communication

----- of gold glass water lump new enough to show everybody with trembling hands

how do you say
hello im still in this
im still dug in
working relentlessly
to get back to the beginning
to when we first began this dance

dressed in my finest
holding an orchid
waiting for my partner
to come close
waiting for the lights to dim
so its just the two of us
dancing in the dark

we never planned or knew
where we were headed
just that we were headed there together
my hands clasped around your waist
i can still feel your heart beating
against my chest
i can still feel your breath along my neck

but these are just memories
so here i sit
waiting to dance again

2nd verse of recover your mouth

you're a young lion, lion, lion lobotomy

follow me back to my crib if u wanna get top of me

(top or bottom b?) i slyly suggest sodomy

fuck you harder than like playing the lottery

there's a lotta me, i think your mama

and your father'd be sick at the thought of me,

don't talk girl you bother me—

i solemnly swear not to solder the bottom

while the circuit is on, ay, yo

shut the fuck up you big dummy!

That same lady keeps talking, all class long

blah blah blah,

"what I am wondering is...."

tight finger, pushing out in my chest

"I felt..."

Shut up!

we giggled, shook our heads, and said,

"no way, no way"

Fuck this

(For my sister)

There is boldness is there

slipping through the cracks

the space between the lung and heart

or is it underneath the liver, and out the arm

you kicked the boy down the street

shaking in the hall

"that's not acceptable"

fuck that

more than acceptable

I'm shrinking in this room

my toes are pushing through

your head made this chip in my tooth!

Storming down the block

unfolding, we grow on

Saturday, January 28, 2012

little chunks

I love being inside of a bull.

I date a train, like. He won't quit.

In a dream, my terror rips by. A breeze slits me.

Cold mammals handle me

and lose my almonds.

my apartment is bumbled up with boxes,

nearly packed.

Post-surgery, I crutched up twenty stairs

with Jon guiding my back.

He hurt me in bed in all ways,

like a sorrowful dog rollerskating over a frozen pond,

but time warmed us. The pond's melted up. Chunky.

And sweetheart's graceful on his wheels,

tongue out, a pro now, top dawg.

driving home

At 65 miles per hour
it’s easy to lose track of time
and place, phone on the seat
beside me, headset plugged, I am
multi-tasking, I am productive, I go down
my list. Suddenly I swerve
suddenly I want to call my mother
I want a simple call I want
it more than I want anything. I remember instantly
the reality, that we cannot speak, my brain
has made a heartbreaking mistake.
My eyes well, I stay
in my lane, careening forward
I make no more calls.
No one tells you
you will still forget death
after four years.

highway out the window
like a river, flowing
since when did civilization become
reassuring. we could all probably
benefit from some anonymity
to remember where I start
and you end.

Matinee and Dinner with Steffie, age 64

(i pull my companion into The Berkeley Dog, we order, and talk about "Hugo" -

Steffie wonders why the boy carried the automaton wrapped like a big baby doll)

He carried it like it was a baby doll! A boy with a baby doll!

My mother didn't let me have any toys

I couldn't have a doll, the china heads would break.

I didn't have friends, I looked in the sun in elementary school.

It made me fall over, and I have been sick ever since, ma'am.

Do you want honey mustard? It is sweet but i like it with this garlic.

I thought the popcorn was dinner, so this is dinner after dinner

You ate all that without any coke? You can't refill it without you pay again.

(i get up and refill her soda cup and wave at the cashier)

You didn't get in trouble. Everwhere I go, i get yelled at.

(i suggest that we go lots of places together and she doesn't get yelled at)

I get yelled at. The lady with the dog yelled at me.

(this is old fodder, untrue, and i cut it short -

i propose we shop online for a wonderful baby doll without a china head)

Mother won't let me have it. They have an aquarium in Georgia that has lionfish.

It is one of those, those, from a pet store, and they let them out in the ocean.

(Invasive species? mmmm, maybe the lungfish?)

Yes, it is a invasive fish. It is a lionfish. They don't live in America.

I like 'em! - laughs - They should stay in their aquarium!

(her laugh is infectious)

I don't know why they put 'em in the ocean! We don't have lions in America!

And on

Crawling sea-wise and scarling,
she could be a mud doctor:
ashen, blind, earthy.

We are China bound, and don't dream of impeding,
the inchworms, the locusts.

Cherry Hill

We dreamed of being older,
rubbing the lye on our skin and in our hair
running down the hill from the outhouse
to show the grownups,
hoping somewhere in there they might act like them.

brief

a time
i wish
could be longer
but feels like
forever
and forever ago

shuttered

let the world see
that i am a good person

where is the window
i want to open
so the world can see me
and i can get back to you

cat moves

new places
no faces
but the one i know

he keeps me because
i love him

New York Desert Narrative

link

sand stretch, desert deep

bridge

how did i get here if...

road

who do i know

who is not looking

to comedy

for help

one last noble thing

Not a librarian. I am not a gardener.

Bleecker Bob's is closing. Nothing connects.

Silencio oh no

my fear is more powerful
than my words
I had too many words
to say to you
so I froze

we hate each other
BYE NOONE!

BEE SEE SEE

i wonder when id be seeing you mr potter
BUTTER MELLOW
HUT HUT
DELITTLE
ALOHAMORA
ONA
butter mellow
huthut
delittle
alohamora
ona
PERHAPS THIS

472
2nd Place
nother year
2ND!

472
2nd place
nother year
2nD!

472
2nd place
nother year
2nd

472
2nd place
nother year
2nd

sunshine

sunshine

sunshine

472
2nd place
nother year
2nd

472
2nd place
nother year
2nd

u dont like me
u look down on me
why do u spend time with me
those ppl dont exist no more
i liked it
tody
kind of
but feel
sad
so lonely is everuyone

aloneness

i miss u
someone i nevcer knew

'i swim
after
you swim

shiny sound
come back

shiny person
go away

happy anniversary!

To-do's and What

I am not thinking of my father and what to do about him.

evolutionary tale

Your soup was so delicious last night,

that tonight I made it myself!

But I added a turnip

and some purple cabbage

and some quinoa

and I switched out cayenne for those smoky whole hot peppers

oh yeah, and we didn't have a squash, so I used a sweet potato

though this is hardly your recipe anymore, in retrospect.

It was delicious, and in my kitchen, it is named after you.

cooling

I can't read what it says in a gulp,

can't make heads nor tails of it.

I can't know if I can unscrew a baton

and pop a few things in it, can't tell,

is it appropriate?

To open up a baton and

weigh it down with stuff,

just so you know it's there?

That it is something,

that I wouldn't take nothing,

that I didn't run on (with) nothing,

that I know endless circling is not

perpetual motion,

that it puts nothing in our mouths.

Unnaturally smoothed faces,

smoothing all over me.

Myself, somewhat contained, not smoothing over.

Not given to smoothing.

Raspberries, ripples, earnest, undeniable.

It works for me and if I could be the first cipher,

then great.

But I'm the other-

uncomplicated, stood aside,

the will of a will to please.

FRIDAY NIGHT DATE NIGHT

Fight like chickens over beans,
and juice, and cereal, pecking different bits –

Full on it, long before the meal,
fight like crows, inch-hopping on the sill

Peer in, little face
twisted towards those comrade clowns

They want trouble,
or strong drinks,

The work is body heavy,
for family, city, just cash

Hard hurting spheres that rise up winter skin,
then show themselves in pigment

All motion work is this, so
prepare

And I'll take that fresh ice kiss, or maybe just
someone else’s shift -

Fine Birds

"My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, gathered my bones
Tied them in silk,
For the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird am I!"
-Brothers Grimm

some remains lie buried
in the south
some sit on a window shelf
in a favorite room closeby

the birds
adorn my skin
they have seeped into my bloodstream
as planned

we continue on our journey
i have grown huge
thanks to you

Obligation

Quiet excitement when mother announces it is too hot to stay home,

Run into my room to change and prepare for an unknown adventure,

Summer sun welcomed through the skylight despite its fierceness,

Will it be the Auburndale library, McDonald's down the block, or Roosevelt Field mall?

The head has already taken all three trips before the socks are on,

The naturalness of my only obligation renders it unnoticeable.

White sheets as my only shield against time,

Hide under to peek back with less disdain than yearning,

For that unproductive and soul-filling laziness.

Jan 28

How is edgar

He is dead, laura.

You can read about in the papers

Two blocks from here

Three years ago

Two weeks ago the jury was hung

Kris met him at the movies in Seattle and he was your lover for years

His loveliness.

yo no quiero mi amor

Venga a conocer a mi familia,
él dice.
bailar conmigo
No sea tímido
Pueda comer? su tío le pregunta
No.
Pero yo puedo
que no nos gusta la misma comida

Come meet my family,
he says.
Dance with me
Don't be shy
Can she cook? His uncle asks
No.
But I can
We just do not like the same food.

Te amo a ella?
No me ama a ella.
¿Me amas?
Yo no te amas.

And that's the way it is.

Un condamné à mort s'est échappé

Bonjour Jost
my new friend,
once thought to be my enemy
we escaped together
and i forgave you even when
you forgot our shoes
and to think
i could have killed you
et j'ai failli ne vous tuer

Friday, January 27, 2012

Genuflection

Taking a knee, taking it for granted

and just taking it.

Reckoning with efficiency,

rote dissection - inabilities.

Not knowing how to believe or when

it is time to stop believing about things

like making people interested about doing things

in groups.

Dump

There is already an acre of everything

the form of the thing is begin again, but why?

Take instead what's there: plastic, boot, floorboard

that instead of everything, of the form of the thing is

begin again

I'm so exhausted by my shoes; an acre of shoes

a new thing to exhaust the acre

depletion through more, more

I work in a school about things

this school is about things, they said

do you want to work here?

The form of the thing is over and over

plastic, boot, floorboard

I'm 27 now, an acre of things, do you want to work?

Yes I said, but I'm not doing it right

what's there (plastic)

What's THERE, plastic?

Car ride with the elderly

Nice to meet you..
How old is she?
Aaw.. Jusy cute as a button
And where did you live in new york?
Oh.. We lived in long island.
Manhattan was too much
and how old is she?
Just two?
Man she's big, that's good
Sure is a beautiful day today.
how's the weather back east?
I bet it's hell..
My husband was a fireman
Over twenty years.
And how old is she?
Oh she's so good
Hasn't said a word
So quiet she is
What do you buy at Sam's Club?
Thats a lot of toilet paper
Lasts a long time huh?
We should shop there honey
Did you have a good afternoon?
So well behaved
How old is she?

Sent from Samsung mobile

Umbra

It settles during the night

and quietly goes about the business of

becoming a bitter fruit.

This shrewd sapling does not want to float boats

nor does it really care.

It grows slow

is unmoved by everything

will cast us all aside.

It is unmolested by radar

a pygmy doubt of the day

in deep cover at night

gone rogue by morning.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

staying up

this one goes out

to the costume designer

who feeds her dog valerian root

so he calms down on the subway ride to work

i told you how

valerian root never works

for me, i have a big bottle and it

doesn't do a damn thing

i didn't want

to say how much i like

taking ambien and writing poetry

so i told you how melatonin sort of worked for me

and then i thought:

oh my god, i used to take

melatonin and now i like to take

ambien because i can't sleep—am i really okay?

a summing up

strapped in paratrooper's mind wanders dimly

my last thoughts on this earth this could all be

what it is and i was rushed into this

and i, it's unexpected, this

and i, propelled unto this.

and strapped in mind admits defeat sadly,

that it is the job of other minds to reduce the sum of a person to its parts

during prolonged absence, chiding the lean years

we become so stressed

and it is always over exits.

knowing where I am (occupy poem from the office of dues-paying radical jews)

for the rest of the meeting, I look down at my paper.

once I've said that I can't step up. that I'm already full.

full with what? full of what?

this movement is elusive or is it just ineffective.

to sit at this meeting where there's a plan to hatch. a campaign, and steps.

and say I don't have time because I am exploring, idealistically

with hundreds of others but without this clarity, these resources, this common ground.

I wish Marjorie would want to reach out to be my mentor.

She says she has three things to say to me, but they must not be that urgent,

because she doesn't make the time to say them. I know it's late.

There is some critique crystallizing, slowly,

you know, about organizing around identity politics?

about "you understand, of course, how important it is to have organizational structures

that pay dues"

and it is.

I am quibbling back at the slow sliding weight of that bigger critique

served out as us.

and the decision I've already made

to say me and feel us

to hear us and think me

I think that I am making good choices, but I know I don't know

as much as you.

there's a place for me, here- and for you, where I go.

the things the world could not do if there wasn't youth, if there wasn't ignorance, if there wasn't naivete.

Intermezzo

There are two lines
that go together.
The other voices,
present of course,
but these two lines
are the focus.

I feel as though I am listening better and more deeply than ever before.
It's a fugue, now. That's always tickled my ear but I'm finally able to hear it.

All the violence of my being, where others are concerned, is located in 1) laughter and 2) trying to force other people to understand things I think are beautiful for the reasons I do.

All the violence of my being, where I am concerned, is located in 3) magical unrealistic thinking about love and 4) trying perversely to perfect myself before the arrival of my "twin."

The search for a tolerable reflection has taken up so much of my time that I've missed a lot of other points, like: The two lines aren't the same line, though they're complementary by design.

As regards the magical thinking, I appreciate, finally, the joy in the desolation of this piece, which is where poignancy comes in. Poignancy--now I get poignancy. Thanks.

potatoes sometimes

Potatoes are red,

the color of rust,

the color of dirt, sometimes.

My Selfish World

This nameless being inside has been starved all day,

But now it feasts

On the absence of nauseating stimulation,

And for dessert, no social obligations,

Paired with many glasses of no clothes.

The rhythm of my heart in sync with the tick of the wall clock,

Greatest disturbance is none other than fingers on black keys,

Cross-legged and nude to admire books papers mags on the floor,

Windows shut, shades pulled, doors locked, all borders secured.

This world is mine alone,

Buoyed by a richness not to be shared,

Delay the coming morning on which I must leave it,

to enter and tolerate the other.

DIMENSIONAL VOWS

That’s what you try,
in tandem,
transcend
the itching point.
Or sow some peace
beneath your branches
when they begin to wilt.
But who among
will be enough?
Who’s hair as black
as anything?
Remember – oiled city-braids
shone fancy
in the basement light,
the dandelion-down across
his forehead,
hens gathered
at the love-in.

Like mother, like daughter

We left in tears
To arrive
To the same
It's a wonder how
We mirror each other
32 years
& 3000 miles apart.
Sent from Samsung mobile

big morning

If technology were ever a separate thing from

these things our bodies do

it would be disproven by that lump,

bubbled in the upwards anus of

the space where the toilet

connects to the floor,

where my landlord called me to look,

seemingly just to take in the visual with him.

mumbled something about hydration, looking down,

just a foot past where nutrient becomes public property,

stops serving our body and gets whisked away.

Today I saw it all in our bathroom upstairs:

constipation in our mechanical mirror,

all systems are fragile, they get stopped up.

Silly is not the opposite of serious.

and I'm serious, houseguest, that was gross.

This only complicates the feeling of

the time we stayed up all night talking about race and god, and

the night you kept telling me that I was a genius.

I love good hearts ands strange people, and

there is no plain evidence that this was you, but

what the fuck did you do to our plunger

and how did our toilet get so FULL?

Late

I.

late in life my mother told me
she counted sheep
but sometimes that didn't even help

II.

i dreamt i was on a 747
moving through a thick blanket of cloud
you were waiting for me on the other end
but we weren't going to make it

III.

now i know that you are just on a different jet
moving through a different blanket towards me
and that we will both land safely one day
in eachothers presence

IV.

i work hard these days
these nights i work harder

V.

the veil is sheer
the veil is impenetrable

VI.

all of my nightmares came true
i have nothing left to be afraid of

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

NO, IT IS NOT ENOUGH

OH NO!

IT IS NOT OVER!

IT IS NOT ENOUGH

IT ISN'T OKAY

IT'S NOT RIGHT

LIKE DAT TYGER TYGER

BURNING BRIGHT

DO NOT GO GENTLE

IN2 DAT NITE

NO IMMORTAL POEM

4 DOSE GOOD STRIPES

CO2 NAH

JUST 01 DAS RITE

OOPS ITS DARK OUT

SUNZ IN FLITE

DAT TYGER POEM

IS JUST BOUT LITE

but a bulb burns brightest before dying

every moment before i die of carbon monoxide poisoning

the alarm is broken

every moment i am saying:

"this is okay. this is enough."

i am drinking with max after rehearsal, and it's enough

i am calling samuel about doing music together and it's enough

i am talking to carl about girls—enough

i am talking with my parents for the first time in two weeks,

and now for the last time ever, and it is enough

i am wishing my brother, happy 34th, it's enough

i am recording, almost completely finishing the best version of my best song

and zach has the files, so this is enough

i am writing a death poem online for my friends

it is enough

slack as wk

Unbelievableqi
It's new years day
A v a Mari
TwP elephants,
Talking to NFC
BI can stop lollim
Yes he su
Mmmmm
Well I xoulxxt
That's ok
Watch it cone bac
Aquaan
Tosses wb

You mace have w I think rather guy in the new next to me is excited

The A aa sybarite in my room has totally given himself

Over to the pursuit of tugging perfection into a shoe of his choice he sounds perfect

i mean i has a crush on you too, sometimes

like this:

"we don't have to cry because we're in love with [him]"

"yeah we do, sometimes—"

mad at you

trying to be mad at you

trying to make you mad

trying to provoke reaction

trying to kiss you

trying to play game

trying to you

trying you

try you

crying roy orbison

rapping with your friends

kissing a friend

kissing your ex girlfriend

boasting in a poem

barfing in the subway

smelling vomit in the subway

being vomit in the subway

being a girl

being a girlfriend

being a bass player

blowjobs at bar mitzvahs

AIITE BABY

THIS IS AN ART PIECE I MADE CALLED

LIKE PORNSTARS KISSING

IT IS DEDICATED TO THE OWNERS OF YOUPORN
MEGAUPLOAD, MEGADOWNLOAD

AND PORNUPLOAT

this is an art piece called,

o carolee

and it is dedicated to carolee schneeman

who reminds me of kendra

THIS is an art piece called

Bed Piece (2012)

and it is not dedicated to anyone

not even tehching hsieh,

because nobody helped,

nobody gave me any ideas

nobody helped me write the grants and secure funding

nobody helped me engineer it, nobody else

designed the circuit boards nobody

nobody nobody nobody

NOBODY HELPED ME PERFORM IT

I DID IT ALL MYSELF SO GO FUCK YOURSELF & YOUR ATOM BOMB

I WANT TO KILL YOU, TAO LIN

WITH MY HEHE