Sunday, January 23, 2011

everything inside is made of stone

saying it is easy.
i map out a year from
intention , my closed self
a bouquet of so many reasons to go.

i saw you on a friday my love
pressed between hunger and night
wearing familiar pieces of past
fingers flicking the space between
we occupied
a glass of beer, intermittent pulls from another cigarette.

i trace my memory over you, the grey shape you are
flawless i look for ways to forget
to pick your dark edges with fingernails
crisp cover of healed

i am
in your hands, a fresh wound at the ready.
show me how
to peel away permanent.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011


cursed, she said. her palm open near my chin
her eyes on me groping
the grey bruised pear seated in her pink satin window.

all ears for the cause
i placed my two hundred dollars to the right of her fingertips
yes i said, nodding, the tears warm
a body living
with two first fingers i hear myself pointing

a curse, i nod
my mouth pressing the blame around it
like twenty minutes twice a week
i wear my willing , my take me
topstitched to gold ribbon on my hip

like three rings of
everything gone wrong.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011


a small grey stone in a pond, i watch a year
stretch itself closed, without heavy sighs
       nor early morning
            intoxications as delusion.

instead, i
turn to my green ghost self
collecting smoke in her familiar way
grasping the pen to resolve
with both hands.