a prayer to holy arsenic-- poisoned pancakes, glue-trap matresses and other ways to exterminate the humans the trick is to get them early-- in the weak morning of winter when they are still baking themselves into the kitchen-- burn the night in sugar cookie crumbs and don't believe the smell of pine cones-- humans will take you house down shingle by shingle if you let them-- they overturn a winter and pray the mice away in arsenic-- my father contorted in the corner of the basement-- a knot of darkened skin and saliva thick with blood-- we asked if he had eaten from the dishes of the humans and all he could say was of course of course of course this is the mice's prayer to the white and baby powdered hands of arsenic-- make me a host of the poison and i'll tell them it's Jesus-- that's all the humans want anyway-- a savior-- a way to keep the mice from the warm cement of the basement-- our children know nothing of what it would be like to eat without fear-- we sleep with the image of our father coiled in the basement-- begging for enough water to wash the rat poison from his body-- come with me we'll harvest their gods-- collect poison to give back-- a fist full of poison to add to the pancake batter in the fridge-- the little ones did not sleep well and they asked what humans looked like when they died-- i had hoped they would look like my father did in the basement-- or all our tails caught frantic in the long beds of glue-- i wanted them to have to sleep like that too-- try to lift their head only to see the walls were turning into mice-- mice feet mice tails-- mail whiskers to bristle on the their faces-- it is true we should not poison the humans-- our mother said especially not after you father died like a shadow of blood in the corner-- instead, while the sun was still on dying batteries, we made them chairs of glue-- chairs and bed and sofa and tables and banisters-- a world of glue traps-- smashed the pancake mix against the kitchen floor like a firework-- next jam jars and the human's vessels for wine-- the floor a collage of our worship of poison-- we knew what god looked like even if the humans didn't-- the house woke up in paralysis-- in faces towards ceilings-- unmoved and watching-- trapped like our tails-- a scream bubbled in the throat of the sun-- what did the humans learn about the basement? i would assume they believe it was the arsenic and not the mice peeling our shadows off the basement wall where we had died-- mouths full of poison-- feel cut with raspberry jam and wine glass.
Uncategorized
02/10
river bank of dandy lions and how we remember each others names when we die. i'd like to set a plan now. i'd like to know where to meet you when everything else is over and the sky falls away like a wooden backdrop-- sit with me and paint an evergreen forest-- cut Christmas trees from paint swatches-- turquoise and mauve and the raspberry tint we were trying to decided what color was best to paint over the rain forest in my bedroom-- i had decided i wanted a more grown up place to sleep-- there's no sleep in a rain forest clearing or in the snapped finger throats of the frogs-- run your hands under the fountain-- wash your face before we eat-- last supper of spearmint leaves and onion grass bulb-- i'd like to set a plan now so you know how to find me-- so you know how to remember our names-- when we die i want you to find a feather-headed dandy lion-- blow downy into snow into kitten beard into windowsill frost into root beer foam and follow wherever it escapes to-- at first it will fall to the earth but you have to be patient-- the manes of the dandy lions have been going to the same place all these years-- there sits a river bank where the shore sides are built of every wish we ever made ourselves or each other-- dig hang fulls of perhaps of yearning of desire to sleep with your name in my mouth wake up in the woven fingers of a God fist-- when did our skin become a pillow to sleep on? dig in the dandy lion wishes with me-- eat feathers-- lay back and measure a 1/4 cup of the wishes to make the clouds-- send me a signal you're here too-- and i'll find you-- i'll find you in the static fizzle of dead people television and i'll know you remembered us-- maybe i will have too-- and when i find you there feed me a teaspoon of lion mane wishes-- drink the bitter milk of their necks you'll laugh and say it always seemed so hard to forget someone's name who you love but oh how it turned out so easy-- just remember that when you can't think of anything else that at least you can-- measure out a cloud and i'll come find you i'll come find out-- save me a raspberry evergreen tree-- paint over the rain forest-- sleep in the throat of a frog.
02/09
instructions for keeping yourself safe when you walk home tonight 1. trust your instincts learn how to tell which side of the street you're a slut on-- this is where you stand because it is better to know what they will call you than to be caught off guard-- if the street lamp turns into a silhouette of cobra-- trust your instincts and don't acknowledge him-- he'll only want more attention-- you know how a whore carries a book bag-- don't hold yourself like that-- if the stop lights bleed the sidewalk red-- whose fault was it for walking there-- 2. walk in groups whenever possible at least in a bunch of grapes you have less of a chance of being eaten-- the emperor likes his ladies all together so he has the best to choose from-- you can each watch a different street lamp-- remind each other not to look too scared even though sometimes the trees start to look like men who've touched you-- yes we all have had a man who touched us like a crosswalk-- when we walk together what will they call us? a pack? a herd? a murder? a murder of moonlights where we held each others shoes-- 3. be aware of your surroundings you already know the street lamp is a snake-- is a boa is ready to tighten around your torso-- make love out of asphalt-- you know what it's like to be held down and kissed like a stick of gum in a crack on the sidewalk-- be aware of the telephone wires-- they have a tendency of falling and electrocuting the resilience out of our bones-- we become the hum of the Septa bus-- the shifting cyclops of a stop light-- be aware of your own legs and what they're asking for-- you left yourself so bare-- 4. keep your charged cell phone with you make a phone call to God and ask him to unsex you here-- out out damn legs dam breasts damn sweatpants body that asked to me called your fuck-toy we've solicitated the attention of boys and car tire and window-- this is where i was born from-- i'll call my father so he can hear my real names-- "Little dyke-- oh yeah you know i want you" "Oh yes-- oh yes i like it" yes tell me again-- somehow you knew that all our middles names are slut 5. But not to worry No physical confrontations or injuries occurred, and we do not have any reason to believe these incidents were related. it doesn't count if you unbutton my jeans with your mouth-- this is what we asked for-- oh yes-- we wanted this-- we've always wanted this we were trained for this-- learned to grant you permission to pull off our shirts with your tongues-- lick this little dyke on the street corner-- the stop light saw my injuries-- saw my broken knees and the cobra draw blood-- stay still in the headlights so it doesn't see you breathing-- we have no reason to believe that the consistent dehumanization of the marginalized body has anything to do with a culture where it is easier to tell us what side of the street makes us deserving of the window poetry than tell the boys it's not their job to call us by the names we already know we all our we know we're slut we're dyke-- your mama-- your open-window orgasm on a Friday night-- we already knew these names we were born with them.
02/08
Steele baby dig me a new arm vein. i stole the keys to the excavator this morning-- poured diesel into sleeping mouths-- we dreamed of smog & a kiss-- forehead of ash wednesady & coal-- i was always a charcoal nude-- soot laden-- devil spin-- i leave you hands stained from the last time you fucked me into a page-- today i taught myself the controls for the machinery-- black seated queen-- i road an elephant who cried metal-- cried teeth of soil-- cried rocks for her children to eat-- she's hungry enough to take what i give her-- she won't listen to the boys anymore-- she knows babies only feel like swallowed stones-- heavy & carried to the pit-- we devour the murk of dawn before the construction workers arrive-- we don't want their boots inside us-- their fists of dirt & yellow shirts sink all of us to the silt-- what do you know about a river mouth? the delta-- the Nile-- the basket we left our babies in this rush of blood dig & dig & dig myself a new vein-- the core was only another river for us to drop our boots into-- that's what i'm doing i'm digging myself a new vein in the front yard-- slice the grass-- i'm playing with BOY TOYS-- playing-- little God with the gnarled teeth of the elephants-- the hippo feet stomped through the mud & when it starts to rain i mistake my blood for your blood for your rain for the needle working it's way-- knitting a vile of blood to tell me it's only my brain trying to cut itself open-- have you ever breathed loud enough to be a river mouth? drank enough blood to be a rusting elephant-- oh this vein i dug at least it's mine before the men come in the morning to bring their boots their boots inside me-- let's dig these new veins clean-- save our blood in lava lamps for the doctors new tests to find us hysterical--mechanical again.
02/07
link tails with me by the florescent billboards on the reef-- my poetry was neon in the brain coral i was looking for someone to hold seahorse tails with me-- someone to entangle with so i don't get caught in the current of another stop light-- anchor me to the sun poised in another billboard-- sell me Cola-Cola-- break off chunks of staghorn while you try to hold yourself steady-- this is when you learn the coral has blood-- not like your or mine-- but it breathes like the walls of skyscraper at night-- mouth full of humans-- do you ever dream about humans cities? i'd like to travel to new york if i could keep holding onto your tail-- i imagine you'd take me ice skating-- encircle me-- toss the skates over a telephone wire to claim this street make courtship of a night moon-- drape the skates over a telephone wire-- the curb oscillates like a sea pea & you tell me you read about M & Ms from past the neon follicles of the anemone-- drop coins to the clowns in white-orange on the corner-- hold onto me hold onto me lover-- the reef is a car horn-- a preened magazine next to us on the subway-- what do humans eat other than color? i have heard so much about central park-- you'll have to take me there-- i ve heard they grow coral the size of billboards-- roots crack asphalt crack trenches crack abyss crack giant squid nightmare where you let go of my tail & i fall victim to a newspaper-- wrapped in headline or headlight or whatever else we make of this city-- lover-- god gave us tails so we could pretend there was something to hold onto-- tie each other to a stop light-- read the billboards to me like poetry-- advertise to me baby-- i want to buy love like a Twizzler-- drink in the curves of your neck like the popped tab of a can of Sprite-- in the city the water tastes like carbonated sugar-- how did you sleep before you found me? i didn't it's more to do with the coral bleeding than it has to do with all the lights-- you get used to the lights-- i'm pulling lights from the pool cues of your eyes-- i'd mistake you for a eight ball-- if we had teeth we could crack the blue candy coral Caulastrea clusters into high rise-- into pillar coral scraping scraping scraping the drift of stars-- the star fish rest next to heating vents in sleeping bags --swaddled in beach towel-- we cannot sleep yet-- we've yet to read each other's names-- bold & blinking & capitalist imprinted in the scalp of the brain coral-- the cacophony of tinsel song & light-- this is the time draws itself into a square for us to hold each other in-- how do the humans stand a city?
02/06
the blood on the bed sheets & watching ourselves become butterflies in the mirror-- in first grade we learned how to be beautiful. who better to teach us than the butterflies-- & what is a butterfly but a packet of seeds in the bottom of a glass box-- this is our first strip show-- watch the ladies pull their bodies free of chrysalis-- of fish net-- of white stocking-- blood on wing on bed-sheets-- before we saw them in blood we had taken the time to learn how they spoke-- listened from the edge of their terrarium-- taught them ABCs & the song we sung to remember the multiples of 9-- 9, 18, 27, 36 36 goldfish crackers on desk-- 27 cupcakes for my summer birthday-- no-- yes-- it's not july-- 18 little boys & girls to wait in line for a mirror in the bathroom-- 9 mornings of remembering how to build a cat's cradle to turn to liquid inside-- puncture wrists like Caprison-- no this was before i knew why the butterflies were bleeding -- we believed in caterpillars-- their skin was our own-- un-fucked & smelling like suntan lotion-- this is before we knew our own veins were full of sugar-- the caterpillars loved like us with Marconi mandibles-- mischievous feet & eyes that blink at glass mirrors-- we saw through our own faces & onward into purple glue stick -- into a broken crayon horizon april knew how to feed us with sun in the window & green leaves gnawed bare by anxious jaws-- it didn't take long for the class to discover they were ugly-- the caterpillars were ugly we were ugly-- the sandbox & the playdough fingers were all ugly-- what was it they were trying to teach us with little bodies in jars?-- watch the insect grow to hate itself so much that it resolved to never look the same in a mirror-- bathroom mirrors were we wrote our names with foam soap-- sat on a window ledge to grind leaves with our baby teeth-- how many quarters are you worth beneath a pillow? what was it that i learned for the other side of the strip show-- this butterfly burlesque of blood maybe mrs kenney wanted to teach her girls what it felt like to watch each other undress -- watch each other bleed-- this is the art of sympathy-- but don't touch them-- they can do it on their own-- taught us to dry wet wings-- trade mouths for siphons-- despite all efforts the boys never comprehended how to hold a butterfly without crushing it-- so i remembered now that when you're body grows long & full of leaves it is time to package yourself to be re-sold-- liquefy to sell your mouth-- when you wake up it doesn't matter whether or not your legs are the same-- your mind was a chrysalis that chanted goddess goddess goddess take away my mouth-- these legs i walk like a plague--i want people to mistake me for a brush stroke-- laugh about my escape from Eden-- call me the temptress of an april gust of wind-- taste poison in skin-- & that's what the blood on the bed sheets is for-- never trust a boy to watch the butterflies undress-- he's impatient-- to this day i can trace my face in foam on the bathroom mirror-- pierce morning through my ears like Caprison-- each day i feel more like a monarch-- liquefy sleep see you on the other side of the glass--
02/05
the night sky needs a mirror & the sun cracks herself in a cast iron pan-- they paint hunger into dawn she told me the sun & the moon are lovers-- only they're both girls-- they laugh at men's feet bound to grass & stones-- and we all knew the night sky was our goddess-- only we mistook our savior in a sun-- she's not your lion mane-- she doesn't want your gold to dress a sun-ray-- she's her to warm the morning-- kiss the forehead of the moon as she rises-- she laughs in the splash of cracked egg-- yolks in fingers-- the flame to eat the pot of oil-- sun taught the water itself that it could breath and at night she whispered across the earth for her lover to un-clip nebulas from her hair-- tossed down into a ocean chasm to light the bodies of jelly fish-- paint lakes in her own hips-- this water color is blood bled into a sunrise--sunset she the sun loved the moon enough to become her-- the heat on her face that puts the water into a trance-- the ocean is her own sky she built to own a mirror-- it's how she reminds herself that she is as real and as eternal as everyone says she is-- she some days feels like the exhale of an ocean vent-- the decrescendo of a whale carcass to the deep-- rest in then mouth another echinoderm it's taxing to wear the moon as a mask-- listen to humans misjudge her for the stones-- this man in the moon has always been a woman-- together in tandem sun & moon craft each other bangles to endow around the waist of the equator-- preen each day like a skillet-- mirrored reflects in silhouetted in the sea at dawn when their mouths are full only of yearning-- this is how you learn not to touch-- she remember's the sun hands like the hot grip of a cast iron pan-- she tastes morning hungry wishes to hold the sun like the soft belly of a crepe-- the moon lives as an empty plate-- a hollow mouth spoon gaping for a drop of horizon-- she tastes sun only in that reflect-- that burst on the water-- the waves distorting her image in a juggle of beams-- the coral gnaws at her face and the moon weeps tired-- lets go of waves-- sun rages into morning oh why oh why do we wear these masks so they believe us and the moon forget she was meant to be silent-- and the sun always breaks her promises and sometimes doesn't kiss the water-- and the moon tells herself at least she has the ocean-- the bowls of her own bones where she can save her favorite drops of stars-- this is where the moon keeps her body secret from the sun-- digs deeper in her own thighs to hid more stars-- more kisses she grasped on the cusp of Capricorn-- i love you more i love you more i love you more she says and the man tied to grass & stones is afraid-- wonders why the moon chooses burns from laying face up in cast iron pan-- wonder how the sun could love a thing so hollow she needs a mirror.
02/04
sleep overs for fat girls;
did you lay in a pine tree last night
or play truth or dare with the frogs?
i learned when i was 10 that
sleep overs aren't made for fat girls--
and neither are sticks of plum eyeliner--
draw the bulls-eye around my belly button
-- they taught me to
avoid my own skin-- these hands
and their vampire desire to eat--
how dare a girl partake in something
other than air--
chant me into your
truth or dare--
but i'll always be truth--
i'm scared of what skinny girls
would do if they had a dare to
use on a fat girl--
make my clothing into puppets
i ignore the laugh of a mirror--
see yourself amphibian-- glossy eyed
and full of ponds-- twisted
lip stick staircases into a murky night
pull back like arrows--
impale me chalked blood
on the bulls-eye--
bleed me nail polish on carpet
on thumb print
this is where you become a skinny girl's
dice roll--
snake eyes of your unformed breasts--
make training bras from
toilet paper and roll the dice
to turn 16 when they
say none of us will still be virgins
how many doughnuts can she eat?
can't stop herself--she's like a dog--
a goldfish-- a fat frog ready for sex--
hold your fat body in
the lull of water in the sink--
the bathroom is a locked door--
pour yourself a bath of brownie
batter--
wait by the oven where your not a dare--
you become the corner pieces--
the misshapen sleeping bag
that looks like your stomach--
let's play
marry
fuck
kill
the fat girls
so i slept in the pine trees--
pulled needles from my
sides-- and thought of
who i would marry if
i was a dice roll or
new how to draw my eyes on
-- i would
marry the throats of the frogs
having intercourse by the ledge
of the pond in the back yard--
they warble brownies to each
other and they like
their bodies fat for the winter--
i would be a queen--
a streak of plum eye-liner--
sleep is for girls
who eat lipstick so
they awoke on the stale forehead
of another morning--
an open box of doughnuts--
broke in half
as the last supper of secrets--
we love each other only
as far as we can measure a night--
they say
i didn't ever pick
dare-- so they dare
me to be a fat girl again
and i laugh because that's what you
do when you're confronted with
a mirror--
eat the corner brownies so
you have safe place to sleep--
marry
fuck
kill
the fat girls.
02/03
The whale carcass: our mother and our corridor; we tie knots in our bodies to feel less empty hagfish sold our jaws to the sand in order to build the coral-- cut each other bouquets of sea lilies-- listened to their shriek flutter on the backs of the mollusks-- we forget each other's names in a tangle when we curl knot after knot-- pearl bodies into fish nets-- sexy and draped in mucus-- this is how we escape the grasp of each other's hands-- i call you all sister because we each have known the underbelly of the sea is rotting and waiting for us to feed-- there are too many of us to hold tightly enough to a name to remember-- tie these bodies tight enough to form a memory-- our mother was the white carcass of a whale and she named us all after her ribs-- made room for us to walk through her body like a corridor-- hold our sisters and silence the sobs of another sea lily pleading to not be mistaken for a bouquet-- our mother swallowed chandeliers and candelabras to build us a home-- drank bleach to leave her bones white enough to fabricate a sun-- we watch her turn into a ghost of bone-- flesh for her children and each sister has another name to call her-- my mother was a corridor and there was no where to walk with me but i wanted to know what they call you and i wanted to entangle my body with yours-- learn what it would be like to remember a name for once-- did you remember where we saw the sea lilies or if they were only some other sister's recollection-- i lit the candles with the sacrifice of a jaw bone when the crabs turn white as bone we know it is time to give up on the mother who tried to lead us down her hallways-- he have walked there-- sewn skin into a vague promise to be left with the turn of her spine-- the roll of the staircase into the drop off of the abyss-- we protected her long enough for the ghosts of the crabs waiting to take what was left-- watch a soul get swallowed by a mound of sand-- candles extinguish under water and so in the darkness we crawl towards a new mother-- call me sister-- sister sister tie knots in my body-- i want to feel your skin on mine and i will ask if you remembered our mother and if you remember what name you have made for yourself there-- hagfish traded jaws to tie our bodies in knots-- hold me and hang the sea lilies from the chandelier-- born another mother from her carcass on the sea floor--
02/02
i taught my body to bloom in the larkspurs from the back seat of an Oldsmobile; milk and honey through the floor what good is a seat belt? lock me into the cushion in the back seat-- lay that body down like the corpse of another martyr refusing to decompose-- i pull milk and honey from a hipbone and pretend it isn't blood-- you say i smell like flowers but it wasn't boys who taught me how to open my mouth like a larkspur-- you say you'd pull me apart one slice at a time your clementine artist-- hips bound by roses-- prayed at this window-- this bulb-- what will you call me savior for? call me benediction in the form of an open window-- write your hands in breath on the glass-- i'm peeling open the tulips before they're supposed to bloom-- pulling free the sun-burn faces of the daffodils-- push me bulb and root and nest of my own hair-- planted grass seeds in my legs so i wouldn't have to tell you why i don't shave anymore-- this is the place i grew one tight fist of pressed petal between my legs-- i was the valley and the abyss-- a kiss from the forehead of a mountain we only had the courage to shave the tress-- yes we saved the thorns-- i lay in the back seat of the Oldsmobile-- find myself a rapture of rust-spring and cushion-- a mouth full of foam trying to taste dew through the upholstery-- no it wasn't a boy who pressed down on me to teach me how to break through the floor of the car-- my petals eat metal and bone-- i call my vagina a larkspur and a car door and a jar full of raspberry jam-- call her a window and a martyr and an unbuckled seat belt waiting for a red light-- this seat belt was to keep you from taking me back inside where i can't take my whole body into the bruise of a violet grasp-- we tore through the floor of the car to make ourselves a body here painted on the yellow stripes of a road only leading towards milk and honey-- i became a sculpture from my thumbs-- call my body citrus and throw the skin out the window-- it wasn't boys who unpeeled me like a tangerine-- it was a backseat stained in cigarettes and my own blood turned sweet as milk and honey.
