quantity over quantity 

i have been told i look like a sea gull.
mirrors turn into little factories.
i don't know how to be a thumb creature anymore.
i apply to a job on mars. i apply to a job
making wax models of myself.
there was an ad on my phone today
for vacationing in heaven. when was the last time 
you made a sandwich from only hair?
i have eaten what the earth does not want.
i have built hundreds of houses 
from only feathers. i was told by a voice
coming out of the wall, "build an arch."
i reject all notions of two by two. 
even the flood is heteronormative. instead 
i tell the animals to fit as many as they can
on my egg carton raft. pill bugs & elephants 
& neighbors. i pull a snake from my mouth.
i sell five eyelashes to the highest bidder.
the auction house is not a place
but a state of mind. how can i convert
these shoulders into gold. how can i 
plant a potato & wait long enough
for it to grow into a child. we cut 'x's
into the walls. dig here. the spare room
full of nothing but shoes. there has
to be another way. or else we are already full.
no vacancy on my solar system. just 
a lot of trading cards & a lot of bicycles.
don't get me wrong though.
i also want it all. i want to be full. 

2 weeks notice

tell your god you will not eat the planet.
there are whales underneath my eyes.
i used to pull ribbons out of my mouth
for a room full of jenga blocks.
pulling free a foundation beam. 
soon the collapse will be beautiful
& all yours. i write my name on demolition sites.
i bring a box of chocolates 
to the protest. the protest has pickle jars 
full of specimens. we are all trying to 
give over evidence. "here is how the hours
have been used to mulberry me."
a tooth pick made of glass. 
the dentist in the glove box who says,
"you could do just another week."
hunger is a little town in the snow.
no lights on. just a grocery store 
in the dark. let's not pretend i was a saint.
instead, i was a body with blood in it.
i carried a pocket knife into the database 
or the hot water. do you have experience
wringing a bone of its milk? i do.
i learned exactly how hard to squeeze.
there is the gold. there is the doctor 
& the promises. none of this will ever
make you a cherry tree. you already are
a cherry tree. i am collecting pits.
i am going to find a payphone
& call the factory just to hear it breathe. 

skinny dipping

there are not enough ghosts to go around.
i see you pulling elephants from your mouth.
the lake is full of red jello but we swim anyway.
i could go on & on about every way 
you stripped me down to me necklaces.
instead i will just show you the callouses
on my feet & the scar in the shape of a rabbit.
we drive slow at night. the deer are deering.
standing in flocks of three & waiting
to ascend into heaven for the winter.
it was january & the pool water unfroze.
i was fourteen or fifteen. i said, "watch me!"
there was no one watching but an owl 
with a mouse in his mouth. haven't you 
ever taken a moment to relish your prey?
i have not. i am an audio-tarian meaning
i only eat sound. the water hit me 
like piano mondays. my heart a little pomegranate.
get your thumbs in there. get your teeth
pulling husk from hail mary. i do not 
know how i got out alive. i shivered
for days after. sometimes i still shiver
from the cold of that plunge. all the scales 
& talons i shed. limbs floated in the water
around me. bare as my bones would let me.
i had never wanted so badly to be kissed.
to have the warmth of someone else's blood.
never mistake a fire for company. 
unzip your skin in august when all the cicadas
are on television & boys fall from the trees
all day in the form of soup peaches 
& mango. don't get me wrong,
i loved to hear my bones ring. i loved to see
all my future teeth buzzing like beetles.
i loved to be, for a moment, undone. 

blood born

get out the butter, i'm ready.
give me the syringe full of spiders.
i can survive any kind
of kiss. even ones with chains.
we drove for hours until 
our lives were fingernail clippings.
the moon was a vanilla wafer
which i ate while you weren't looking.
there is something in my blood
about escape. my grandfather moving
from ecuador to brazil to philadelphia.
all the gasoline in his red. 
eating a chicken from the sun.
there is a church in my lungs
& it's always burning incense.
i do not want to be blessed or holy.
i want to have a painting of mary
on my wall. i want a halo to teeth with.
if you looked at my blood under
a microscope you would see 
all kinds of moths & whales.
they would have goat eyes &
big cartoonish frowns. it starts with 
the zipline. it starts with the kissing
on the bridge. haven't you ever driven
somewhere you don't belong?
if you haven't then we aren't kin.
then we aren't even talking to each other.
a mulberry tree grows
under every bed i've ever tried
to sleep in. rubber ducks in the blood.
rubber tree bleeding milk. 
violet bruises. a tea cup with a little scab 
sitting at the bottom. let's tell the truth.
there was never a butter dish. there was
only a knife. you were just trying
to make me think it was duller than it was. 

spa night

i want to deserve the prophecy.
god is tall & thin & standing
in the corn fields just before harvest.
all the while i am laying in a bath of broth 
& blood. let's not pretend 
i am a saint. instead, i am a carrier.
i fill my car with teeth & drive
to whatever mouth is full of song birds.
when i say i want you to love me
i mean i want to sometimes be pandora.
to open my mouth & let the destruction
of the universe fall out & have you still 
want to take me to mcdonalds
for a sundae. i put on a face mask
of crush stink bugs. i wear my robe.
you are throwing darts at a board hung
around my neck & saying,
"why do you never stand still?"
i stand still & you ask,
"why are you always standing still?"
my bath bomb heart is not deployed.
i don't want to be a desolation ever again.
let's instead try to talk about wildlife.
about sharks & gills. about dead skin.
i remember when you used to treat me
like a lobster. hold me under the water
& say, "the meal is tomorrow,
for today let us be lovers."
red as a red can be. i prefer not to believe
in an afterlife. instead i believe
in friday nights. in ear hair & a capacity
for transformation. you ask me,
"do you think my hair is falling out?"
i do not. it looks as lush as ever.
there is a whole rainforest on your head.
i rub my scalp. tell myself 
one day, if all goes well, i will 
plant a yew tree here. i will tell no one.
i will sit beneath the tree & weep. 

amateur taxidermy 

you do what you can with the body.
salt & smoke. holding on to the ears.
replacing eyes with gumballs.
taking the guts wherever you can.
into the sky. into the mouths of birds.
i used to believe in preservation.
that a body could be held. lie in state
like a saint. now, i believe in meaning-making.
sewing ceiling with marigolds. conjuring symbols
from fresh earth. wind chimes of bones. 
the hardest part is making the pelt
look like the animal once did. running.
climbing a golden sock pile. muscle
& blood. a remnant can never be
that which it is the fragment of. 
this is part of the definition & yet 
i labor. kneel in the rib cage 
of another boy, saying, "give me 
your teeth." he is just like me only 
wind turned his face into a plum tree.
forest fire that made each of us
leather shoes. i walked out among flames.
returned again to carry out carcasses. 
so often we say "rebuild" we think 
"replica." i mean memorial. i mean 
the skin is still here to be tended. 

string cheese

my brain is full of fingernails 
if you know what i mean.
i don't know what i mean
but i know it feels gill-less.
like breathing without lungs.
i pour my soul into a birthday balloon
& wait for it to deflate.
there is string cheese & then there is 
good string cheese braided 
like girl hair & twisted by monks
who only talk to waterfalls.
i am the kind of person
who can't peel slowly. who, on occasion 
has taken a bite out of the beautiful.
who has made a sacrifice 
of one of my own limbs.
watched the angels feast 
with their jaguar teeth. 
you know we could have 
as much cream as we want? we could
put a gumball machine
in our brains but instead
we're running around trying to kill bugs
with our bare hands. booby trap
for intruders catches me
& milks like teeth of their trapezes.
i'm not sure how the string cheese
comes about. i wonder if it comes
after days of praying & brushing hair.
i used to have a mane. i used to have
a field of dandelions. i used to eat
only grapes. now i am a pineapple listener.
i take sugar for a walk
down by the purple brush.
there, we sip from chipped tea cups.
we braid everything that will take a braid.
legs & leaves & levers. doors 
& darkness. kissing like pickles 
in a starlight jar. let's use all our salt. 

personal pizza

i distrust my own hunger.
do i want to be on fire
or do i want you to love me
like a cone of vanilla ice cream.
let this love be buttercup
& pill bug. simple. squished 
between fingers. last night
i put my heart in the microwave
& waited to hear the kernels popping.
to be alone is to be safe 
or so my alarm-self tells me.
i have a basement that no one knows about.
there is a frozen dinner kingdom.
on my personal pizza i put
doll hair & a candle to celebrate
all the birthdays. you hold a knife
& say to me, "stop holding a knife."
i am not holding a knife
so i don't know what to do.
i take off my hands & tell them
to go for help. they become
dumb birds & they just go
& eat the spilled seed instead &
i am left trying to plead 
with a weapon or with you.
once i believed in nectarines. once
i thought you were going to
never pull out the big guns. 
instead, i find the familiar frenzy.
where to hoard my oranges. where i can
stand & eat my personal pizza. 
"you were always selfish," you say
when you discover what i'm doing.
i hold the pizza tight. mine mine.
this little earth is mine. 
you use a can opener to take out
one of my teeth. "this is 
for lying," you say. i cry tomato juice
or blood. lick my fingers clean.
end the night ravenous as ever. 

zipline from heaven 

don't tell me it's going to be okay.
i want to wallow in a field of thumb tacs.
chew on splinters. have climate terrorism fantasies
& then eat a microwaved pancake 
while sitting in bed. the dream realm has always
been such a tease. here is your big big glory
& then there is the morning. i love
to get up in time to watch the angels 
shoot geese. they do it for sport
like all creatures of power. it is never about need
it's always about thrill. but don't i want that too?
to run like my legs used to let me. to kick
a tiger in the teeth. have daggers fall out
of a doctor bag. i wait on the phone waiting
for the township to talk to me. they finally arrive
& say, "we are not sure if your people
are humans anymore." i sigh. this was
to be expected. their mistake though,
now i'm going to hop the landfill fence 
& find all the dinosaur bones they claim
are not there. pins & needles. purses 
& purloined hair. i wear a wig. no one recognizes me.
it turns me into a woman & i'm okay with this
for the sake of disguise. one day all our grandmothers
will take the zipline down from heaven
& grab us by the hair. they will say,
"why did you eat the apple seeds?" i tend
the tree inside myself. opal apples. they glow
a brilliant gold. spare buttons. spare teeth.
i do not know how this year could 
close up but i am told wounds are always
a site of sealing. what is kept inside. what is
let lose into the river. ribbon of blood.
rocky road. a spoonful of sand eaten 
with a sip of cream. instead tell me i am 
on fire & i look beautiful. instead tell me
there is a bungie cord around my waist.
i don't care if its actually there. 
this is how i'd like you to lie to me. 

common name

tell me your mushroom name
& i'll tell you mine.
i was in a field of pig's ears
laughing with chicken of the woods. 
an old purple man in his
television face. dreams are just
spore breaths. gills opening
on a buttered moon. a bullet train 
through a mycelium to the other
face you keep in the lock box. 
i went to the heron grove.
they were giant. towered over everything.
all i saw was their legs. i begged
for my name. i groveled for days.
maybe it was years. when you are yearning
every moment feels just a little
too long. like you could open
your mouth & find nothing 
but chanterelles. a goat's lute bleating
& beating on the forehead 
of a sleeping woman shrouded
in moss. the birds finally spoke
through the creek. they said,
"ghost's halo." i wept with joy
& now you know me too.
i have given you my laughter tongue
& you can wrap it in butcher paper
& take it down to the dead tree
to search for me. my spore print
is purple. i ring whenever it rains.
press my legs as deep
into the belly of the forest
as they will go. there, we kick
as if treading water. as if hearing
again for the first time 
what a forager should call us
when, with his knife, he cuts off
a hand to feast in the feathered shade.