prayer bead

the wind plucks my teeth out to make
a wild flower field. haven't you ever 
rolled your life into a marble & carried it,
searching for a tongue to put it on?
all the cherry pits i've swallowed without their flesh.
prayer is sweet until it is not. until it is
hard & knotted. until the gods walk down your throat
looking for a place to be blameless. to be children again. 
i have a jar of lady bugs i could use for eyes 
if i wanted to see the world i want to see. i'm told
to speak as if everything has already come to pass. 
truly, we are only on the first thumb. i shed my eyes. 

translucence 

i used to be a whole. maybe not in this life
but in others. i stood for a portrait 
& a painter made a butterfly bush of me.
color coming in tongues. oil paint. dried plums.
i have given up all joy i found in being tangible.
now, i crave a tracing paper life. skin swims with shrimp.  
frosted winter windows. i keep only a finger in this world 
& all the rest in the next. forfeit my shadow.
i wake up early so i can hold my phantom hours. 
move about the house. a centipede. a moth.
find myself in the front lawn. cars pass &
their headlights walk right through me.

once, i was a story

eat the rind of my hero cycle.
i want to be saved at the end of journey.
the man who wrote this lived inside a cave 
inside a cave & believed he was conjuring odyessy.
wrote monsters down my throat & a mother
with a stomach full of pendulums. i emerge patchwork word. 
landscapes turn into men. outside of mouth, i am nothing
but a jellyfish's fears. footfalls on a dark moon.
trust me when i say i have tried to make it to flyleaf. 
to a grape leaf conclusion. but the sun keeps falling 
in the glass of milk. guadrians find more thresholds 
for me to be birthed by. women in lakes are always mine. 

diving board

i want to approach strangers & ask, 
"where are you putting your grief?"
does anyone else feel as urgent as i do?
if i had a patch of dirt i would dig & dig
until i was deep in marrow. then, i would
fill that hole with water. kill an angel 
to christen the pool. construct a diving board
hanging over the lip. jagged tooth. my reflection, 
a spattered bird. i crave something real to dangle above.
each day, the ocean asks more & more questions.
when you be an animal again? why don't you weep? 
how will you survive? i have no answers. 

saddlemaker 

the horse was a dream of fatherhood.
of who becomes who & who is ridden into noise.
animal to animal, i am only holding on
by the stirrups. dragged for years 
along the orange dirt road. i see card games
in strangers' eyes. ants march, hands full
of urns. they are headed towards a highway. 
he used to tell me to get on all fours
to make a place for him to put up his feet.
pounding leather. pounding skin. roses in detail work.
holy horn. i was the wooden model he shaped each saddle on. 
i gave him his manhood. he gave me mine. 

harness 

i want to be walked on all fours
into a valley of greased diamonds.
here, craving is carved into tongue.
i drink water from a dead angel's throat.
you, above me. chandelier. world. wheel. 
my bringer of nectar & dead stars.
tell me who i am & i will step
into the river of your voice. please,
put this harness on me tight. your fingers move
across a buckle. i need to be pressed into my life. 
strapped into my body to keep me from disobeying. 
until you came, i was gone.

accidental caramel after midnight

i put on my shadow clothes & try not to die.
night makes a courier of me.
i deliever to myself all the words i do not want.
you asked for this body. you puppet 
your own sadness. i do or else i am not sure i do.
where do you have to put yourself to hear truth?
i have catacombs & wind tunnels.
all week, my darkness has grown thick & sweet. 
i never meant to be this staircased. 
everything i need is in the attic. is behind the moon. 
is etched onto glass. i find the thinnest tree
to duck behind. there, eat fingers one by one until dawn. 

strangulation poem

i drive boys to their friends house. midnight.
boys tell me they love me. boys buy me anything i want. 
no that's a lie. they don't. but in a dream, they do 
& i am worshipped. boys burn the house down. i forgive boys. 
boys put their hands on me. boys turn me into a chicken. 
boys pluck me. i used to think i was boys but i am not boys. 
if i was boys then how could i love boys? boys eat in bed. 
boys tell me i can't get enough. i am drowning in boys.
boys' knuckles tighten. i put my foot to boys' chests. boys
are always trying something new. i am always something new.
boys carve their name in my dormroom wall. i thank boys
even though i am not thankful. boys go & will be back. 

the spoon archive

i remember when i lifted myself to your lips
inside a wooden ladel. tonight, i put the sun
& the moon in a blender. drink contradiction.
hope to fall in love again. here is the spoon
i used to burry my faith in rebirth.
here is the hole in the yard that leads 
to a colony of silver. with the smallest spoon
i once had a friend scoop out my pupil
to be used as a scrying mirror. i thought
if i could not see the throat of the monster, 
i could survive. wrong wrong wrong. find my skeleton 
in the yard. i could unearth it but i don't. i leave it. 

remote control

the bees nest television 
is full of breaking news. basinettes 
for microphones. i no longer talk into mirrors. 
there are dolls in the control room
on the other side. when i say someone is always watching 
i mean the refridgerator is a garden of eyes. 
blink three times if you can hear me. 
when my hand moves without instructions
i pretend i am a puppet for an audience of piranhas. 
click a button & the road kill deer comes back to life. 
another rerun. i tell the bones, "let's try this again." 
they turn static & i get bored of it all.